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NEWBERN N. C, SATURDAY, 28th OCTOBER, 183. VOL L NO. 19 9 a V ho is er of T E R W S : ,obIilicd weekly by wfacfic" & IIallJ , , per annum, in rfrnre. AH orders BltiireedoUtrsP giatei must be accornpa- fr,hiSrXrca0"h or. responsible reference. ' . n. verted at - Pre for the first insertion, and tkutyrenondn laffents for each subsequent publication. Any .1 Jtionmadeina published advertisement .1 h. revest of the advertiser, shall subject turn to the usual charge for n first insertion. Corzri Onto, and Judiewl flere- be charged twaHg-five per cent, higher than the rates specified above; and yearly Hdvert.sctncnts, fArty Ams a third per cent lower. y,& WW;, in ell cases, must be paid for on del- 1ePUkpid LKTTF.rti, addressed to The New bernian." will not. in any casc.be taken trom the postoffice. POETKY. LAIS DEO. I-.V LAU'itENCF. L ADR EC. Almhtv Father ! Universal God ! At whoso command creation sprang to wgat, How can we cast our mortal eyes abroad, And view Thy marvellous majesty and might, Nor feci our hearts expand with holy love Toward hirn who formed the lion and the dove ! When i ret this globe was but a shapeless ball, Void, without form, and darkness covered all, Thou from his throno the dusky Chaoa hurled ; And light celestial beamed o'er all tha world ! Father.' to tine, when shades arc on the earth, And hush'J each eouud of revelry and mirth, Man'. fervent prayer - Tlioa know'et his heart The terr.pl- whence Lis holiest feelings start ; A'vl Thou disdiinest not his prayers to hear, If they but rise devoted and sincere. Even Nature jn'na bcr voice, and helps to raise The B.ing of universal love and praise ; The fe uher'd warbler, from the leafy tree, Fours forlli its richest melody to Thee ; Th' impetuous torrent joins the swelling throng, And adds iia thunder to the anthom song ; Mj rstic Ocean "bhakca his frothy mane," Caich-i th'- echo and repeats again, Till all creation swells the choir to eing The everlasting praise of Heaven's King Thus unto Thee, O God .' great praisa is given liy aii on earth, and all the hosts of Heaven ! Our Heavenly F.ith-r ! when man steps astray Gaide thou his feet direct anew his way, Nor let him wander far in Error'a Maze, A elave to Folly and her luresome ways ; Implant within his heart a passion meek, To love Religion, and her paths to seek ; Th', when his end may come, hi9 soul may fly To hold communion with the just on hiyh ! .IIISCEIANKOIIS. From Gudty's Lady's Boot. DOVT BE DISCOURAGED. BY T. S. ARTHUR. ' There, U a divinity that ?hnpes our ends, Uough hew them as we will.' Don't be discouraged, my young fiienJ !' riid iin elderly man to It is companion, whose- youthful appearance indicated that few mom than twenty ycais Iiad passed over hi ln-nd. 4 But I r.n; tJiscouragnJ, Tr. Linlon. Ilav'nt f been sadly disappointed in everv thing thai I have undertaken ? Success is a word, the meaning of which I shall never to aU.e.' Yon are young, Henry.1 Quito old enough to have proved, be yond a doubt, that try as I will, I shall never riso in the world. I am doomed lo struggle on, Iik a swimmer against a strong current. Instead of advancing at all, I shall giaduulJy be borne down llio stream. 4 U you cease lo st ugglc, you will, un questionably. And will, whether I struggle or not.1 ' No: that cannot be. Be vigorous, and long con'inucd effort will gradually strength en and m-jtuio your ibonghts. Rough con tact with the wot Id, in which you are made to sufT.-r keenly, will bring out the latent energies of 0r mind. Bear on manfully for a few years falter not, though every thing looks dark, and success will as cer tainly crown your efforts, as on effect fol lows its producing cause. ' ! wish f could think so, the young man replied, shaking his head despondingly. 4 ut I am fully convinced, hal for me, at tSJSf, ttio door of success is closed. 