- v.,.; . m Pnblislicd every Friday Morning, by PRICE & rUIiTON, Proprietors. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION I $2 50 a-year, in advance, or $3 00 if not paid wRbln three months after subscribing. No paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid. No subscription received for less than twelve months. Wc will pay the postage on letters containing Three Dollars and upwards, and mT be remitted through the mail at our risk. The Postmaster's cer tificate of such remittance shall be a sufficient receipt therefor. rr-All Letters n business rrtnnected with 'his of n.e, m'ist be addressed post paid to Pkice & Fulton, or they will not be attended to. 0 UR CIR C ULA TION. rr-VE mean to keep the following paragraph stan ding for the benefit of all whom it may concern: ADVERTISING. We would commend the following f.ct.tothe attention of the advertising community. The "Wilmington Journal" circulates upwards of 1 3 hundred copies weekly. Its circulation in the town of Wilmington is as large as that of any other paper pub lished in the ph.ee. We would further state that its circulation in the counties which trade to this place is thuee times as large as that of any other paper publish ed in North Carolina, and that its list is daily increasing. We aay, therefore, without the fear of contradiction, t ,,al it is the best vehicle for advertising which the peo ,.e of Wilmington can select. One other observation We think, that although a huge majority of the readers of the "Journal" are Democrats, st.il they occasionally do a little trading, as well as the readers of the whig pa p.,s. We have written the above inertly for the lnfor mati.n of those who are most deeply interested-business men of all prolessions and all political crecds- WIIO WANT CUSTOMERS- MAIL ARRANGEMENTS. Post Office, Wilmington. NsrtheknMail., by Rail Road, due daily at 2 P. M., and close at lOevery night. Southern Mail, by Steamer from Charleston, is due i aily at 3 A. M., and closes at 1 1 A M. every day. Fayetykville Mail, by Rail Road, is due on Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays, at 3 P. M., and closes on same days at 10 at night. Fatbttbvillb Mail, by Prospect Hall, Elizabethtown, Westbrooks, and Robesons, is due on Tuesdays Thurs day and Saturdays, at 9 A. M., and closes en same days at 10 P. M. mitiivim.e Mail, by Steamer, is doc daily at 8 A. M., and closes at I21 P. M. every day. Ta vi.on's Bridge, Long Creek, Moore?s Creek, Hi ack Rivbr Chapel, and Harwell's Store Mail, is due every Thursday at C P. M., and closes same night at 10. Onslow Court Housb, Stump Sound, and Topsail Mail, is due every Monday at 4 P. M., and closes every Thmsday night at 10 P. M. OP EVERY DESCRIPTION, Neatly executed and with despatch, on libera! terms for cash, at the JOURNAL OFFICE. ATTORNEY AT LAW, WILMINGTON, N. C. MYERS & BARNUM, ittanufactums & Ben lets tn KATS AND CAPS, WHOLESALE Alfrt HF.TAII., MA UKET STREET Wilmington, N. C. GEORGE W. DAVIS, Commission anil Forwarding OTERCIf ANT, LONDON'S WHARF) Wilmington, N. C. Auctioneer Commission Merchant, WILMINGTON, N. C. Liberal advances made on shipments to his friends in New York. September 21, 1814. 1-tf. GILLESPJES & ROBESOtf Continue the AGENCY" business, and will make liberal advances on consignments of Lumber, Naval Stores, &.C &c. Wilmington, August 1st, 1845. From the Georgia Scenes. THE HORSE-SWAP, During the session of the Supreme Court, in the village of -, about three weeks ago, when a number of people were collected in the principal street of the village, I observed a young man riding up and down the street, as t supposed, in a violent passion. He gallop ed this wav. then th;it, and then the other; spurred his horse to one group of citizens, then to another; then dashed off at half speed, as if fleeing from danger: and, suddenly check ing his horse, returned first in a pace, then in a trot, and then in a canter. While he was performing these various evolutions, he cursed, swore, whooped, screamed, and tossed himself in every attitude which man could assume on horseback. In short, he cavorted most mag nanimously (a term which, in our tongue, ex presses all that I have described, and a little more,) and seemed to be setting all creation at defiance. As I like to see all that is pass ing, I determined to take a position a little nearer to him, and to ascertain, if possible, what it was that affected him so sensibly. Accordingly, I appproached a crowd before which he had stopped for a moment, and ex amined it with the strictest scrutiny. But I could see nothing in it that seemed to have anything to do with the cavorter. Every man appeared to be in a good humor, and all minding their own business. Not one so much as noticed the principal figure. Still he went on. After a semicolon pause, which my appearance seemed to produce (for ho eyed mc closely as I approached), he fetched a whoop, and swore that " he could out-swap any live man, woman, or child that ever walk ed these hills, or that ever straddled horseflesh since the days of old daddy Adam. Stran ger," said he to me, " did you ever see the YalloxD Blossom from Jasper?" " No," said I, " but I have often heard of him." " Im the boy," continued he; " perhaps a leetle, jist a fre'le, of the best man at a horse swap that ever trod shoe-leather." I began to feel my situation a little awk ward, when I was relieved by a man some what advanced in years, who stepped up and began to survey the " Yallow Blossom's" horse with much apparent interest. This drew the rider's attention, and he turned the conversation from me to the stranger. "Well, my old coon," said he, "do you want to swap hossesT' " Why, I don't know," replied the stranger; " I believe I've got a beast I'd trade with you for that one, if you like him." " Well, fetch up your nag, my old cock ; you're jist the lark I wanted to get hold of. I am perhaps a. leetle, jist a leetle, of the best man at a horse-swap that ever stole cracldins out of his mammy's fat gourd. Where's your hossr " I'll bring him presently ; but I want to examine your horse a little." " Oh ! look at him," said the Blossom, a lighting and hitting him a cut ; " look at him. He's the best piece of Aossfiesh in the thirteen unite 1 universal worlds. There's no sort o' mistake in little Bullet. He can pick up miles on his feet, and fling 'em behind him as fast as the next man's hoss, I don't care where he comes from. And he can keep at it as long as the sun can shine without resting." During this harangue, little Bullet looked as if he understood it all, believed it, and was ready at any moment to verify it. He was a horse of goodly countenance, rather express ive of vigilance than fire ; though an unnatur al appearance of fierceness was thrown into it by the loss of his ears, which had been crop ped pretty close to his head. Nature had done but little for Bullet's head and neck j but he managed, In a great measure, to hide their to 1 DAVID rULTOJBi, Editoh defects by bowing perpetually. He had oh viously suffered severely for corn ; but if his ribs and hip bones had not disclosed the fact, lie never would have one it ; for he was in 'all respects as cheerful and happy as if he com manded all the corn -cribs and fodder-stacks :n Georgia. His height was about twelve hands : but as his shape partook somewhat of that of the giraffe, his haunches stood much lower. They were short, strait, peaked, and concave. Bullet's tail, however, made amends for all his defects. All that the artist could do to beautify it had been done; and all that horse could do to compliment the artist, Bullet did. His tail was nicked in superior style, and ex hibited the line of beauty in so many direc tions, that it could not fail to hit the most fas tidious taste in some of them. From the root it dropped into a graceful feston ; then rose in a handsome curve ; then resumed its first di rection ; and then mounted suddenly upward like a cypress knee to a perpendicular of about two and a half inches. The whole had a care less and bewitching inclination to the right. Bullet obviously knew where his beauty lay, and took all occasions to display it to the best advantage. If a stick cracked, or if any one moved suddenly about him, or coughed, or hawked, or spoke a little louder than com mon, up went Bullet's tail like lightning ; and if the going up did not please, the. coming down must of necessity, for it was as different from the other movement as wa;- its direction. The first was a bold and rapid flight upward, usually to an angle of forty-five degrees. In this position he kept his interesting appendage until he satished himself that nothing in par ticular was to be done ; when he commenced dropping it by half inches, in second beats. then in tripple time, then faster and shorter, and faster and shorter still, until it finally died away imperceptibly into its natural position. If I might compare sights to sounds, I should say its settling was more like the note of a locust than anything else in nature. Either from native sprightliness of disposi tion, from uncontrollable activity, or from an unconquerable habit of removing flies by the stamping of the feet, Bullet never stood still ; but always kept up a gentle fly-scaring move ment of his limbs, which was peculiarly in teresting. "I tell you, man," proceeded the Yellow Blossom, " he's the best live boss that ever trod the grit of Georgia. Bob Smart knows the hoss. Come here, Bob, and mount this hoss, and show Bullet's motions." Here Bul let bristled up, and looked as if he had been hunting for Bob all day long, and had just found him. Bob sprang on his back. "Boo-oo-oo !"' said Bob, with a fluttering noise of the lips; and away went Bullet, as if in a querter race, with all his beauties spread in handsome style. " Now fetch him back," said Blossom. Bullet turned and came in pretty much as he went out. " Now trot him by." Bullet reduced bis tail to " customary;" sidled to the right and left airily, and exhibited at leat three varieties of trot in the short space of fifty yards. " Make him pace !" Bob commenced twitching the. bridle and kicking at the same time. These inconsistent movements obvi ously (and most naturally) disconcerted Bul let; for it was impossible for him to learn, from them, whether he was to proceed or stand still. He started to trot, and was told that wouldn't do. He attempted a canter, and was checked again. lie stopped, and was urged to go on. Bullet now rushed into the wide field of experiment, and struck out a gait of his own, that completely turned the tables upon his rider, and certainly deserved a pat ent. It seemed to have derived its elements from the jig, the minuet, and the cotillon. If it was not a pace, it certainly had pace in it, and no man would venture to call it anything else ; so it passed off to the satisfaction of the owner. "Walk him!" Bullet was now at home again ; and he walked as if money was staked on him. The stranger, whose name, I afterward learned, was Peter Ketch, having examined Bullet to his heart's content, ordered his son Neddy to go and bring up Kit. Neddy soon appeared upon Kit; a well-formed sorrel of the' middle size, and in good order. His tout ensemble threw Bullet entirely in the shale, though a glance was sufficient to satisfy an) one that Bullet had the decided advantage of him in point of intellect. " Why, man," said Blossom, " do you bring such a boss as that to trade for Bullet ? Oh, 1 see you're no notion of trading." " Ride him off, Neddy !" said Peter. Kit put off at a handsome lope. " Trot him back !" Kit came in at a long, sweeping trot, and stopped suddenly at the crowd. "Well," said Blossom, "let me look at him ; maybe he'll do to plough." " Examine him !" said Peter, taking hold of the bridle close to the mouth ; " he's nothing but a tacky. He an't as pretty a horse as Bullet, I know: but he'll do. Start 'em to gether for a hundred and fifty mile; and if Kit an't twenty mile ahead of him at the coming out, any man may take Kit for nothing. But he's a monstrous mean horse, gentlemen ; any man may see that. He's the scariest horse, too, you ever saw. He won't do to hunt on, no how. Stranger, will you let Neddy