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VOLCANO WEEKLY LEDGER. ■oLUMIVE I.] ■ £» llolcauo iUecKin Cc&gcr, PVWUmtU CVRBT HATKBIUT. ST 4|>UI\(;KK & DAIX«RtF.rEU>. tirniMitß. » w. iKkiN«)Kknv.i.i>. Tor m ■ i OBfvw rnr i, nl( ivanc<v . . $5 00 8 CM) nJWMonfka, 1 00 Idtcrtiiilaf. oJs<)'i»ri 12 lino*. Hn» Inser'ion, SS~-c«cli ~uldtn%< ..t hi .'tion, #1 M> ptt \ lihi r.vl a<<liirti‘Vi <m tie si-otre rail'd will be for ijiinrti rIT «i 1 yesi tj ml re rtincmel* I Ivi.U. JkT>«lTlS*M»vri Will i inerted si >h j tollowing nilei:—Two P«l- IsM {* <(iio if f< "Ik ■ dr*l inn -rtion ninl ()ne Hol ler M f|iisrc ft* «■) li snbdii(U< nt in-w-rticii. JOB PUTTING. W«[>r •po r» •j do Job IViul'tjf of every dr ..~rt nin yt< <tip rior to any other ulßce in (WBitl« rn Min . *t i»s fiilf mien. iV w. Hm . ••' * .Wtr Monthly. iriMor. nan > ml wrMK, ta again upon us, with |(jwnil UK an.;: irwnns of wisdom, which, with rijjff re. nrring Kail.” come home to the hoart> offlite sorrowing ami the bereaved. Among it» ••ot4 bonoi; ' which no noon will-i-ew the ground. k#di|place these beautiful AUTUMNAL LEAVES. 'Sg> i hildren i t the dying lummer, I Oft in grief I Hear we nay, m. 'k. <>i pastortext it mournful, •** S Kor In i rewheth of decay. AJW i.jj,,. a i 'iic mid friendless mother i 3fS» Droop thy j aifeftt ; » blighted head, /«if mourning lor h r children I [.ting pound her pale anil dead. “tiler foul nr; i hove gently rocked ye afl lu ito even'ng clear and still. ♦WMii'l 110 sna’f last Imam hath kissed yt A go k! night behind the hill. IlftVh-n that Milt and hreexe hath wakened |W Veu, gain .it early mom. | #Ali 'da a in a joy seemed laughing ft, (’ . r <emo Id neom newly-born: ♦< ind hen a eping Jews are fa I ting, B;,s t mu • heard the great winds sweep Mm p i your leafy lattice, calling, fift* I iki llic deep, unto the deep. lioa vc lie lorcverscattered 1.i1i.! pale mourners in the blast, II jr come n dead convention *' "W f.JU'f. mn in last, ’’ ** f- remind me of familiar Jh Idren, of Lite's fruitful tree, vl verefair, but. fading, vanished r: mi the light of day, like ye. •i ore’s book of life lies open, >l. n, go read the minimi fair! sil the wind in her cathedral, Ul o a psalmist, chants its prayers. .m will be to thee a mother, i'.*“d » ,11 huhi thee oi; her breast n ‘it is that every other ll le on ; irlh retsv-ih rest.” A> am the Pioneer. Iwoso OF THE BLACKSMITH. . it' joi.h r. nm, II ,vit I' >'V) i, t mn r high, f v 1 ,oi ‘ *- fire. An4l».kett* bfo-rt(Twl[j|)|v A 1 weld tb r , , r „ ~ »Ui 1 foi tin lire— jS* I f irm the a , . . * .iceful spade Willi apt, tell ~ 1 it blow, Or fusbiun the tr .... ft» Millie Py the flame, g . , , , , ’ tmg cheerful glow. Whnl though rot 1 . ' I- l>e (pent ilv the forge-Are , , , ed uml warm; 1 an promt in hit i , . .. * ' *.thered strength,— In mv thick mid I , ' , awny arm; 1 yci.ru for no paml , . . fume, No Ht.ir cmtmiaoii , , V, J breast: bite me but an no* . .... , <»t name, M\ labor-uml m • nut. % Then hurrah for mv ant, .... ... .• ... 1 bright, I For the amey smith’ „ , I ~ ... • ' Hour! i Hurrah for tin* coal fire ~ I gilt, Anc the m, A . - I ~ .. . 'Hitip (he-- I lor the ilttone, pray cin. . , me t-moke, I hot the Inller, tone* i . And hurrah for the mlp'" *"f* ’ Of 11,. heavily toJMn^^' I 1 or it give h a ghulsoox l Whii-h now plcu, “ The.yoodof my fellow inen; A” t‘t' ml the while rparks fly, Vmi f mil by mv lurid fire. Wi th mg the hammer bign. t the spade. foi the blade ttr the tire. Uk .mss.