HHIIHIIH*!!'
0'
1110!
010'
•* The powers granted under the Constitution^ being derived from, the People of the United St&Us^ may, be resumed by them v^henever perverted to their injury or oppression.'^—Madison.
VOLUME 4.
CHARL.OTTE, NORTII-CAROLIIVA, MAY 16, 1845.
I¥U3IBER 30».
Meckleiiburg Jeffersouiaii,
EDITED AND PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY
J0S1PH W^AMPTON.
TERmS.
The 'Jtjffersoyiian'' will be furnished to subscribers
at TWO DOLLAHiS a year, ij paid in advance,
or 'iTilhin one month from the commencement of the
year, or THHEK DOLLARS, if not thus paid.
Subscriptions may be sent bymuiL at ike Edit■jr's
risk, provided the postasre is paid.
Advertisements will be inserted at One Dollar per
square {15 lines) for the first time, and Twenty-five
cents for each cojitinuance. A considerable reduc
tion will be made to those who advertise by the year.
Cantlidatcs for Office.
'.Vo a: o authoii/t'd to announce CHARLES T. ALEX-
/.\[ r,i; Jr.. a candidate at the next Au^usi election, lor re-
, 1 ty ihc oiUco oi Cicrk of the Mecklenburg County
O'
-ic
\Vc arc autliorlzt'd to announce I5RALEV OATES as
:;datc at the nu.xt Auaust election for the ofiicc of Clerk
klt'nburg County Court.
Jr.ii:>ary 29, 13 i5.
Sj-to
\V: are authorizi'u to aniiounoc ALKXAXDI-]R ORA-
Esq.. a camiidate at tlu-iie.\t August election for the
Vlii jf '■ ;\lccK'.'-nb..‘-'.'uuty Court.
y ir. ?5-tc
W. F. M'KXHJIIT.
i.sq ,can I'.aatc ut the noxf August election for the oUice of
C nnitv '•■■urt T'’' r!; of 3iecklenbur2 County.
I't •.'••mv 7. 05-te
M
V'•'a” ai;* r!'/ d t a"iiour.ce W. KERR REID, a
a> tht n‘Xt Ausust eleciiora for the LMlice of Clerk
■klenl i*r>: C.’i>unty Court.
; ■:'ir . M 15- OT-le
.•■a •. nnij.'uru'o WM. II. si:\irs:()X
? ir tile Uliii-e of clcrk i»f lae .'5uj)cr;or court
at ?hr‘ iK.\i Auirui;: tlectiuu.
Ir
r V’\v a\-;K'rI/ i ■ .» an'.jounce '•III.A^^ !M. LE3I,
M' =M)S, a cna.l.ilate f.jr the Othce of eltrk of the Superior
;r: ;>i Uni^ni countv, at the next AucuJt clcciion.
^ ■ _ ra.ro
■' . ; ar. n itu jr;/, d to announce JO.SEII T. PRAFFIX,
a i uiid.dat,: at the next x\uL''ust election, for the oflice
.'I'l n^>n y :! t ri> ; C
From the United States Journal.
GENERAL ANDREW JACKSON
To the Roman Sarcophagus,
BY JESSE E. DOW.
The Roman bugle o’er thee peal’d
Wheti nmrch’d the cohurts of the brave.
"With blunted spear anti batter’d shield,
A fittaig escort, to the grave;
Through rocky pass and rosy vale
They elovvly liled, a weeping train,
While Ramah swell’d the mourners’ wailj
And Sharon caught the dying strain.
Memento of departed time !
Of empires troddon in the dust—
or I ulors steeped in blood and crime,
And nations eaten up with lust!
What! sleep in tliee, thou hollow thing?
A sepulchre that once wert fed—
Tomb of the mother at a King—
Where rests tho ashes of thy dead ?
Let Princes in their marble sleep,
When crowns and sceptres turn to dust,
And let the vines of ages crecp
Around them, faithful to theii trust j
I’.ut as for me, go make my tomb
Where sleeps ihe partner of my love.
^Vhcre Spring’s first roses love to bloom.
And weeping willows bend above.
I cannot take my final rest
Where Rome's pi oud mistress slept In pride :
My bosom spurns the robber’s crest,
And scorns tlie marble's sculptured siJe.