have your rifle to shoot off him ? Lay the rifle be tween his ears, Neddy, and shoot at the blaze in that stump. Tell me when his head is high enough." Ned fired, and hit the blaze ; and Kit did not move a hair's breadth. " Neddy, take a couple of sticks, and beat on that hogshead at Kit's tail" Ned made a tremendous rattling, at which Bullet took fright, broke his bridle, and dash ed off in grand style ; and would have, stopped all farther negotiations by going home in dis gust, had not a traveller arrested him and bro't him back; but Kit did not move. " I tell you, gentlemen," continued Peter, " he's the scariest horse you ever saw. He an't as gentle as Bullet, but he won't do any harm if you watch him. Shall I put him in a cart, gig, or wagon for you, stranger ? He'll cut the' same capers there he does here. He's a monstrous mean horse." During all this time Blossom was examin ing him with the nicest scrutiny. Having ex amined his frame and limbs, he now looked at his eyes. " He's got a curious look out of his eyes," said Blossom. " Oh yes, sir," said Peter, " just as blind as a bat. Blind horses always have clear eyes. Make a motion at his eyes, if you please, sir." Blossom did so, and Kit threw up his head rather as if something picked him under the chin than as if fearing a blow. Blossom re peated the experiment, and Kit jerked back ID considerable astonishment. " Stone blind, you see, gentlemen," procee ded Peter ; " but he's just as good to travel of a dark night as if he had eyes." " Blame my buttons," said Blossom, " if I like them eyes." " No," said Peter, " nor I neither. Pd rath er have 'em made of diamonds ; but they'll do, if they don't show as much white as Ballet's." " Well said Blossom, " make a pass at me." VOL. 3. NO. 43. 1 J umttattin I GOD, WILMINGTON, N. C., FRIDAY, JULY 9, 1 847. No," said Peter; " you made the banter, now make your pass." " Well, I'm never afraid to price my hosses. You must give me twenty-five dollars boot." " Oh, certainly ; say fifty, and my saddle and bridle in. Here, Neddy, my son, take a way daddy's horse." "Well," said Blossom, " I've made mv pass, now make yours." " Pm for short talk in a horse-swap, and therefore always tell a gentleman at once what I mean to to do. ou must give me ten dol lars." Blossom swore absolutely, roundly, and profanely, that he never would give boot. " Well," said Peter, " I didn't care abcut trading; but you cut such high shines, that I thought I'd like to back you out, and I've done it. Gentlemen, you see I've brought him to a hack." " Come, old man," said Blossom. " I've been joking with you. I begin to think you do want to trade ; therefore, give me five dollars and take Bullet. I'd rather lose ten dollars any time than not make a trade, though I hate to fling away a good hoss." " Well," said Peter, " I'll be as clever as you are. Just put the five dollars on Bullet's back, and hand him over ; it's a trade." Blossom swore again, as roundly as before, that he would not give boot ; and, said he, " Bullet wouldn't hold five dollars on his back, no how. But, as I bantered you, if you say an even swap, here's at you.' " I told you," said Peter, " I'd be as clever as you, therefore, here goes two dollars more, just for trade sake. Give mc three dollars, and it's a bargain." Blossom repeated his former assertion ; and here the parties stood for a long time, and the by-standers (for many were now collected) began to taunt both parties. After some time, however, it was pretty unanimously decided lhat the old man had backed niossom out. At length Blossom swore he " never would be backed out for three dollars after bantering a man;" and, accordingly, they closed the trade. " Now," said Blossom, as he handed Peter the three dollars, " I'm a man that, when he. makes a bad trade, makes the most of it until he can make a better. I'm for no rues and after-claps." ' That's just my way," saicl Peter; " I nev er goes to law to mend my bargains." " Ah, you're the kind of boy I love to trade with. Here's your hoss, old man. Take the saddle and bridle off him, and I'll strip yours; but lift up the blanket easy from Bui let's back, for he's a mighty tender backed hoss." The old man removed the saddle, but the blanket stuck fast. He attempted to raise it, and Bullet bowed himself, switched his tail, danced a little, and gave signs of biting. " Don't hurt him, old man," said Blossom, archly; " take it off easy. I am, perhaps, a leetle of the best man at a horse-swap that ever catched a coon." Peter continued to pull at the blanket more and more roughly, and Bullet became more and more cavortsh: insomuch that, when the blanket came off, he had reached the kicking point in good earnest. The removal of the blanket disclosed a sore on Bullet's back-bone that seemed to have de fied all medical skill. It measured six full inches in length and four in breadth, and had as many features as Bullet had motions. My heart sickened at the sight ; and I felt that the brute who had been riding him in that situa tion deserved the halter. The prevailing feeling, however, was that of mirth. The laugh became loud and gener al at the old man's expense, and rustic witti cisms were liberally bestowed upon him and his late purchase. These Blossom continued to provoke by various remarks He asked the old man " if he thought Bullet would let five dollars lie on his back." He declared most seriously that he had owned that horse three months, and had never discovered before that he had a sore back, " or he never should have thought of trading him," &c, Sec. The old man bore it with the most philoso phic composuie. He evinced no astonishment at his late discovery, and made no replies. But his son Neddy had not disciplined his feelings quite so well. His eyes opened wi der and wider from the first to the last pull of the blanket"; and when the whole sore burst upon his view, astonishment and fright seem ed to contend for the mastery of his counte nance. As the blanket disappeared, he stuck his hands in his breeches pockets, heaved a deep sigh, and lapsed into a profound revery, from which