4 How old are you, Henry V Jusl twenty seven.' And nou have already failed in three business t-8oris V 1 uireo Yes, and what h Wor8n , , involved in deb.. liava becon,e ' Cut you mean to pay aU JQU is ever in your power V Can you doubt that for a moment Mr Linton V the young man said in a quick tune, while a flush passed over his face, 1 And yet you were iust now lulkinc about 67 in despaii V ,UQ. And I do feel utterly discouraged ast five years no man has laboured more earnestly lhan , ha Eary and late, have I been m i . even nil rnidn.ght, and yet all has been i.i vim. Ltko a man in ,., , ... u qmijniirc every j ruW I. o irii. ,nj,U f,om diffleo,lie Yplyhadil.c0ct i.tiBk m8 0e ; men, I am regarded by many as little) bet ter than a swindler. You are wrong, in regard to that, Henry. Such is not the estimation in which you ate held. Yes, but it is. I have been told to my teeth thai I was not an honest man. By whom V By at least one of my creditors.' That is the solitary case of a man whose inordinate love of self, showing itself in a love of money, has made him forect ihe first principles of the law of human kindness. No mutter what prompted the unkind remark, its rffect is none the less painful es pecially as he fully believed what he said. ' You cannot tell, Henry, whether he fully believed it or not. But suppose that his words did but express his real thoughts 1 what then 1 Does his opinion of you make you different from what you really are 1' Of course not. But it is very painful to havo such things said.' No doubt of it. Bui conscious integrity of purpose should be sufficient to sustain nny man.' 1 1 miht in my case, if I were not f thoroughly crushed down. My mind is like an ii.flumd body the lightest touch is felt far more sensibly lhan would be a heavy blow if all were healthy. You understand me V Perfectly, nnd can feel for you. But knowing that the state of mind in which you ure i, as you intimate, an unhealthy one, i cannot agree with you in your discouraging conclusions.' But what can I do ? Have I not failed in three earnest, an well directed efforts to advance myself .. the world V Try again, Henry.' And come out woisc than before. No no tha; need not follow. Try in a better way. Do you mean to intimato that I have not conducted my business in a proper man ner ?' asked i he young man, in a quick voice, his cheek instantly glowing. ' 1 do not mean to iniimaio,' returned ISIr. Linton candy, that you commi'ied any wil ful wrong in your business And yet I sup pnsc yon will not yourself deny the position, that theie was something wrong about it, or success would have met your earnest ef forts, instead of failure. I don't knouv, was the gloomy response. The fates,, 1 believe, are against me. What do you mean by the fntes V The young man made no reply, and his monitor resumed in a still more serious lone 4 You can only mean, of coorse, the Di vine Being who is the author of our exi tence, and the controller of our destinies. That Beine who is essential love and wis dom and whose acts towards us can only flow from a pure regard for ihe good of his creatures. And if such regard bo directed by wisdom that cannot err, can any act ol his towards you be evil I ' Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his crace ; Behind a frowning providence. He hides a smiling (ace. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour ; The bud may have a bitter tasln, But sweet wilt be the flower !' " I try to think in that way nnd try of ten, returned the young man in a softened tone. Bui if is hard, very hard to believe lhai a Being of infinite goodness would so hedge up the path of any one as mine has been hedged up would so mock with vain hopes the heart of any onu as mine has been mocked. Your mind is not now in a state to think calmly and lationally upon this subject, Henry,' Mr- Linton said ; but the lime will come when you will see in this siatf? of severe trial a dispensation of mercy. It will then be perceived, that all this was for ihe purpose of giving you juster views of life, and coufirmino yuu in the higher ends than any you have heretofore acted upon. For the present, I will only repeat Don't b discouraged ! Try again ! Put your shoulder once more to ihe wheel. Deo. nd tiDon it. your time will corne ; but not until you can bear success in a right spirit. And to have success before you are thus prepared to bear it, would bo the worst injury that could be fall you. Henry Grant, the young man here intro duced to the reader's notice, had, at the age of twenty-one, done the very imprudent thing of entering into business for himself. True, from the age of seventeen, he had been in tho store of a me chant, who carried on a very extensive trade, ond had, moreover, acquired so thorough a knowledge of busi nes, that the most important subordinate position in (he house had been assigned to him. But all this confi lence reposed in him and this familiarity with the business, in which he was engaged, deceived him. He saw that heavy profits were accruing every year. I hat while he was toiling on through the long months of an annual cycle for a single thousand dollars, tens of thousands were add ed to the coffe.s of his already wealthy em ltoyer. 