When 1 am called to meet my God,
I would from pomp and pride be free:
Then make my grave beneath the sod,
And hallow it with memorv.
you impose upon beci’ likt- o jn>or fool, 1 say
uolhing. 1 should be ash-..«ied of myself. Caudle.
“ And a pretty exarop. - you set as a father!
You’ll make your boys cs bad as yourself. Talk
ing as you did ail breakfast lime about your buttons!
And of a Sunday morning too! And you call your- i
self a Christian ! I shouli'like to knov/ what your
boys will say of you wher they grow up? And all
about a paltry button off c/ie of your wristbands : a
decent man wouldn’t have nentioned it—why won’t
I hold my tongue? Beciuse I won’t hold my
tongue. I’m to have my peace of mind destroyed.
I’m to be worried into m> grave for a miserable
shirt button, and I’m to .loid my tongue ! Oh !
but that’s just like you, m* 11
“ But 1 know what I’ll *he luture. Every
button you have may drof' X and 1 won’t '0 much
as pul a thread to ’em. /' 1 should like to know
what you’ll do then ? Oi you must get somebody
else to sew ’em, must you J That’s a pretty threat
for a husband to hold out \o a wife ! And to such
a wife as I’ve been, too; sach a negro-slave to your
Mike, It’s impossible m ray case to strike the blow
myself.”
•' Shure, and so it is,” said Mike reflectively, and
if I thought you would not be kilt entirely—which
would be half a murder anyhow—”
“ Never fear, Mike. Only cut exactly through
the first row of scales, between the fish and thp
flesh, and I shall feel no pain, nor will you even
spill a drop of blood.”
Mike shook his head doubtfully—very doutliuily
tndefd, and then muttered to hunsel/,
“ Devil a bit of a Repale without that!”
“Not a drop, I tell you,” said the Mtrman,
‘•there's my hand on tt.” and he held out a sort of!
(lesh-colored paw, with webs between the fingers. |
‘‘ ft’s a bar'ipain. faid Mike l.i>t aiior «!•,” aff i he j
gfii;ncu kiiownigiy at the Me:man, ‘ iUj'pjo.. 3 }cuf ;
tail cut Oil" from you. ii’f small wa'kn.g ye'il gee.
unless I could lend yon the loan of ri pair o’legs.” ;
■‘•True for you, Mike” rtplied the Merman, j
*• but it’s not the walkinjr *hat I care for. It's the i
a! Jtvotion to the tducation and prosperi-
co;-’t’. ’vhose enlerjjiise and virtue, enti*
as 1 may say
buttons, as I
eh? No, Caudle, no: no', while I’m alive I
I’m dead—and with what 1 have to bear there s no j this scaly Saxon appendage ”
knowing how soon that may be when Im dead, j -‘Saxon is ii!” bellowed IMike, iiurrah then for
I say-—oh ! what a biute you must be to snore so ; ) liepealc, and whipping out a huge knife from
\ ou’re not snoring? Ela Kthal s what you al | his pocket, he performed the operalion exactly as
1 ou i ^|jg Jvierman had directed—aj; I ^t^a;l^rc to say of on
ways say; but that’c nothing to do with it.
must get somebody else to ew ’em, must you? 11a!
1 should’nt wonder. Oh do! 1 should be surprised
at nothing, now! Nothinir a* ^'1! s what poo
dle have always lolj me it would come to—and
now the buttons have opened my eyes! But the
whole world shall know oi your cruelty, Mr. Cau
dle. After the wife I’ve Iten to you. Somebody
else, indeed, to sew your buttons! I’m no longer
to be mistress in my house; 11a, Caudle! I would
n’t have
world ! I
I’m not mad I IVs you, Mt. Caudle, who are mad, |
or bad—and-that’s worse! 1 can’t even so much i
as speak of a shirt button, bi'.l that I’m threatened 10
be made nobody of in mv oiv'n house! Cautlle,
you’ve a h^art like a hearli.'Stone, you havel To
threaten me, and only becau e a button—a button—”
“ I was conscious of nc more than this,” says
Caudle, in his MS., ‘‘for : ere nature relieved me
with a sweet, deep sleep.”
SEDGWICK’S ECONOMY.