— I year it from the earliest days tame your principles ni.aiasl the jicril of jit » ' Von cnti iu> movi. 1 exercise your rea- I V" . live m js'ifi.'i't dread of laughter, i you us* «yoy your lift if you live in the ft,iiay terror of death, li you think il i‘ tddtff ■ front the times, and to make a i F mt'.alfl, iti» it, ho'ever rustic, how r futinu, . howevci pedantii’ it may ap- I tip it. vH kir in^dcone, but seriously /rut iffy -a* a n.an who wore a soul of i tva in bis boaom, and did qot wait til it i breatl <d into by the ireath of fashion. Ths focntaib of content most spring th WUvi.; ami he who luw so little iidff <*f tuwuaii nature, i* to seek »*(> *V y. I-**' ug »tny thinpr hut his own di*- iliou| will wuat ins life in IniitUss effirls, •ouilip y She whkh lie propose; to vc. Curious Anecdote about Dr. Franklin and bis Mother. It was an idea of Doctor Franklin not u settled opinion, that a mother might, by a kind of instinct of natural affivtion, recog ai/C her children, even though she had lost the recollection of their features; and on a visit to his native town of Boston, he deter mined to ascertain by experiment whether his theory was correct or not. On a bleak and chilly day in the month of •January, the Doctor, late in the afternoon, knocked on tlie door of his mother’s house, and asked to peak with Mrs. Franklin. He found the old le' knitting before the |>arlor fire. He infr ed himself, and olmen’ng that he under i <1 she entertained travelers, requested lodging for the night. She eyed him with that cold look of disap probation which most people assume who im agine themselves insulted by being Mppoaed to exercise an employment which they deem n degree below their real occupation in life.— She assnn-d him he had been misinformed— she did not keep a tavern, nor did she keep a house to entertain strangers. It was true, she added, that to oblige some memliers of the Legislature, she took a small number of them into her family during the session; that she had fonr members of the Council and six of the House of Representatives, who then I warded with her, and that all her beds were full. Having said this, she resumed her knitting with that intense application which said, as forcibly as action could, if you have conclu ded your business, the sooner you leave the house the better. But on the Doctor’s wra|>- ping his cunt about him, affecting to shiver, and observing that the weather was very cold, she |Miintcd to a chair, and gave him leave to warm Himself. The entrance of boarders prevented all fur ther conversation. Colfo was soon served, and lie partook with the family. To the coffee, according to the good old custom of the times, succeeded a plate of pippins, and u [taper of tobacco, when the whole company formed a cheerful semi-circle before the lire. Perhaps no man ever |wssessed colloquial powers in a more fascinating degree than Dr, Franklin, and never was there an occasion on which he displayed them to In-tter advantage than the present one. He drew the atten tion of the company by the solidity of his modest remarks, instructing them hv the varied, new and striking lights in which he placed his subjects and delighted them with apt illustrations and amusing anecdotes. Tims" employed the hours passed merily loi-ng, until snpjiei was announced. Mrs. Franklin, busied with her household affairs, siqtfwsed the intruding stranger had left the house immediately after coffee, and it was with difficulty she saw h.m seat himself at the table with the freedom of the family. Immediately after snpfs-r, she called an el derly gentleman, amemlaTof the Council, in whom she was accustomed to confide, in an other room, complained bitterly of the rude ness cf the stranger, told the manner of his introduction to her house, observed that he seemed an outlandish sort of a man. She thought he had something very suspicious in Ms appearance and she concluded by soliciting lier friend's advice as to the way she could most ea-dy rid herself of his presence. The old gentleman assured her that the stranger was surely a young man of good education, anti, to all appearance, u gentleman—that, perhajts being in agreeable company, he paid no attention to the lateness of the hour. He advised her to call the stranger aside and re peat her inability to lodge him. She accord ingly sent her maid to him, and with as much complacency as she could command, die reca pitulated the situation of her family,observed that it grew late, and