4 Why should I waste the best years of l t u- in making money for others,' he hi , mJ? ,n-S0,f lhe day afle' ,je ad attained nis majority. J !n h wT811! WM lhe germ of discontent in h.s mind. It was nourished, and grew into a tree, who.ethick leaves so over shadowed his mind, that he could not see the clear sky of sober truth above, in which shone stars whose brightness beamed forth to guide him. He became eager for wealth that he might heve selfish enjoyments. Every beautiful dwelling, the reward ot per haps years of steady industry, and now en joyed by some opulent merchant, he envied its possessors. He sighed when a rich man s carriage rolled by him in the street. Nothing rare, or new, or elegant, gratified hiseje, because it was not his own. Impelled by a weak nnd selfish desire to be suddenly rich, a few years after he had come to the age of manhood, be drew from the hands of his guardian five thousand dol lars, the hard-earned and carefully husband ed treasure left him by his father, and threw himself with large ideas and unwaveiing con fidence upon the troubled sea of merchan dise. The story of this adventure is soon told. In two .ears he was compelled to wind up his business, having lost his entire capital. This was a painlul shock. J3ut it was oi use to him, in unsealing his eyes, and giving hirn a truer view of life, and sober ideas from which lo act. Still, he could uot think, hav ing once been in business for himself, of fall ing back into lhe monotonous, dull, and hum ble condition of a clerk. There was some thing in the fact of mingling with merchants on a plane of equality, that flattered his van ity. He had thus mingled and thus felt flat tered. The thought of taking his old posi tion, and of losing the courtesies that had been so grateful to him, was more than he could think of enduring. This feeling alone had none operated other in his mnd. would have induced him again to make an effort to get into business. A few months enabled him to so arrange his old affairs, as to be ready to go on again. Ho found numbers ready to sell him goods on short credit, and this determined him once more to cast himself upon the ocean. He did so. Two more years passed on, and and at their termination he found himself, alas ! again in a narrow place. Much more than all his profits in that time was locked up in bad debts, remnants, and unsaleable goods. For a time, by borrowing from a few friends, he had been enabled to meet his payments, but that resource at last failed, and trouble again came upon him. But ii was a worse trouble than before, had shock ed hiS prOUd, Sensitive ft cling .evtirely. His goods and accounts, after all had been given up, wern not sufficient to pay lhe claims against him. He was, therefore, an insol vent debtor. As fairy castles fade away under the ma gician's much, so faded away at (his event, i lie glowing ideas of wealth and splendor ihat had passed so temptingly before thee of Henry Grant. He did not now ask for his tens of thousands, his country-seats, glit tering equipages, und all the splendid para phernalia attendant upon his high station in society, united with immense wealth To have possessed the few thousands of dollars mat were exhibited as deficits in his accounts, would have compassed his dearest wishes. But even this humble and honorable desire was not granted. He was in debt, and what was worse, with a sense of helplessness and hopelessness added thereto. In due couise of time, his business was settled up, and he again thrown upon the world. While debating in his mind the pro priety of accepting an offer from his old em ployer, and enter his store as a cleik, pro positions were made to him from an individ ual to accept a share in his business. He did so without consultation with any friend. The result was unfavorable. Scarcely a t I li 7 m K year hud elapsed, ueiore crasn went tue whole concern about his ears. It was under the disheartening tffects of this last disa-ter, that we have seen him laboring. How far he had just cause of de spondency, or just cause to suppose that the fates were against him, the reader will be likely to determine more wisely than he was able to do himself. Don't be discouraged, Henry ! said his old employer to him a few days after ihe conversation between the young man and Mr. Linton. 