These are two little unpretending volumes, pub*
lished by the Harpers m the city of New York,
which contain a mine of intellfctual wealth; thev
are entitled '•'‘Public and Private Ecenomy^^ anil
were written by the late'Hon. Theqikire Sedc*
WICK, of Massachusetts. We desire that every
lover of republican purity and simplicity, every
fritiii to the perpetuity and glory of our matchless
iiis'.ituiiofj?. Fi.o’jli read these works with profound
atien'.ion. 'i iic f;rst vjlume is dedicated to the late
James Esq , of Geneseo. New York,
whose iibe-nl
tie h:m to the L.-iiett tokens of everlasting rciiic:n'
bfii'fiC.o.
V\'> iiiT;:*: u w ey.'T2'i$. honing thereby to in-
du;- j.:f rJcrs to puiohaso a copy of the work.
We ere by far too lofty iti the United Stales in
a!i our ideas of expense, that is. compared with our
fortunes: there is no true economy in anything,
Mr. IXnvey says, very truly, that the English are
never ashamed to count the cost, nor to speak of it.
A great soul does not require a large tenement,
anti a j;iii is better than a twenty thousand Waver-
ley riacc house with a rniilstonc of debt about cne‘s
neck.
. _ . . Everybody has heard of the horrible dearness oi
Irish operalicn, without shedding a single drop of j England ! The word “dear,^’ conveys a very bad
, - M-t-. to the rninds of most people, and to the poor it
Ihere,' said Mike, havmg kicked iht-so d:?se-1 15 , , a word 0/ dreadful import. There was a
vered tail into the sea, and then setling up the £Ialf« ’ tni.e wl.cn we could LuOi'i wf the cheapness of our
Sir like a ninepin on the broad end,‘- there you are owr, cr-Mi'ry. I b-c-Iieve r. is pretty well understood,
free and mdepindint, and /ato sit where you plase.” : r.t :hr.t the txcessive i^isue of bank paper for
Millia Leachus, IVnke, replied the r^I«-rman. | years past has had much to do with pricts,
- silting, ]Nlike,” and he winked a«:ain with his round
oumebody else to sevv om, [ £» the sitting, and which you see
\v hen ! ,5 mighty unconvenient, so icng as 1 am linked to
j “and as to the sitting where I please,'' here he nod
I ded three times very significanlly, “ the only scat
upon my conscience whal you have, for the I j^ai will please me will be in College Green.”
[ wouldn t treat anybody as \ou treat no, ^ n Och ! that will be a proud clay for Ireland !”
said IMike, allempiing to shout, and intenJtng to cut
a caper and to throw up his hat. But his limbs
were powerless, and his mouth only gaped in pro
digious yawn. As his mouth closed agr.u' liis eyes
opened, but he couid sec nothing that he c.ouid make
head or tail of—the Merman was gone.
“Bedad!” exclaimed Mike, sl.utiin" his eyes
again, and rubbing the lid?
\s, “ what a dhrame i've had
Union 1”
W.lil
;’?p ati'
fron^ time
>1
cii’.ir. As io cheap and dear, I shall
to time give such information as to the
reiativ;' pnc?? in llngl ind and the L^nited Slates as
come utider :ny notice. Few subj»"cts are more
important than those cmbiaccd in the words cheap
and dear. The causes oi cheapness and dearness
•ire woll worthy Ihe greatrst attention. Dear bread,
deal nif-a's, dear fruits, all-tilings dear, are general
ly laund in those Countries v.’hero monopoly has
gain;
sown
lustily \';ih his knucU- • people
id of tile Repals of the | .
reJ the
the CUT:
birssings into the laps of a few. and
LrcaJcast among ihe residue of ihe
UNION.
arffaiiis
%
Bargains!
C i’.tc
ut
■J
OD.
'light night, and Mikt
H G. ALLTSON
'.Oir hlA EiViMi A.%D OPEMMi
\T DA \ IDsoiv s conyER
A SPLENDID ST08X OF STAPLE
AND FANOY
•cted I'V I jnsell’ in the norlhern cities, and con
aiiJ green
CASSLNETS,
and Bashnar-
a:;d fancv
I .ri, ot' bbie. blacl:
^•LOTHS;
CASSLMEllES;
;ti ‘ind diamond ; Dumbazinet
t'-'
Gambrcorib’, Urab-de’ete, Chambrays.
ivenin.'ky Jeans, v'tc. do.
MRS. CAUDLE’S CURTAIN LECTURES.
Lecture Ji—on Mr. Caudle s Shirt Buttons.