mildly intimated he would do well to seek lodgings. The Doctor replied that he would by no means incommode her family, but with her leave he would smoke one more pipe with her Imorders, ami (hen retire. lie returned to the company, filled his pipe, and with the first whiff his conversational powers returned with double force. He re counted the hai'dshi|w endured by their an cestors; he extolled their piety, virtue and devotion to religious freedom. The subject of the day's debate in the House of ilcprc sentiitiv* s was mentioned by one of the mem- Ix'rs. A bill had I wen introduced to extend the perogalives of the royal governor. The Doctor immediately joined in the discussion, sujiported the colonial rights w ith new and forcible arguments, was familiar with names of the influential men in the House when Dudley wa- Governor; recited their speeches, ~ud applauded their noble defence of the character of rights During a discourse so appropriately inter esting to the delighted company, no wonder the ••lock struck eleven uiqtereeived by them. Nor was it a wonder that the patience of Mrs. Franklin became entirely exhausted,— She now entered the room ami addressed Lite Doctor before the whole company, with a warmth glowing with u determination to be her own protectress, She told him plainly that she thought herself imposed on, but that she bud friends who would defend her, and in sist* d that ho should immediately leave the house. The Doctor made a slight apology and de liberately put on his great coat and bat, took jiolite leeve of the company, and approached the street door, attended by the mistress and lighted by the maid. While the Doctor and his companions had bet u enjoying themselves within, a most tre mendous storm of wind and snow had occur red without, and no sooner had the maid iiftud the latch than a roaring north-easter itoiccd open the door, extinguishing the light, uni almost tilled the airy with drifted snow «nl hail A 1 soon as the candle was rebgbt VOLCANO, AMADOR COUNTY, CAL., SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 27, 1855. ed, the Doctor cast a woful look toward the door and thus addne-ssed his mother: “ -My dear madam, can you turn me out in this storm? lam a stranger in this town and will perish in the street. You look like a charitable lady—l should not think that yon could turn a dog from your house this cold and stormy .light,” “ Don’t talk of charity,” replied his moth er; ‘’charity begins at home. It is your own fault, not mine, that yon have tarried so long. To be plain with you, sir, I do not like either your looks or yonr conduct, and fear you have some had design in thus intruding yourself in to my family.” The wrath of this parley had drawn the company from the parlor, and by their united interference the stranger wa-s p nnitted to lodge in the house; and os no lied could be had, lie consented to rest in the easy choir before tlnr parlor fire. Though the boarders np(wared to confide in the stranger’s honesty, it was not so with Mrs. Franklin. With suspicious caution -he collected her silver spoons, jiepper-box and porringer from her closet, and after securing her parlor door by sticking a fork over the latch, curried the valuables to her chamber, charging the negro man to sleep with his clothes on, to take the great cleaver to bed with him. and to waken and scire the vagrant at the first noise he should make in attempt ing to plunder. Mrs. Franklin rose before the sun, roused the domestic*, and was <|uite agreeably sur prised to find her terrific guest ejtiiefly sleeje ing in his chair. She awoke hint with a cheerful good morning, inquired how he had rested, and invited him to partake of her breakfast, which was always served previous to that of her Itoarders. “And pray, sir,” said Mrs. Franklin, “as you upjiear to be a stranger in Boston, to what distant country do yon belong?” “I belong, madam, to the colony of Penn sylvania ami reside in Philadelphia.” At the mention c»f