he was only roused by the cuts of his father. lie bore them as long as he could ; and, when he could contain himself no longer, ke began, with a certain wildness of expression which gave a peculiar interest to what he uttered : " His back's mighty bad off ; but dod drot my soul if he's put it to daddy as bad as he thinks he has, for old Kit's both blind and dec, I'll be dod drot if he eint." " The devil he is," said Blossom. " Yes, dod drot my soul if he eint You walk him, and see if he eint. His eyes don't look like it; but he'd jist as leve go agin the house with you, or in a ditch, as any how. Now you go try him." The laugh was now turned on Blossom ; and many rushed to test the fidellity of the little boy's report. A few experiments established its truth beyond con troversy. " Neddy," said the old man, " you oughtn't to try and make people discontented with their things. Stranger, don't mind what the little boy says. If you can only get Kit rid of them little failings, you'll find him all sorts of a horse. You are a leetle the best man at horse swap that ever I got hold of; but don't fool a way Kit. Come, Neddy, my son, let's be mo ving; the stranger seems to be getting snappish." HALL. A Lesson for Scolding Wives. " And I dare say you have scolded your wife very of ten, Newman," said I, once. Old Newman looked down, and his wife took up the reply " Never to signify and if he has, I deser ved it !" " And I dare say, if the truth were told, you have scolded him quite as often." " Nav," said the old woman, with'a beauty of kindness which all the poetry in the world cannot excel, " How can a wife scold her good man, who has been working for her and her little ones all the day ? It may do for a man to be peevish, for it is he who bears the crosses of the world ; but who should make him forget them but his own wife ? And she had best, for her own sake for nobody can scold much when the scolding is all on one side." I Geography: First Class. Teacher. "What isTexas bounded by ?" Scholar. " By an nexation on the East, by Indian treaties on the West, by nothing particular on the North, and by the Halls of the xVIontezumason the South." Tea cher. " What are its products?" Schoia r. " Bowie-knives, rifles, revolving pistols ; and in summer, pecans and horned fiogs." Teach er. " Good ! The school's dismissed. -r s r 7 m f iv. u. uetiu. Existence is only felt to be valuable while it is necessary to some one dear to us. The moment we become aware that our death would leave no aching void in a human heart, the charm is gone. our country, and liberty. A NIGHT OF YEARS. BY GRACE GREENWOOD. My Reader I have sat some minutes, with my pen suspended in air above my paper. I have been debating a delicate point I am in a position. You will perhaps recollect that one of Fanny Forest's exquisite sketches was entitled " Lucy Dutton." Now, it happens the real name of the hero ine of the " ower true tale," which I am a bout to do myself the honor of relating to you, was no other than Lucy Dutton. Shall 1 rob her of her birthright compel her to wear a nom de guerre, because my sister-authoress accidentally gave the true name to one of her ideal creations ? Shall I sacrifice truth to deli cacy ? that's the question. t: No ?" You said no, did you not ? Then Lucy, Lucy Dutton, let it be" Some forty years since, in the interior of my beautiful native State, New York, lived the father of our heroine, an honest and re spectable farmer. He had but two children Lucy, a noble girl of nineteen, and Ellen, a year or two younger. The first named was winning, rather than strikingly beautiful. Un der a manner observable foits seriousness, and non-like serenity, were concealed an im passionate nature, and a heart of the deepest capacity for loving. She was remarkable from her earliest childhood for a voice of thrilling and haunting sweetness. Ellen Dutton was the brilliant antipode of her sister ; a " born beauty," whose preroga tive of prettiness was to have her irresponsi ble own way, in all things, and at all times. An indulgent father, a weak mother, and an idolizing sister, had all unconsciously "con tributed to the ruin of a nature not at the first remarkable for strength or generosity. Where, in all God's creatures, is heartless ness so seemingly unnatural is selfishness so detestable, as in a beautiful woman ! Lucy possessed a fine intellect, and as her parents were well reared New Englanders, she and her sister were far better educated than other girls of their station, in that then half settled portion of the country. In those days, many engaged in school teaching, from the honor and pleasure which it afforded, rath er than from necessity. Thus, a few months previous to the commencement of our sketch, Lucy Duttoa left for the first time her fireside circle, to take charge of a school, some twenty miles from her native town. For some while, her letters home were ex pressive only of the happy contentment which sprang from the consciousness of active use fulness, of receiving, while imparting good. But anon there came a change ; then were those records for home characterized by fitful gayety, or dreary sadness; indefinable hopes and fears seemed striving for supremacy in the writer's troubled little heart. Lucy loved, but scarcely acknowledged it to herself, while she knew not that she was loved ; so for a time that beautiful second birth of woman's nature was like a warm sunrise cold mists of morning. struggling with the But one day brought a letter which could not soon be forgotten in the home of the ab sent one a letter traced bv a hand that trem bled in sympathy with a heart tumultuous with happiness. Lucy had been wooed and won, and she but waited her parent's approval of her choice, the betrothed of young Edwin W , a man of excellent family and stand ing in the town where she had been teaching. The father and mother accorded their sanction with many blessings: and Lucy's next letter promised a speedy visit from the lovers. To such natures as Lucy's, what an absorb ing, and yet what a revealing of self is a first passion what a prodigality