Theie, Mr. Caudle, I hope you’re in a little bel
ter temper ihan you weie this morning? There—
you needn’t begin to whistle: people don’t come to
bed to whistle. Bui it’s like you. 1 can’t speak
that you don't try to insult me. Once, I u.«ed to
say, you were the best crea'ure living: now, you
gel quite a fiend. l>j lei you rest? No, I won't
let you rest 1 it’s the only lime 1 have to talk to you,
.and you shall hear me. I’m put upon all day long ;
ii’s very hard if 1 can’t speak a word at night; and
I u isn’t often I open my mouth, goodness knows!
j ‘-Because once in your lifetime your shirt want-
I ed a button, you must almost swear the roof off the
I house! You didn’t swear? Ha. Mr Caudle,
j you don’t know whal you do when you’re ma pas-
II'USII, FREWII, ITALIAN, AMERI-\ ^^on. You were not in a passion, wern’i you?
Well, then, 1 don’t knovy what a passion is —and I
I slunk I ought by this tune. I’ve lived long enough
' with you, Mr. Caudle, to know that.
li’s a pity you havn’l something worse to complain
j of than a bulton ofTyour shirt. If you’d some wives
I you wou’d, I know. I'm sure i’m never without a
! needle-and thread in my hand. What with you
and the children. I’m made a perfect slave of And
whai’s my thanks? Why, if once in your life a
button’s otT yonr shirl—what do you cry oh at ? I
say once, Mr, Caudle ; or twice, or three limes, at
most I’m sure, Caudle, no man’s buttons in the
world are belter looked after than your’s. I only
wish i’d kept ihe shirts you had when you were
first married! I should like to know where your
buttons were then ?
Yes, it is worth talking of! But that’s how
You fly into a
CAN
. ns, Mu; !in, Balzorines. P)piins, Plaid Saisansj
:i,d Barage, Florence Maltassee, Gingham
iuiJ lace liiiwns. a new article, striped and
v atored Silk ; swiss, book. i)urred and
PLAIN .MUSLl-N ;
iiiu'; Catnhrics ; cluunelcon SlLlvS oi cve-
v.inety o! .style ; black Grns de Svviss; black
• rros d’ Khine ; cardinal Lace ; dress Hand-
kcn iiicls, Gloves, Fillets, Ribbons, A:c.
AND
A .splendid assortment of
cloththcv,
U'liioli, for the cash, v.’ill be sold extremely low.
China, Glass, and Ciuecnsware ;
THE REPE;U>
BY T. 1:
It was a fine, clear, m^*
Mahoney was strolling on .le beach of the ’'Jay of
Bealcreagh—who knows , y ? perhaps to gather
dhoolamaun, or lo look fo ’ c'.ab, but thinking in
tensely of noihing at all. bt ause ot the tune he was
whistling,—when looking ; av.ard, he saw at about
a stone's cast from ihe shoi ?, u dark object which
appeared like a human ^ 'd. Or was it a seal?
Or a keg of whiskey ‘ Alas! no such good luck !
The dark object moved like a living thing, and ap
proaching nearer and nearer, into shallower water,
revealed successively the neck and shoulders of a
man.
iNlike •.vondered extremely. It was a late hour
for a genllcman to be bathing, and there was no
boat or vessel within Ij^-andering distance, from
which ihe unknown might have swam. Mean
while the stranger approached, the gliding motion
of the figure suddenly changing into a floundering,
as if having got within his depth, he was wading
through Ihe deep mud.
Hilherlo,the object, amid the broad path of silver
THE ARAB BOY AND THE LIONS.
The Baron de Bode, in his recently published
Travels in Lurisian and Arbistan, states lhal among
the reeds and marshes which environ the ruins of
Shush, lions are still found in great numbers, an i
the Arabs were full of ihe stories of ihcir ravages.
An old man of the party, vvith vehement gestures
and considerable volubility, detailed a persona! ad
venture- “‘When a mere iad, of eight ox ijiuc
years old, I was sent,’ he said, ‘one day by my pa
rents to scare away birds from a plantation belonging
to us which lay close to tbo river. As I wassiumg
s a great pity that the working-people in the
United Stales will ncl at once shake ofTlheir chams,
combine, tnrn their backs upon men and womeii
made by tailors and m-lhners, set up a taste of their
own, and drecs aj.prop consistently with
their means and employment. For {his it is not
ne:ejsary that they should wear a uniform, cr dis
card beauty and tactc, or rfjpct any thing but taw
dry fiutry and things out of proportion.