Philadelphia, the doctor declared he for the first time perceived some thing like emotion in her. “ Philadelphia! ” said she, while the earnest anxiety of a mother suffused her eye; "why, if you live in Philadelphia pcrluuw you know my sou?” “Who, madam?” “ Hen Franklin, my dear Ben. Oh, now I would give tl»e world to see him! He is the dearest sou that ever blessed a mother.” “What! is Hen Franklin the printer your son? Why, he is my most intimate friend. He and I worked together and lodged in the same room.” “Oh! Heaven forgive me!” exclaimed the lady, raising her tearful eyes; “and have I suffered a friend of my son Hen to sleep upon this hard chair, while I invself rested on a soft bed I” Mri Franklin then told her unknown guest that though he hud t>een absent from her ever since he was u child, she could not fail to know him among a thousand strange faces; for there was u natural feeling in th • breast of every mother, which she kuev would enable her, wit hunt the possibility.of a mistake,, to rvognixe her son in any dis gui.'c-he might assume. Franklin doubted, and took leave to dis pute his mother’s proposition on the power of natural feeling. Hu said he had tried this “natural feeling ’’ in bis own mother, and found it deficient in the power she ascribed to it. “And did your mother,” Inquired she, “not know you? or if she did not <«ns to know you, was there not in her hwlneu to-you nu evidence that she saw something in your appearance w hich was dear to her, sti that she could not resist treating you with » , «rtk'utar tenderness and effect ion!” “No, indeed,” rejilied Franklin, “she neither knew mo, nor did she treat me with the least symptom of kindness. Bhe would have turned me out of doors Init for the in terposition of strangers. She could hardly Is* persuaded to let me sit at her table. I knew I was iu my mother’s house, and had a claim upon her hospitality; and, therefore, you may suppose, when she temporarily com manded me to leave the house, I was in no hurry to obey.” “ Surely,” interrupted his mother, “ she could not have treated you so umuolherly without some cans*:.” “ 1 gave her none,” replied the doctor.— “She would tell you herself 1 hod always been a dutiful sou—that she doated u|K>n me, and then when 1 came to her house as a stranger, my behavior was scrupulously cor rect and resjiectfel. It was a stormy night, and I had been absent so long that 1 bad be come a stranger in the place. I told my mother this, and yet, so little was she influ enced by that ‘ uatm al feelidfe ’ of which you speak, that she absolutely refused me a bed, and would hardly suffer what she called ray presumption m taking a seat at the table.— Hut this was not the worst, but no sooner was the snpper ended than my good mother told me with an air of solemn earnestness, that 1 must leave the house.” Franklin then proceeded to describe the scene at the front door—the snow drift that came so • ipportunateW into the entry—bis appeal to tier “natural feeding” of a mother --her nnimturnl and unfeeling rejee tion of his prayer—and, finally, her very reluctant com pliance with the solicitations of other persons in his behalf—that he might be permitted to tlti-p in a chair. Every word in this touching recital went home to the heart of Mrs. Franklin, who would not fail to perceive that it was a truer narrative of the events of the preceding night in her own house; and, while she eadeuvoml to escape from the self-reproach that she had acted the part of an unfeeling mother, she could not easily resist the conviction that the stranger, who become more and more inter ; eating to her as he proceeded in his discourse, , waa indeed her own son. Hut when she ol>- served the tender expressiveness of his eyes M he feelingly recapitulated the circumstance under which she attempted to .tarn him shel terless into the street, her matcnml conviction overeoroe all remaining donbt, and she threw herself into his arms, exclaiming—“ It must b©—it must