of giving what an incalculable wealth of receiving what a breaking up is there of the deep waters of the soul, and how Heaven descends in a sudden star shower upon life. If there is a season when an angel may look with intense and fear ful interest upon her moral sister, 'tis when she beholds her heart pass from the bud-like innocence and freshness of girlhood, and ta king to its very core the fervid light of Jove, glow and crimson into perfect womanhood. At last the plighted lovers came, and wel comes and festivals awaited them. Mr. W gave entire satisfaction to father, mother, and even to the enacting " beauty." He was a handsome man, with some pretensions to fash ion, but in manner, and apparently in charac ter, the opposite of his betrothed. It was decided that Lucy should not again leave home, until after her marriage, which at the request of the ardent lover, was to be cel ebrated with two months, and on the coming birth-day of the bride. It was therefore arran ged that Ellen should return with Mr. W , to M ,to take charge of her sister's school for the remainder of the term. The birth-day had come. It had been ush ered in by a May morning of surpassing love liness the busy hours had borne away, and now it was nigh sunset, and neither the bride groom nor Ellen, the first bridesmaid, had ap peared. Yet in her neat little chamber sat Lucy, nothing doubting, nothing fearing. She was already clad in a simple white muslin, and hei few bridal adornments lay on the ta ble by her side. Maria Allen, her second bridesmaid, a bright eyed affectionate hearted girl, her chosen friend from childhood, was ar ranging to a more graceful fall, the wealth of light ringlets which swept her snowy neck. To the anxious inquiries of her companion, respecting the absent ones, Lucy ever smiled quietly and replied: " Oh, something has happened to detain them a while we heard from them the other day and all was well. They will be here by-and-by never fear." Evening came, the guests were all assem bled, and yet the " bridegroom tarried." There were whisperings, surmises and wonderings, and a shadow of anxiety occasionally passed over the fair face of the bride-elect. At last, a carriage drove rather slowly to the door. " They are come !" cried many voices, and the next moment the belated bridegroom and Ellen entered. In reply to the hurried and confused inquiries of all around him, Mr. W muttered something about " unavoid able delay," and stepping to the side-board, tossed off a glass of wine, another, and anoth er. The company stood silent with amaze ment. Finally a rough old farmer exclaimed, " Better late than never, young man so lead out the bride." W strode hastily across the room, pla ced himself by Ellen, and took her hand in his ! Then, without daring to meet the eye of any about him, he said : " I wish to make an explanation Ian un der the painful necessity that is, I have the pleasure to announce that I am already mar ried. The lady whom 1 hold by the hand is my wife. Then, turning in an apologetical manner to Mr. and Mrs. Dutton, he added, " I found that I had never loved, until I knew your second daughter." And Lucy ? She heard all with strange calmness, then walked steadily forward and confronted her betrayer! Terrible as pale Nemesis herself, she stood before them, and her look pierced like a keen cold blade into their false hearts. As though to assure her self of the dread reality of the vision, she laid her hand on Ellen's shoulder, and let it glide down her arm but she touched not Edwin. As those coid fingers met hers,- the unhappy onvnul wife first gazed full into her sister's face; and as she marked the ghastly pallor of the cheek, the dilated nostrils the quivering lip and the intensely mournful eyes, she covered her own face with her hands, and burst into tears, while her young husband, awed by the terri ble silence of her he had wronged, gasped for breath, and staggered back against the wall. Then Lucy clasped her hands on her forehead, first gave voice to her anguish and despair in one fearful cry, which could but ring forever through the souls of that guilty pair, and fell in a deathlike swoon at their feet. After the insensible girl had been removed to her chamber, a stormy scene ensued in the room beneath. The parents and guests were alike enraged against W ; but the tears and prayeTs of his young wife, the petted beau ty and spoiled child, at last softened somewhat the anger of ihe parents, and an opportunity for an explanation was accorded to the offen ders. A sorry explanation it proved. The gen tleman affirmed that the first sight of Ellen's lovely face had weakened the empire Gf her plainer sister over his affections. Frequent interviews had completed the conquest of his loyalty ; but he had been held in check by honor, and never told his love, until when on his way to espouse another, in an unguarded ( moment, he had revealed it, and the avowal had called forth an answering acknowledgment from Ellen, They had thought it best, in order " to save P3.1" tG Lfficy,H and prevent opposition from her and to secure their own happiness, to be married before their arrival at C Lucy remained insensible for some hours When she revived and had apparently regain ed her consciousness, she still maintained her strange silenc. This continued for many weeks, and when it partially passed away, her friends saw, with inexpressible grief, that her reason had fled she vas hopelessly in sane ! But her madness was of a mild and harmless nature. She was gentle and peace able as ever, but sighed frequently, and seem ed burdened with some great sorrow which she could not herself comprehend. She had one peculiarity, which all who knew her in after years must recollect ; this was a wild fear and careful avoidance of men. She also seemed possessed by the spirit of unrest. She could not, she would not be confined, but was constantly escaping from her friends, and go ing they knew not whither. While her parenfs lived, they, by their watchful care, and unwearying efforts, in some measure controlled this sad propensity ; but when they