4 Vou ore young yet. I was thirty-four when I commenced my present business, and you are but twenty seven. You have seven years, therefore, in your favor. BjI I am in debt.' 'How much V Five thousand dollars. Or, if I am to be held liable for mv late partner's obligations, thirtv thousand. But I be i O W tl t . - J - 1 i: . i. n.yma 1 1 1 imt rdmn.nMinsl rm. IIHVB IIIUSC tiniiiu - When I entered into the copartnership, I happened to be wise enough to have a clause inserted in the agreement protecting me from ail prior obligations of my new associate in business.' And well for you it is that you did so. Five thousand dollars, then, is all you owe. For your comfort, I will tell you, that, at your age, from imprudences similar to your own, I was ten thousand dollars in debt.' 4 And remained so for seven years V Yes, and for more than that. It was ten years before I was able to wipe off old scores. O dear ! 1 should die if I thought it would be ten years before 1 could write my self free from debt. 1 1 is not so easy a matter to die as you might think, the merchant replied, smiling. But, what am I to do?' asked Grant, in real distress of mind. ' Do T Why, there are many ways to do. All that is wanted is patience and resolu lion : not mere excitement, you have had enough of that. rou felt, six years ago, as if you had the world in a sling. I saw it all, and knew where it would all end.' Why did not you tell me so?' Because you would not have believed me. And, besides, bought wit is hest.' No (experience like a man s own ! A lsw years -appointment and trouble I saw would be necessary to thra.h off the chaff of your character.' J k A J u pretty well threshed I have been . - o come back to the one ques non eer onnermoqt In mv minA Wi.. I to doV u' ",ai H,u There is one thing you can do, Harry, replied the merchant, 4 and that is to come into my ?,o.e and receive a salary of twelve hundred dollars a year.' My heart thanks you for your kind of fer, replied the young man earnestly. But to do so, would be to act from a mere selfish regard to my own interest.' How so"?' The salary of a clerk will y ield simply a support ; it cannot pay off my debts.' 4 You wish, then, to go again into bust ness ? 4 I must do something to relieve myself from debt.' 4 I do not see, as things now are, that go ing into business will accomplish this very desirable object. So far, business has only (ended lo involve you deeper. I know that, and it is because of this, that I am so tenibly disheartened.' 4 Then come into my store, and devote yourself for a year or so to my business. It will yield ou a living. By that time some thing may open before you. It is time enough yet, depend upon it. for you to enter the arena of strife, as a merchant. The posi lion is one requiring a cooler head and more experience than you are yet possessed of. 1 have long since been satisfied from ex tensive observation, that, as a general rule, nine men out of ten fail, who enter into bu siness as meichants, under ihitty years of age At last, hut with some reluctance, Henry Grant fell back into his old place as clerk, where he remained for four years. During that pei tod, early painful experiences form ed in his mind a true frame of thought. He was enabled lo see how and where he had been in error, and how wrong ends had led him to impiudent acts. He could not, at times, help smiling as a recollection of form er states came up, in which it seemed to him that he h d but to lift his hand and gather in wealth to any extent Then he was elo quent on principles of architectural tasie, and could descant wisely upon rural beauties, enhanced by liberal art. Nowhere could he find a mansion either in the city or rouniry, that fully came up to his ideas of what a rich man s dwelling should be. But a spirit far more subdued had now came over him. He could go up into higher regions of his mind, and see there in existence principles whose pure delights flowed not from the mere grati fication of selfish and sensual pleasure. He was made deeply conscious, thai even with all the wealth, and all the external things which wealth could give, for the gratifica tion of the senses, and for the pampering of selfishness and pride, he could not be happy. That happiness must flow fiom an internal state. A few years passed, and Mr. Linton found Henry Grant a sober-minded merchant, steadily and wisely pursuing his business, and worth every cent of fifty thousand dol lars. 