be my dear Ben!” Wonderful Juggling;. We extract the following from an article in Thr Crayon, descriptive of travel* in British India. The scene of the occurrence is laid in Madras: “ But the most wonderful performance that we saw this morning was a feat of pure jugirling, of which I have never l>eon able to find any solution. One of the men came for ward upon the graveled and hard-trodden avenue, lending with him a woman, lie made her kneel down, tied her arms behind Lev, and blindfolded her eyes. Then bring ing & great nag-net made with open mashes of rope, he puts it over the women and laced up the mouth, fastening it with knotted intertwi ning cords in such a way that it seemed an impossibility for her to extricate herself from it. The man then took a closely-woven wick er basket that narrowed toward the top, lift ed the woman in the net from the ground, and placed her in it, though it was not with out the exertion of some force that he could crowd her through the narrow month. Hav ing succeeded iu getting her into the basket, in which, from its small size, she was neces sarily in a most cramped position, be put the cover upon if, and threw over it a wide strip of cotton cloth, lading it completely, in a moment, placing his hand under the cloth, lie drew out his net quite untied and disentangled, lie then took a long, straight, sharp sword, muttered some words to himself while he sprinkled the dust upon the cloth and put some upon his forehead, then pulled off and threw aside the covering, and plunged the sword suddenly Into the basket. “ Prepared, os in some degree we were for this, and knowing that it was only a decep tion, it was yet impossible to see it without a cold creeping of horror. The quiet and en ergy with which he repeated his strokes, driv ing the sword through and through the bas ket, while the other jugglers looked on appa rently as much interested as ourselves, were very dramatic aud effective. Stopping after he had riddled the basket, be again scattered dust upon its top, lifted the lid, took up the basket from the ground..'bowed it to us empty, and threw it away. At the same moment we saw the woman approaching us from a clump of trees at a distance of at least fifty or sixty feet. ‘ "Throughout the whole of this inexplica ble feat the old man and the woman were quite removed from the rest of their party. The basket stood by itself on the hard earth, and so much beneath the verandah on which we were sitting that we could easily see all around it. By what trick our watchful eyes were closed, or by wliut means the women invisibly escaped, was an enlit mystery un\ remains unsolved. The feat is not a very un common one, but no one who had sc* . it ever gave me a clue to the manner iu v inch it was performed.” No nmwi oivck.—A man of our ac quaintance, in bis early days, was the posses sor of rather more than ordinary talents, and has been always noted for hb> quick percep tions aud ready adaption of answers to ques tions given him, but is now, from various causes, at times a raving lunatic. These de monstrations were evinced more particu burly, during thunder storms and violent gusts of wind, which ho averred wen: visitations of displeasure from the Almighty. While stop ping with a friend who, by the way, was fund of Questioning “ V ncie 1 ’ortcr,” to hear his readily turned answers, he was aroused oue night by a furious gale of wind. Tile poor lunatic could not sleep; he got out of bed and was standing by tie* window when his friend observing him, asked ~ "Why don’t you stay iu bed, Uudc Por ter?” " Because I’m afraid.” "What are yen afraid of?” his friend asked again. “ Afraid of Gml to Vie sure, 1 have give Him offence, and He shows Ilia displeasure in the wind.” “Aint you afraid of Ike <kvilV ’ wickedly interrogated the wag. t “ No,” —bluntly replied Uncle Porter, " 1 hate net * ifftmUd Jum! n Goon Wivks,—That young lady will make a good wife who does not apologise when you find her in tlie kitchen, but