died, their stricken child became a wanderer, homeless, friendless and forlorn. Through laughing springs, and rosy sum mers, and golden autumns, and tempestuous winters, it was tramp, tramp, no rest for her of the crushed heart and the crazed brain. I remember her as she was in my early childhood, toward the last of her weary pil grimage. As my father and my elder broth ers were frequently absent, and as my mother never closed her heart or her door on the un fortunate, "Crazy Lucy," often spent an hour or two by our fire-side. Her appearance was very singular. Her gown was always patch ed with many colors, and her shawl, or man tle, worn and torn, until it was all open work and fringe. The remainder of her miserable wardrobe she carried in a bundle, on her arm, and sometimes she had a number of parcels of old rags, dried herbs, &c. In the season of flowers, her tattered bonnet was profusely decorated with those which she gathered in the wood, or by the way side. Her love for these and her sweet voice were all that were left her of the bloom and music of existence. Yet no. her meek and child-like piety still lingered. Her God had not forsaken her ; down into the chaos of her spirit, the smile of His love yet gleamed faintly in the waste garden of her heart she still heard His voice at eventide, and she was not " afraid." Her Bible went with her every where, a torn and soiled volume, but as holy still, and it may be as dearly cherished, my reader, as the gorgeous copy now lying on your table, bound in "purple and gold," and with the gilding un tarnished upon its delicate leaves. I remember to have heard my mother relate a touching little incident connected with one of Lucy's brief visits to us. The poor creature once laid her hand on the curly head of one of my brothers, and asked of him, his name. " William Edwin,' he re plied, with a timid, upward glance. She caught away her hand, and sighing heavily, said, as though thinking aloud, 'I knew an Edwin once, and he made me broken-hearted.' This was the only instance in which she was ever known to revert to the sad event which had' desolated her life. Thirty years from the time of the commence ment of this mournful" history, on a bleak an tumnal evening, a rough country wagon drove into the village of C . It stopped at the alms house, an attenuated form was lifted out, and carried in; and the wagon rumbled away. Thus was Lucy Dutton brought to her native home to die. She had been in a decline for some months, and tdie miraculous strength which had so long sustained her in her weary wandering, at last forsook her utterly. Her sister had died some time before, and the widowed husband had soon after removed with his family to the far West ; so Lucv had no friend no home but the alms-house. But they were very kind to her there. The matron, a true woman, whose soft heart even the hourly contemplation of human misery could not harden, gave herself with unweary ing devotion to the care of the quiet sufferer. With the eye of Christian faith, she watched the shattered bark of that life, as borne down the tide of time itneared the great deep of eter nity, with an interest of intense as though it were a roval galley. One day, about a week from the time of her arrival, Lucy appared to suffer greatly, and those about her release almost impatiently ; but at night she was evidently better, and, for the first time, slept tranquilly until morning. The matron who was by her bedside when she awoke was startled by the clear and ear nest gaze which met her own, but she smiled, and bade the invalid good morning!" Lucy looked bewildered, but the voice seemed to re assure her and exclaimed ; "Oh, what a long, long night this has been!" Then glancing around inquiringly, she added " Where am I? and who are you? I do not know vou." . A wild surmise flashed across the mind of the matron the long lost reason of the wan derer had returned ! But the good woman re plied calmly and soothingly : "Why, you are among your friends and you will know me presently." "Then may be you know Edwin and Ellen.'" reioined the invalid ; "have they come ? Oh T bad such a terrible dream ! I dreamed that thev were married ! Only think, Ellen mar ried to Edwin ! its strange I should dream that." - "Mv poor Lucy." said tne matron, witn a gush of tears "that was not a dream 'twas all true." " All true cried the invalid, " then Edwin must be untrue and that cannot be, for he loved me we loved each other well, and El len m my sister. Let me see them, I will go to them!" TERMS : 82 50 in advance. 4 WHOLE NO. 1 47. She endeavored to miso WMf tM back on the pillow. "Why what does this mean ."' said she " W hat makes me so week .'" Just then, htr eye fell on her hand ! She gazed on it in blank amazement " Something is the matter with my sight," she said smiling faintingly, "for my hand looks to me like an old woman's." "And so it is," said the matron, gently, and so is mine ; and yet we had fair, plump hands when young. Dear Lucy do you not know me .' I am Maria Allen, I was to have been your bridesmaid ?" I can no more I will not make the vain attempt to give in detail ali that revealing to reduce to inexpressive words the dread subli mity of that hopeless sorrow. To the wretched Lucv the last thirty years were all as though they had never been. Of not a scene, not an incident, had she the slight est remembrance since the night when the re-1 creant lover and the traitoress sister stood be- fore her and made their terrible announcement The kind matron paused f&quently in the saa narration oi ner poor triend s madness and wanderings but the invalid would say with fearful calmness, "go on, go on," though the beaded drops of agony stood thick upon her foreheai . When she asked for her sister, the matron replied She has gone before vou and your father also." " And my mother ?" said Lucv. her face lit with sickly ray of hope. 1 our mother has been dead for twenty years." "Dead.' All gone ! Alone, old. dvine-! Oh, God, my cup of bitterness is full !" And she wept aloud. Her friend, bending over her. and minfflimr tears with hers, said