'The fates have at least grown propitious,' remarked old Mr. Linton to him one day with a look and tone that was understood. I have only become a wiser man, I pre sume, and therefore betler able to bear an improved condition, was the teply of Mr. Grant. Then you do net now regret your early disappointment V ' O, no. I am truly thankful that I was not suffered to asquire wealth while under the influence of my vain, weak and foolish ideas. My reverses were blessings in dis guise. They were sent as correctors of evil. 4 That you can now see clearly. O yes. Had I been allowed lo go on successfully, trtasuring up wealth, I should have ben made miserable. My weak de sires would havo been ever in advance of my abilities. I should have .envied those who w re able to make a more imposing appearance than myself, and despised all who were below me. And, surely in this life, I can imagine no state so truly unhappy as that. He is the wise man, returned Mr. Lin ion, wno thus, irom seeming evil cuuees good. The longer we live, and the more of the ups and downs of life we see, the strong er becomes our conviction thai there is one above all, and wiser lhan all, who rules events for our good. Between ihe ages of twen'y one and thirty are usually crowded more disappointments and discouraging circum stances more trials and pains than in all a man's after life. Will any one who has passed forty tell you in his sober reflective moments that he cannot look back and see thai these have all worked together for his good? I think not. And this will be the case as well with him who has grown rich as with him who still toils early and late for his daily bread.' There is then, you believe, an overruling Providence that has reference to a man's ex ternal condition in the world permitting one to grow rich, and keeping another pooi? I do. And all this regards his eternal, and not his mere temporal condition. Our mistake lies in estimating the dealings of Divine Providence as referring particularly to our external condition. This is not the case. We are regarded with a love that looks to our higher and betler interests to our spiritual and eternal good. External things, because it is by these ihat we are most affected, are so governed, as toead us to think cf inferior things that apnertaja to the life within to that life which ire are to live when separated from the body. It mat ters not how blindly we are pursuing a course in which we are determined to succeed the Great Ruler and Governor of all things will obstruct our way, if that way leads to our spiritual destruction, and it is possible to turn us into a better way. Too often it hap pens ihat men are allowed to go on in evil courses, because, if turned from them, they would pursue after more direful, soul de stroying evils.' If this lesson could only be received by us, and fully believed when we first enter upon life, how many bitter hours of dis couragement it would save us.' reulied Mr. Grant with feeling. but experience is the onlv sure teacher. We only know what we have lived. TAKING THE CENSUS IN ALABAMA. BF A " CHICKEN MAJt' OP 1840. Our next adventure was decidedly a dan gerous one. Wording the lallapoosa riter, wheie its bed is extremely uneven, being formed of masses of rock full of fissures and covered with slimy green moss, when about two-thirds of the way across, we were hail ed by Sol Todd from the bank we were ap proaching. We stopped to hear him more distinctly. 44 Hellow I liitle 'squire, you a chicken hunting to-day V Being answered afGi matively , he con tinued 44 You beltei mind the holes in them ere rocks if your noise's foot gits ketched in 'em you'll never get it out. You see that big black rock down to your right 1 Well, there's good bottom down below that. Strike down that, outside that little riffl and now cut right into mat smooth water and come across F' We followed Sol's direction to the letter and plunging in ihe smooth wattr wo found it to be a basin surrounded with steep ledges of rock and deep enough to swim the horse we rode. Round and round tho poor old black toiled without finding any place at which he could effect a landing, so precip itous were the