continues at her task until the work is finished. When I hear a laily say, “ I shall attend church and wear my every-day gown, for 1 fear we shall have a rain-storm,” depend upon it, she will be suit to make a good wife. Then a daughter re marks, “ I would not hire help, for I can assist you in the kitchen,” set it down she will make somebody a good wife. When you hear a young woman say to her father, "Don’t pur chase a very expensive or showy dress for me, but one that will wear best,” you may always be certain she will make a good wife. When you sec a female rise eal ly, get breakfast, aud do up her mother's work iu season, and then git down i.nd knit, depend upon it, she will nmire .i pH.-' -rife. When you see a female atMijc, idle ren n trade, so as to earn some thing I supp- i herself, and perhaps aged par-t-i* you loaf be sure she will make one of 'tb • I < wi res. The best qualilius to look .4> wfr i Hire are industry, hvmanityi n® li ,i • i -rokncc and piety. Whcu you Its 1 tt'M 1 iei els no danger; yon will obtain a%e«sj ir< and not regret your choice to the i'll t fofieki Talking and OtusMg—Ft i* wj 1 to talk 'll in hard to do. We can ut! of ns talk, but ran are all do? There is a difference, very wide and signifi cant, between Uie two. He or she who talks the newt, a* the world goes, dors the least,— Hither is exhausting—and as contrastive in nature as in |>osition. The man who starts off slap-dash, and pats his hands and head square upon the shoulders and hips of things, is the doer. It is he who rales the world, whether its circle l>e the neighborhood of his locality, the city, State or nation He who dallies— talk*—and talks and dallies—never does else of consequence. His hands have no power t f grasp ; his bruins no pluck and energy. He s the tnlii-r. We like the doer. He Is the man or she the woman for us. Talk may lave its plaee, but it never yet of itself made a pin, lifted a brick, weaved a fabric, or germed a useful, solid thought There is as much difference be tween the two as Vt ween a gingerbread horse at the baker’s and a bold jiacer ut the race course. A friend of ours set the tabic in a roar the other day by telling a story of a clergyman in Scotland, who was invited to attend u umr riage feast, given on the arrival of the happy coujde from a distant port of the country, where the young husband had gone for his bride, and now brought her homo to his fath er’s bouse. The good old clergyman was call ed on to make a prater at the beginning of the banquet, and lifting up his hands, he suid, “ O, Lord, thy tender mercies arc over all thy works. Wc thank thee that thou hast taken care of these thy young servants, and brought them safely all the way on their journey. O, Is»rd, thou preserves! man and beast T* This was hardly complimentary to the blushing bride, but she had the good sense to Isditvc that the old man had no allusion to the "beauty” when he spoke of the “beast,” and so it paused off well enough. Goon and Had Novels —The late Miss Bronte, author of "Jane Hyre,” Is reported to have said, that no author ought Ut write a book, unless he or she can add something to literature, from individual observation Her works prove that she has practiced this whole sonic rule. It is to be regretted that all at I hoi sdo not imitate her example A really meritorious book, even if merely a fiction, is n direct contribution to the can sc of civiliza tion. But the floods of immature volumes which are annually poured upon the country, especially those devoted to fiction, vitiate the taste, ami deprave the morals of the commu nity. The mere book maker, the modern lit erary hack, instead of being a benefit to man kind, is really an injury To read is not to acquire knowledge, unless that which is read contains something new ; and in novels we cannot have this unless authors write from their own experience. Nine-tenths of the fic tions published are m n re re-product, on- wem copies of those who have pro tjed them, > it a wonder that men of sense rarely read uov cl* now-u-daya ?