affectionately : but you know who drank that cuo be fore you." Lucy looked up with bewildered exnression. and the matron added : " The Lord Jesus, you remember him." A look like sunheht breakinc tbroucb a cloud a look which only saints may wear irradiated the tearful face of a dying" woman, as she replied : ' Oh, yes, I knew and loved Him before I fell asleep." I he man of God was called. A few who had known Lucy in her early days came also There was much reverential wondering and weeping around ner death-bed. Then rose the voice of prayer. At first her lips moved as her weak spirit joined in that fervent appeal then they grew still, and poor Lucy was dead dead in her gray haired youth ! But those who had gazed upon that placid face, and remembered her harmless life and her patient suffering, doubted not that the morn of an eternal day had broken on her Night or Years. WHAT A PAIR OF ANDIRONS COST. FROM THE PLEDGE AND STANDARD. Peter,' said my uncle, knocking the ashes from his pipe, and laying it on the corner of the mantle piece, and then fixing his eyes on the andirons, ' Peter those andirons cost me one thousand dollars !' ' Dear me !' exclaimed my aunt. Oh, father !' exclaimed the girls. Impossible !' said I. True, every word true. One thousand did I say ? yes two thousand full two thou sand dollars.' ' Well, well,' said my aunt, folding up her knitting for the night, I should like to know what you are talking about.' My uncle bent forward and planted his hands firmly on his parted knees, and with a deliberate air, which showed no doubt of his being able to prove his assertion, he began : Well, you see, a good many years ago, we had a pair of common old andirons. Your cousin Letty says one day, ' father, don't you think those old andirons are getting too shab by ?' Shabby or not, I thought they would hold the wood up as nicely as if they were made of gold. So I paid no attention to Letty. I was afraid she was growing proud. Soon after that, Peter,' continued my uncle, your aunt took -it up' ' There it goes,' interrupted my aunt, you can't get" along without dragging me in.' Your aunt took it up, Peter, and she said ' our neighbors could afford brass andirons, and were no better off than we were.' A nd sho said ' Letty and her sister Jane were just get ting old enough to see company, and the stin gy looking old andirons might hurt their mar ket.' I knew that women will have their own way, and there was no use in objecting, and so I got the andirons.' 4 The price of them was four dollars and a half' ' Ah, that's more like it,' cried my aunt; 'I thought you said two thousand dollars.' My dear, I wish you would not interrupt me. Four and a half. Well, the first night after we had got them, as we all sat by the warm fire talking over the matter, Letty called my attention to the hearth, the stones of which were cracked and uneven. The hearth was entirely out of keeping with the new andirons, and I thought I might as well have it replaced first as last. The next day a mason was sent for to examine it. He came in my absence, and when I returned home your aunt and cou sins all beset me at once, to have a marble slab. The mason had convinced them the hearth would not look decent without a mar ble slab, and they put their heads together ' ' La, me !' exclaimed my aunt, ' there was no putting any heads together about it. The hearth was a real old worn out thing, not fit for a pig-pen.' ' They put their heads together. Peter, as I was saying, and continued till I got a marble hearth, which cost me twenty dollars. Yes, twenty dollars, at least. Then I thought I was done with expenses, but I thought wrong. Pretty soon I began to hear sly hints thrown outabout the brick-work around the fire-place not corresponding with the hearth. I stood out for a month or two against your aunt and the girls, but they at length got the better of me, and I was forced to have marble instead of brick. And then the old wooden mantel piece was so out of character that it was ne cessary to have a marble one. The cost of all this was nearly one hundred dollars. And now that the spirit of improvement had got a start, there was no stopping place. The new marble mantel put to shame the old white washed walls, and they must be painted, of course, and to prepare them for paint, sundry repairs were necessary. While this was go ing on, your aunt and the girls appeared to be quite satisfied, and when it was done, they had no idea the old parlor could bt made to look so spmce. But this was only a short re spite. The old rag carpet began to raise a dust, and I found there would be no peace ' ' Now, my dear !' said the old lady, with a pleasing smile, accompanied with a partial ro tation of the head Now, father !' exclaimed the girls ' 'Till I got a new carpet. That again sha med the old furniture, and it had to be turned out and replaced with new. Now, Peter, count up, my lad twenty dollars for the hearth, and one hundred for the mantel-piece, and thirty for repairs. What does that make ?' One hundred and fifty, uncle. Terms for Advertising. ' 8Q.CARE or IIXTSIV lmhs ok ub, One .juate true insertion, it 00 do. do. 2 insertions. T 2& do. Jo. do. do. do. do. do. do. do. do. do. do. 3 do. 1 &0 3 months without change, 3 00 do. do. 4 50 13 do. d. do. 8 0O- do. renewed weekly, 13 Off 12 do. do. An. n no A liberal discount will be made on advertise menu exceeding one square, when published of 13 montfw, cath in advance. dj'If ihe number of insertions are not marked on the advertisement, they will be contTnoed tfmtf ordered oat, and charged for accordingly. rK"?0"' required to be PAID Well, firfty for paper and painf - lwo nunnred.' Then fifty for a carpet, and one hundred" at least for furniture' ' Jhree hundred and fifty.' Ahem ! There's fnat clock too,- nJ the blinds fifty more' Four hundred exactly.' My aunt amf cousinrinked at each ofhef . row,' continued nryiclcf so much for this one room. No sooner was the room fin--ished.than the complaints came from all quar ters, about the dining room and entry. Long before this I had surrendered at discretion, and handed