sides. Sol occasionally ask ed us 44 if the bottom was'nt firstrate." but did nothing to help us. At length we scrambled out, wet and chilled to the bone for it was a sharp September morning and continued our journey not a little annoy ed by the boisterous, roaring laughter of lhe said Solomon, at our pictutesque appearance. We had'nt more than got out of hearing of Sol's cachinatory explosions, before we met one of his neighbors who gave us to understand that the ducking we had just re ceived, was but the fulfilment of a threat of Sol's to make the 'chicken man' take swim in ihe Buck Hole. He had heard of our stopping on the opposite side of tho riv er, the night previous, and learning our in ici.tion to ford just where R6 did, fixed him- sett on the bank lo ensure our finding (he i way into the Buck Hole.' I his information brought our nan riht up, and requesting Bill Splawn to stay where he was till we returned, we galloped back to Sol's and found ihat worthy, rod on shoul der, ready to leave on a fishing excursion. 14 Sol, old fellow," said we. " that was a most unfortunate lunge I made into ihat hole in he river Ivo lost $25 in specie out of my coat pocket, and Vm certain it's i that hole, for I fell my pocket get light while I was scuffling about in then-. The mono) was tied up light in a buckskin pouch, and I must get you to help me t j get it." This, of course, was a regular old-fashioned lie, as we had not seen (h it amount of cash mentioned as lost, in a 4 coon's age. It took, however, pretly well, and Sol con cluded, as it was a pretty cold spell of wea ther for the season and the water was almost like ice, th t half the coments of the buck skin pouch would be jusi aboui fair for re covering it.'V After some chaffering we a greed that Sol should dive for ihe money on shares,' and we went down with him to (he river, to point out the precise spot at which our pocket ' grew light. We did so wiih anxious exactness, and Sol soon denuded himself and went under the water in (he 4 Buck Hole, 4 like a shuffler duck with his wing broke. Puff! puff! as he rose to the surface. Got it Sol ? No dang it, here goes again and Sol disappeared a second lime. Puff ! puff! and a considerable rattle of teeth as Sol once more rose into ' upper air 4 What luck, old horse t By jings I felt it that time, but some how it slid out of mv fingers." Down went Sol again, and up he came after the lapse of a minute, still without the pouch. Are you right sure. "quire, that you lost it in tins note saia ooi, getting out upon a large rock, while the chattering of his teeth divided his words in to rather more than their legitimate number of syllables. 4 Oh perfectly certain Sol, per fectly certain. You know $25 in h-rd dol lars weigh a pound or two. I did'nt mention the circumstance when I first came out of the river because I was so scared and confu sed that I did'nt rf member it But I know just as well when the pouch broke through mv coat pocket, as can be I Thus re-assured, Sol took to the water again and as we were in a hurry, we request ed him to bring the pouch and half the mo ney to Dadeville, if his diving should prove successful. to be sure I will," said he and his blue lips quivered with cold and his whole frame shook from the same cause. The " river ager" made Sol shake worse than that, that Fall ! But we left him diving for the pouch in dustriously, ond no doubt he would have got it if it had baca tbsre ! Once, as we were about lo feare a ftooso at which we had put up, the night previous, one of the girls a buxom one of twenty followed us to ihe fence, cod tha foUuwing tttt a tttt ensued : . . Now squire they say you koow, and I want to tell me, " you pltattxihtxl will chickens be worth this fall t' How many have you I' The rise of seventy, and three hens a settinl' Well now, Miss Betsy,' f&id we, 'you know how much I set by the old man your daddy and the old lady, you know howsAc and mc always got along and Jim and Dave, you know we was always lik brothers and yourself. Miss Betsy, I consider my par ticular friend and as its you I'll tell you I Do '.quire, efyou please ; they say Van Buren's g.iing to feed his big army on fowls ; and some folks' s y he's going to take 'em without payin fr 'em, and Some say be aint and I thought in course ef he did pay lor 'em, the price tovuld rise 1' ' Well, the fact is but don't say nothing about it ihe army is to be fed on