Na man kaows what he can do lii’l he has tried.
a« J
laborers.
There
ih
is no
doub
.e
ncl the least, but that
we are on the highroad to a letter lot. In the
L’nited Slates, certainl^', there is nothing wanted
m a frail hut of rushes, I suddenly espied a lione.ss btn education, the will, the determination, the moral
making her way towards my place of concratnu nt.
My liver melted into water at ihe sight, (jihe^b
shudj and I became like one transfixed. The ani
mal stopped short, then couched, and rolling on the
sand appeared quite unconscious of an intruder.—
Although 1 trembled like a leaf, this afforded me !
some respite; but, pre'cnlly I became aware of the 1
approach of another lion through the rushes,—by [
the tremendous roaring which preceded him. They
met and apparently cn very friendly terms, and for
light, had been a dark one; but diverging a little 1 some time they gamboled like dogs together. But
oul of the glittering water, it now becatue a bright j I felt my situation was not the beller for it, as iheir
one, and Mike could make out the leatures, al least j stay might be prolonged. I was more dead than
Jt
jVARg AND
BOOTS AS.O SHOIS:
AIjDLES harness, BKIDI.KS,bridle
1 I!UGS A.\D i'VK-
^ii'UFFS. &c. occ.
. iR!
JESjg And tria.ny ether ariicies loo
•luiaerous and tedious lo mention, all of which I will
•‘■d! as low, for the cash, as he who sells lowest, be
;c who he may, and as much lower as 1 can afford,
all and sec ray etock.
ROBERT G. ALLISON,
iiarloite, April 25, 1845. G-2m
f ^ I la
Jr.or
RESPECTFULLY announ
ces to ihe citizens of Charlotte
and its vicinity, that he has
opened a shop in the room
lately occupied by A. Beth-
une. He intends to conduct the
TAILORING BUSINESS
in afi its various branches, and
will execute orders promptly
and in the very best style of
workmanship. He will receive
regularly the FASHIONS as they aie issued in the
northern cities, and will warrant his work to fit.—
Cutting garments ot all kinds will be attended to
promptly, and fits warranted, when the making up is
‘-orrectly done. He respectfully solicits a portion of
^hc public patronage. His terms shall be moderate,
to suit the times, and country produce taken in ex
change for work, at the market price.
Orders for work from a distance will be
prouiptly and correctly executed, and forwarded to
•rder.
Charlotte, N. C.. Jan. 10. IS I.'.
you ahvaj's try to put me down,
rage, and then if I only try to speak you won’t
hear me. Thai’s how you men always will have
all the talk lo yourselves; a poor woman isn’t al
lowed to gel a word in.
“ \ nice nolion you have of a wife, lo suppose
she's nothing lo think ofbulher husband’s buttons.
A pretty notion, indeed, you have of marriage.—
Ha ! if poor women only knew whal they had lo
go through ! What with buttons, and one thing
and another! They'd never tie themselves up lo
the best man in the world. I'm sure. What would
ihey do, Mr. Caudle ! Why, do much belter wilhoul
you, I’m certain.
“ And it’s my belief, after all, that the builon
wasn’t off ihe shirlt il’s my belief lhal you pulled
' it oil; that you might have something to lalk about.
Oh, you’re aggravating enough, when you like, for
anything ! All I know is il’s very odd that the but
ton should be ofTihe shirl; for I’m sure no woman’s
a greater slave to her husband’s buttons than 1 am.
I only say its very odd.
“ However, there’s one comfort; it can’t last long.
I’m worn to death with your temper, and sha n t
trouble you a great while. Ha, you may laugh !
And I dare say j’ou would laugh! I’vo no doubt
of it! Thai’s your love—that’s your feeling! 1
know that I’m sinking every day, though 1 say no
thing about it. And when i’m gone, we shall see
how your second wife will look after your buttons!
You’ll find oul the difference, then. Yes, Caudle,
you’ll think of me, then; for then, I hope you’ll
never have a blessed builon to your back.
“ No, I’m not a vindictive woman, Mr. Caudle ;
nobody ever called me that, but you. What do
you say ? Nobody ever knew so much of me ?