in my submission. The dining-room cost four hundred more. What dees thaf count, Peter ?' Eight hundred, uncle.' Then the chambers at least four hundred to make them rhyme with the down staws.' I Twelve hundred.' , The outside of the house had to be repair ed and painted, of course. Add two hundred oorteen hundred.' ' Then there mtrsf be a piazza in front-' that cost two hundred.' Sixteen hundred.'' Here aunt began to yawn, Letty to poke the fire, and Jane to twirl over the leaves of book. 4 A new carriage came next, Pe1er,tht cost two hundred dollars.' Eighteen hundred.' Then there was a lawn to be laid ouf and neatly fenced a servant to be hired parties given occasionally bonnets and dresses at double the former cost, and a hundred other little expenses in keeping with the new order of things. And all thii- grew out of those ve ry andirons. Yes, Pettr, I was entirely with in bounds when I said two thousand dollars.' The opposition was silenced. My aunt immediately rose and guessed if was bed time. 1 was left alone with my uncle, who was not inclined to drop the subject. He was a perse vering man, and never gave up what he un dertook, till he had done the work thoroughly. So he brought out his books and accounts, an J set about making an exact estimate of the ex penses. He kept me up till after midnight, before he got through. His conclusion was1 that the pair of andirons cost him twenty-four hundred and fifty dollars t THE MAN" WHO KISSED THE THREE GIRLS. A young man who boarded at a house in the country, where were several city damsels, who seemed to imagine that men are terrible creatures, whom it was an unpardonable sin to look at, was one afternoon accosted by an acquaintance, and asked what he thought of the young ladies with whom he boarded t He replied tliat they were very shy and reser ved. " So they are," returned the other, " and so much so that no gentleman could get near e nough to tell the color of their eyes." " That they may be," said the boarder, "yet I will stake a million that I c.aa kiss them all three, without any trouble." " That you cannot do," cried his friend ; M it is an achievement which neither you nor any other man can accomplish." The other was positive, and invited his friend to the house to witness his triumph. They entered the room together, and the three girls were all at home sitting beside their mo ther, and they all looked pum and demure as John Rodgers at the stake. Our hero assumed a very grave aspect, even to dejection, and halving looked wistfully at the clock, breathed a sigh as deep as Algebra, and as long as a female dialogue at a street door. His singwlar deportment now attracted the attention 6l the girls, who cast their slow" opening eyes up to his countenance. Perceiv ing the impression he had made, he turnel to his companion and said, " It wants three minutes of the time !' " Do you speak of dinner ?" said the old la dy, laying down her sewing work. " Dinner !" 6aid he with bewildered aspect, and pointing, as if unconsciously, with curled forefinger, at the clock. A silence ensued, during which the female part of her household glared at the young man with irrepressible curiosity. " You will see me decently interred' said he, again turning to his friend. His friend was as much puzzled as any bo dy present, and his embarrassment added to i the intended effect ; but the old lady, being no longer able to contain herself, cried, " Mr. C , pray what do yon apeak of?" " Nothing," answered he, in a lngubriou tone, " but that last night a spirit appeared unto me !" Here the girls rose to their feet and drew near. " And the spirit gave mo warning that I should die exactly at twelve o'clock to-day, and you see it wants but half a minute of the time V The girls turned pale, and" their hidden sym- j pathies were at once awakened for the doom ed. J hey stood chained to tne spot, looking alternately at the clock and at the unfortunate youth. He then walked up to the eldest of the girls, and taking her by the hand, bade her a solemn farewell. He also imprinted a kiss upon her trembling lips, which she did not attempt to resist. He then bade the sec ond and third farewell, in the same tender and affectionate manner. His object Was achieved, and that moment the dock struck twelve. -Hereupon he looked around, surprised, and ejaculated, " Who would have believed that an apparition would tell such a lie i it was probably the ghost of Annania or Sapphira." It was some time before the sober maidens understood the joke, and when they did, they evinced no resentment. The first kiss broke the ice ; and, thanks to the ghost, tbey dis covered there was some pleasure in a bearded cheek. Master of his Craft. One erf those hardy sons of the ocean, (jack Tars,) in retorningto his ship at Vera Cruz, captured a donkey, and immediately mounted him, but seating himself on the rump, the animal kicked up and came near throwing him off. A soldier told him to sit further forward on the mule and he would not kick so. The tar replied- I'll e you blowed first ; this is my craft, and I'd like to know who'll stop me from ridingon the quar ler deck of my ownJfackassT The Hen-Pecked. A friend of ours on Fourth street had a sprightly male Canarv birds which he mated a short time since, and Mr. Canarv soon built herself a nest in the cage, had the right number of eggs, and com menced sitting on ihem. It would seem from what followed, that she now thought herself entitled to exemption from all other labor, even that of providing food for herself, and that Mr. Canary was neglectful of her wants. On Sunday last she came off her nest and went at him, drove him about the cage, and after picking at him severely, returned to her seat on the nest. The result of the thrashing was soon apparent ; Mr. Canary has ever since been careful to keep her supplied with food, bringing the seed to her and putting it in her mouth in the kindest manner, the flogging having operated to a charm. Troy Telegraph. True delicacy, as true geneiowty, is more wounded by an offence from itaelf, if the ex pression may be allowed, than to ittelf. I