fowls ; the roosters will be given to the officers to make a . em Uiate, and lhe hens to the common sol diers, because, you see, they aint as good.' lo course I 4 So you see, the henS, will be worth about three bits, and the roosters a half a dollar, and ready sale at that.' She was perfectly delighted, and wo do not hesitate to sav. would have rewarded tis with a kiss, if we had asked it ; but in these days, modesty was the bright trait in our character. t As it was. she onlv insisted Uti our taking 4a bit of something cold id our saddle bags, in case we should teach town too late for dinner. LOUIS PHILIPPE. Kino of tue French. We e indebted lo the "PictUresnua 1 London Annual' of the present year for the following interesting notice of this gtcat man : Norfolk tier aid, Louis Philippe has the twofold instinct of (he gentleman and the Parisian ciiizen, the grandson of St. Louis, and the King of the revolution of July. His life is grave, industrious, and serious. He often rises be fore daybreak ; as soon as he awakes his wotk begins. He reads the despatches of his ambassadors, and prepares the tub.ur of the day, and acts" as from a knowledge of the importance of one additional day in his reign. He reads very few newspaper?, ex cept the English ones. His broikfast is soon finished, after which it is his mmisiers turn : ,with these he lives in the greatest familiarity. The man whom he adopts, has at onco, at all times, admission lo the King : he is received at any hour of the day or night. The King espouses the cause of tho minister as he would his own , he takes an interest in his success in the rostrum, in his 0 - - success ot every kind: he defends him warmly and sincerely, and when ho is obli. ged to displace hinij he never s-ys adieu and ait revoir. Hid familiarity is at once dignified and frank. His good Sense is ex- quisite, even its severity, is tempered by a ;race only Id he found in him. Ho detests the smoke of tobacco, and thinks tti.it in a royal chateau the srhell of it is abominable; but as every one Sriiokes at the present day, he has found a way of co-i plaining of it which offends no one. In the numcus reunions of ihe TuillerieS, when business prospers, when his ministry is safe for a few weeks, the King is a happy man. He has natural love for all superior men, of what ever kind ; he seeks them ; he draws mem to himself; he is never at a loss. His speech is easy, his memory prompt ; be las been tried by good and bad fortune : a rrince of the blood,' a Soldier, an outlaw, an exile, a schoolmaster, a king he had been on a level with all ihese various conditions. Above all, this man, so surrounded with la boms, shines as the father of a family. His peculiar province seems lo be, to brinp up, instruct, and enrich his children, lie fully understands that a large family in our, dys is, for princes, the most excellent, the least ruinous, and the most easily pardoned of all usuries. At present he has no less than four sons, the pride and support of his throne. These are the t)c de NenMurs,.the Prioco de Joinville, the Due d Aumale, and the Due do Montpensier. They have all been brought up at college, among other children of their age. They followed the same courses, contended for the same prizes, and of these prizes so envied and so disputed, they have had their share, but not wiih .ut great difficulty and hard study. All these , children Iuve been, for lhe King, a delight ful subject of paternal diligence and Zeal;, he has followed them step by step in their studies ;.he has directed them one after the other , these children have been his joy and pride; he has foved them, at the time time with passion and prudence.' Those who are dead, he has mourned in such a way as to draw tears from the most insensible. Amidst these unexpected griefs, lhe death ' of the Princess Marie,' io the bloom ot her . youth and beauty, and just as she had achieved the renown to which her creat , talents as a sculptress fairly entitled her ; the death of his on, the Duke of Orleans, the heir to tha throne, in the glory of man hood, the courage of the King has not foiled hiin. By the side of the King, looking like the guardian angel of this royal family, is the 4 Queen ; a modest, amiable clever woman,' 1 who has contributed not a little to the popu
The Newbernian, and North Carolina Advocate (New Bern, N.C.)
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