That’s noihing at all to do with it. Ha! 1 wouldn’i
have your aggravating temper, Caudle, for mines of
gold. Ii’a a good thing I’m not as worrying as you
^ are—or a nice house ihere’d be between us. 1 only
! wish you’d had a wife that would have talkel lo
as plainly as those of the man in ihe moon. At
last ihe creature stopped a few fathoms ofi’, and in a
sort of “forrin voice,” such us the irishman had
never heard before, called to Mike Mahony’.
Mike crossed himself, aud answered to his name.
‘•What do y*'^: take me for?” asked the stranger.
“ Devil knows,” thought Mike, taking a terrible
scratch at his red head, but he said nothing.
“ Look here ihen,” said the stranger; and plung
ing head downwards, as for a dive, he raised and
flourished in the air a fish’s tail, like a salmon’s,
but a grerl deal bigger. After this exhibition had
lasted for a minute, the tail went down, and the
head came up again.
“ Now you know of course, what I am ?”
“ Why, thin,” said Mike, with a broad grin, “ax
ing your pardon, I take il you’re a kind of Half
Sir.”
“True for you,’’ said ihe Merman, for such he
was, in a very melancholy tone. “ 1 am only hall
a genileman, and ii’s whal troubles me, day and
night. But ril come more convenient lo you.”
And by dint ot great exertion, partly crawling
and partly shooting himselt forward with his tail,
shrimp fashion, he contrived lo reach ihe beach,
when he rolled himself close to Mike’s feel, which
instinctively made a step apiece in retreat.
“Never fear, Mike,’* said the Merman, “its not
in my heart lo hurl one of the finest ptasaniry in
the world.”
“ Why, thin, you’d not object maybe,” inquired
Mike, not quilo’renssured, “to cry O’Connell for
ever ?”
“ I3y no means,” replied the Merman ; “ or Sue.
cess to the Rent.”
“ Faix, where did he learn that?” muttered Mike
to himself
alive, expecting at every instant they would discover
my hiding place ; and one stroke of ihe pavv was more
than fufficieiii lo brin^r doivn the hut. I was afraid
torce of lemperanee, industry,and righteousness; the
combining together, as all people do who mean to
exert their power to any advantage. To expect
any greal anu lioration from caucuses, elections,
laws, or political movrments, without a correspond*
inj chtiiige in these respects, is childish.
L‘ the people of liie L'nitcd Stales would keep tha
forms of beauty and utility constantly before their
eyes, their bills al the milliner's and lailor‘s would
be far more moderate; nor would they empty their
pockcts, as they have been accustomed lo do, in
those of the grocer and tavern keeper. When we
come lo add up the amount of money misspent in
any important particular, it seems incredible that so
much can be wasted in such a way.
10 breaihe lest the sound should reach iheir cars, yel j II is the universal hope of property', of independ-
I could not prevent my teeth chattering quite audi-1 tnce' of the dignity that belongs lo a man, that is
bly. But, whether it was that ihey were loo much j producing the “ wondeiful afHuence of the United
occupied with their own concerns, or lhal they are | Staies.“ Let our laborers, then, raise a new ban*
deticienl in sccnt, i do not know; sufllco il lo say 1 ner. and inscribe upon it, in letters of gold as bright
lhal after a short time, which appeared an age, they | as the sun, “ A just division of property; the earth
Separated, each taking a diflerenl direction,and were I and all its glorits to the viituou?; no others shall
soon losl in the highgrass.’ gain them, no others deserve them.’'
“ ‘ It is many yeais since that event took place,’ 1 .
^ 11 * • 1 • * 11 I bpon the plan 01 a nobie and irenerous existence;
added the old man, m conclusion ‘ a.ll 1 can ne.c „,„nopo!ies; of g.ving fair pla^-
.h.nk of u >vuh0ut a shudder.' And .1 I | all: “ of living and letiing liveof geSmg rid oi'
' over eating and drinking; of ten thousand cosily
him right, ihe mental anxiety he underwent al ihe
lime had the effect of changing the color of his hair
into gray ever since. To me this narrative had a
peculiar interest, as I was standing on ihe very spot
which the traditions of the east point out as the
scene where twenty five centuries ago, E>aniel had
his miraculous escape ; and I could not bui conlrasi
ihe calm confidence of the prophet, with ihe agiia-
lattd state of the Arab youth, who had not yel learn
ed to place cornpleie and implicit reliaUwO on his
heavenly Father.’’ ’
fineries and spnsualities that now either swallow up
property or prevent its production, one result is cer
tain, and that is, an immense i7icrease of wealth.