—Pkiitddfina t-dger. What a Love kok Nati a.u. Hist r- ca» no.— I may accm to exagerate the advan tages of such studies; hut the question idler all is one of experience; and I have had >‘X- Prienec enough and to spare that what 1 say true. I have seen the young man of fierce passions and uncontrollable daring, cqiend healthily that energy wh.ch threatened daily to plunge him into recklessness, if not ini mu, upon hunting out and collecting, through rock and bog, snow and tempest, every bird am, egg of the neighboring forest. I have seen the cultivated man, craving for travel and for success in life, amt up in tin: drudgery of Lou don work, and yet Itoej in ■ his spirit culm, and perhaps his morals all the more right eous, by .‘'pending, over his microscope, eve nings which would too probably have gradu ally been wasted at the theatre. I have seen the young Loudon beauty, amid all the excitement and temptation of luxury aud flattery, with her heart pure, and her mint: occupied on a boudoir full of shell aud fossils, flowers and sea-weeds, and keeping herself unspotted from the world, by considering the lilies of the field, how they grow. And therefore it is that I hail with thankfulness every fresh book of natural history, as a fresh boon to the young, a fresh help to those who have to educate them. Mrts. Paktisotov ami the Bear Woman.— "They are exhibiting a bear-womau uptown,” said Mrs. Sled, as she dropped like a kedge anchor into Mrs Partington’s big arm diair. Mrs. Partington looked painfully at Ike, who was pegging a top by the door, to the danger of sundry jars of preserved plums. “ A bare woman, indeed!” said she. "1 wonder what they will exhibit next? Though the bare ness isn’t the shame—'Us the knowing of it. There was Ere, now, wasn’t thought any worse of, and moved in the first society, til! she found she was naked. 1 ' "My dear Mrs. P.” said Mrs. Sled, interrupting her, "this is a woman that thought to be, in some respects, like the animal called a bear” "Ob, ah,” said the old lady, “ well, I don’t know which would be the improperest to make a public thing of, fur i orrupted taste is as bad as vis cerated murals.” A gkntleman on board a North rivf steamboat received his key from the cle.i*. who pointed to a state-room marked B. By mistake he opened the one next his *ma,f.i*i A., where he discovered a Only igT making her toilet. "Uc awayi goM«y!” •creamed the lady. " Letter B,” ycl 'dUic clerk. “I am not touching her vicj:” shouted the indignant travel, r, « | JW“The truly great and «*K>d f ip iflCelfti'l, U-ar » cou'.u nane- more prin< ( ly' than tf«;r iik wont; Cor it is the temper ot -lie htg^jsi )vilm-tn p ‘o rao>t »tp iieart*. lik* ih<' wards <■ ucn it iao t (liirfhflu [ NUMBER I. Victoria ia Prance. When the tonal which brought (He royal to Boulogne, on the recent Visit ’of Victoria to Paris, came to, a pont volant, or companion ladder, covered with crimson vel vet, was extended from the fore When thi* was fired to her deck. IWe Albert handed her Majesty forward; bat no sooner bad the Queen put her foot no it and left the Jc<-k, than, ah on her Bret touching the soil of r ranee the Emperor, who had previously dwmotrated, came Itoward, took'her Majesty by the bawl, and minted her on both cheeks —a salutation custom nr-/ »t> ong rov d p, r- MHiatree on such oeuwona. 'I , / l n which Prince Albert heeded i. ,1 r,„ ward, the Emperor’a offering, ate m. cety’s reception of the salut w. r p,. r j., ; not«| as exceedingly graceful, mtnr-.1, ftn.J nnallhctcd. The English present, who were not aware of royal etiquette munch matters, seemed at first a little taken by orpr • and then responded to what many of them suje |(oaed an nnn.sual act of amity on the part of the allied sovereigns, with three very iieany cheers, it was expected that the Empress Eugenie would have accompanied the Em jKTor to receive Queen Victoria, but it aje l>eai> *hat she was prevented by the delicacy of her heaitli. No one of the visits of tire royal |>srty produced a deeper impression than that to the tomb of the first Napoleon, The Queen arrived at nightfall, followed b\ numerous staff, stfftouoded by the vetefUns of our old wars, who had hastened to trie* her, while she advanced with noble comp - ore, to wards the last resting-place of him who was England's most constant adversary. Whin a spectacle.' How many reit,. c nruncea, with nil the contrasts, they brought up to the mind! But when, by the light of torches, the glitter of uniforms, annd the strains of the organ playing (Jod Save the Qnc-c •» her Majesty was led by the Emperor to chapel where the remains of Napoleon in the effect was overpowering and immense, the emotion profound, for every one was relief t ing that this was no ordinary homage oterrd at the tomb of a great man, hut a sdltubu act, attesting that, the rivalries of the past were forgotten, and that now the union he (ween ihc two peoples hail received its moat 'gnai consecration A « rka of royal mots, romplcd by the j resent is now iioniiwd ar Paris, ueys, a Loudon letter iti the Tribune. , Tn Demis ot a Mcthi. tike * fin* u*!--k;ud af always *e*y-|reA**«nd ’■> i . r ch.ld, rihe houUnev r docs tlsat * cm allow Prato think of hi> looks ew*s| to b*. %< .it and Wu in all his Na its. Hbe shoe I ', ’each him ‘osobev a lc<*k ,-to re>> spec* those t4dw than Woweli; * never make a < ■ mason wEfaJ*** it is performed in tS* r.gi Tf ■. * Never speck of a 'ii'afc, 4 ! ' | -r r. [>cat his remarks bef way to spoil a child. •? "' S V_ Never reprove a cl ' - let your fern of Vote /»,- ;■ 4 reeling. Strive to m<q respect, not f«*ar Hooey* , ji"' n id edaeaiing a soul hrrA-u\ ' Touch your children to ivaftt, y*- "} selves —to pui nway a ihtar wy it. But on not forget’ thei you w chi’d. The griefs -vfilitiJe ones are neglected j lory art. gees’ for them jiaticntly with them. awl never iu an rouse their anger if it < sn be s voided a child to It) useful *her ~er opportu nmy offer. y /. Tiicrk wkrb (vumu iw fn««« Daw meet with i(ccer specula <wif > the c< > our miseeltancoas newsjdp are more and more imptessc 1 witlyW^[|^P of the axiom, that “tbi* is not’ der the sun,” the mor we vend/ gone before. A foreign savant, i Frenchman touches Upon n fioi/.t that neither An Beyle seem to have Irene id Of m then losophy ’—the ehronohgii *1 deOuA'noe mankind since the epe-ition. In tho yracle & height. Tt cI , eli« us that Adam 1 1 . ■ 12d feel ki. is*. Eve's, 11« ket 9} i-- Noah's, Uj, Vbnshatu’ SI tect t' wkm a fuJliug otl . # .S , rr I : that rf Mon. . feet; Ah X.. ivt'e, 10 ft-;:, mid Joliua ( ewn 5 feet. . !ly t! .o xevwiof decad ■«, suggests this autboij if I’’ 'cnee had uot 'a-ea gra eioiwly [der •< -t it, w» in our day ;i’i»l general! 'n. * liii'A »<<4 t C Ivcen no burger i iau twette bugt t&r A still pool aoon becom un oigunnt.— A machine without motion becmufi rusty.— Am! niiii - /wit, gforiow, majestic in his cre ation - * ihout action, still, lifeless, deod. I*;- couies an icy weight—a common nuisance ~ whom rtf - body feels dwjtosed tokk-kouto' *ty Wa live in stirring times. It lie cut,c- every man to do somethin# -to et-rt •li it df for the common weal, to ai-- t/v ■ and I ushahead. Whut I>,ut arc v>n Unm a man of snow, which the children WS hi and itell till it is kno ked over an '’ fo<t while you fold Jtmr arms, tit- your f.>a and ft rt i.l * l 'f "****?. K'owof With * v *c„..t -urc above and around you. Arouse, )r the norms will *°°u *•» f on your earcaas .. mj run rnr Poor.- Tin- Veer * " •> -tfiriw, of the 10th alt, has the f ill*.a r iieai; Flour has ueeline I $1 yet barrel witiuo the *‘iwt weA, and will decline stSI? furtlicr • ileo* i were sold at Uoll\ Ll» A w«rd*y at thy rale 9 to 10 cents tie pound, dr,—edlf Qavxplleaks can now be ho’t for U cents rka*A jmieid. Potatoes are coming in good uLma dai it and cheap. Fruit wu- never okcui^F - or hctiir Po .r f Iks Uer.u t