02:::r. I you • then you’d have knowD tho difference. But
Joe was one evening seated in the bar room of a
coQniry tavern in Canada, where were assembled
several old countrymen discussing various matters
connected with the “ pomp and circumstance ol
war.” In the course of some remarks, one of them
stated lhal the British government possessed the lar
gesi cannon in the world, and g^ve the dimensions
of one which he had seen Joe’s yankee prid.^f
would not allow him lo let such an assertion pass
wilhoul contradiction.
Poh! gentlemen,’’ said he, “ I won’t deny but
“ Waler is a good conductor of sound,” said the j ^ fajf sized cannon; but you are a leellemis
Merman, with a wink of one of his round, skyblue j in supposing it io be the largest in ihe world, i
eyes. “ It can carry a voice a long way—if you | jjqi iq be named in the same year with one of j
think of Father Mathew’s.” I our yankee guns w’hich I saw in Charlestown last
year. Jupiter ! that uas a cannon. Why, sirs, it is
Begad, that’s true,” exclaimed Mike. “ And
in course you’ll have heard of the Repeale?”
“ Ah, that’s it,” said the Merman, with a long
drawn sigh, and a forlorn shake of the head. “That’s
just it. It’s in your power, Mike, to do me the big
gest favor in the world.”
“ With all the pleasure in life,” replied Mike,
“ provided there’s neither sin nor shame in il.”
“ Not the least taste of either,” returned the Mer
man. “ It is only that you will help me to repeal
this cursed union, that has joined the best part of an
Irish gentleman to the worst end of a fish.”
“ Murther alive !” shouted Mike, jumping a step
backward. “ what cut off youjr honor’s tail 1”
“ That very same,” said the Merman. “ Here
ditary bondsmen*, know ye not who would be free,
themselves must strike thQ blow,” But you see,, alsOj tis Richmond
Happiness.—Happiness! that glorious crown
which, studded with ihe diamonds of the heart, can
receive no additional lustre from such paltry things
a? po ver. or wealth, or station.—By G. P. R.
James.
Dress.—Nor is dicss, in e:cnrral, altogether un-
worthy of altcntit'U, S:^iiicljc!y iia.« called i* ihe
habitual expression of a inan'd mind: and though
I cannot agree lo that definiiioa in the full sense, yet
ccrtainly, where there is no impediment to his follow
ing his own wishes, a man’s dress affords strong in
dications of la.«!te and habiis of thought.— By G. P
R James.
The heart and ihe world.—Oh, how hard it if?,
when the mind like a young bird has soared forth at
liberty *,nlo the face of heaven, and tried its wing at
large among all the joyous things of nature, lo be
called back to the close cage of ihe dull world’s do*
ings, the meannesses, which form the bars that prisoa
in the heart.—By G. P. R James.
" I . .1, o Sundown.—Il s well known to our
so large, that the soldiers were ooliged to employ a \ . .1 . • .u
i r ,7 • w 7 77., readers lhal it is the practice to give a morning and
yoke of oxen lo draw in the baLL.-^ .u 1 . Wcct
. \\7 .u 03? ! • A f I 1 evening gun as the mi lary station al West 1 oint,
“ Were they ?” exclaimed one of his heaiers, With i. ^ r . • . , ^
• I t . • ? .11 ihe reports of which unless a strong norltierly wind
a smile of triumph; “pray can you tell me how ! ^ ^ o .. j ,
they got the oxen out again?”
“ Why, you fool,” returned Joe, “ they unyoked
'em and drove ^em through the vent ”
It is said that John Jacob Astor, the wealthiest
man in the Union, once carried furs on his back up
and down the Hudson.— Phil Inquirer.
He carries furs on his back still—in the winter
lime.—N. O. Pic.
He even carrics a
prevails arc plainly heard in this village. A few
days since a genileman on the point took into his
service a verdant son of the Emerald Isle. *■ On tho
first day of his service he was startled by ihe report
of the evening gun. as the sound reverberated thro’
thf|highlands, awakening the mountain’s slumbering
echoes, and anxiously inquiered of his employer
the cause of this explosion, and was told lhal it was
the “sun-down gun.”
“ Och, bless me,’ exclaimed Pat, ‘and docs the
j “ Don, oiess me,' exciaimea rai, ’ana aoes me
skin on his back in summer; sun make such a divil of a thunder aslhaton going
nd Star, in this
\