North Carolina Newspapers

    ChVlS H. ' WILEY,
A F A M ITY K E-W S P A PEE
IF POLITICS.
EDITORS.
I' i TWO TrT.T.A"R,S
I). UUUn.f .
livTTKrroN
WADDELL, .JK-,
' ' ; '--J
'Vf,
cimtrtr to all tjje gtttmste of ortj Carolina, trtaftmv
' is- V- ,
m ni -io. 9.
HA LEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, SATURDA1V FEB. 4, 1854.
WHOLE 101 113i
--NEUTRAL
SELECT POETRY.
COMMON SENSE.
' She ca,ne amoilS tne gathering crowd,
maiden fair, without pretence, ,
And whet) they asked her humble name,
She whispered mildly, " Common Sense."
Her modest garryejJ
; 'Ilerample cloaer sb pes Qfleather ;
: And ; when theyn'eered, she simply said,
.'I dres according to the weather."
Tliev argued long, and reasoned laud
In dubious Hindoo phrase mysterious,
"While she(poor child,' could not divine
Why -girls so' young should be so serious.
They knew the length of Plato's beard,
And how the scholars wrote in Saturn ;
She .studied authors not so deep, :
And took the Bible" for her pattern.
And soVhe said, "Excuse me friends,
1 find all have, their proper places,
And Common Serise should stay at home
With cheerful hearts and smiling faces."
SELECTEH' STORY.
INVEIGLING A LIVE BARONET.
J - AN" INCIDENT AT BOLLOGNE. '
The cust'oin wlVich fasliiona'ble Englislimen have
of flying to the coast of France, when debts and
the like mishaps render their own country some
what too hot' to hold them comfortably, causes
Boulogne and other towns, formingJ,he chief pla
ces of rendezvous on such occasions, to present, for
the.-most part, a strangely assorted society, and to
witness, at times, very curious scenes. We do not
precisely ask our readers to believe the following
romantic story in all its details, though there is no
ticing very, improbable in any part of them.
Sir George Tiiidal was a young baronet of ofood
English. family, who came to Boulogne some years
ago under rather peculiar circumstances. Heliad
been left very young with command of a good pat
rimonial estate, but had given way so far to the
fashionable follies of ilia vnnnorin hba-h as ix
allow nearly the whole of it, to fly away on the
tuvf as fast as rice-horses cpuld carry it. ''.He had
'still good expectations, hoei-. A maternal rel
ative. mei chant, ana one' of the richest in- the me
tvpolis, was likely, in the due course of things, to
leave Sir George his fortune, as his nearest heir.
lie was fond of the young man, but had been
greatly and perilously alienated by the conduct and
reverses of tins latter. It was wnue meaiiaung on
this subject that an idea struck the nearly ruined
baronet; " " How' successful," thought he, '"liiy
uncle has been by his j speculations in the funds !
Might not -I have a chance this way also ? Might
not I cast mv poor remnant of means - into! that
great lottery, and pull out a prize I I may as well
try it,-as-all. that I have how is 'scarcely worth
thinking" twice about. I shall try at leait."
Poor Sir George ! He forgot that though some
seas may be leop, there are others which cannot
be sounded at all ; that liowever deep one may be
in the mire, there is a chance of getting deeper; He
did venture his all in, the stocks'. He was successful
once, and cVen twice. Gelling inspirited by his good
fortune,; he thought he. had but to venture further
ami win more. Alas! he was a novice. merely, in
the hands of veteran gamblers. Some of the very
worst members of the body wh.f speculate in these
matters, got hi in into their band-; and knowing
well, what his expectations were.and whore-'tlifv
lay, they led him onby a nibble or two, until, by
a -series;, of ruses, 'considered not 'hi famous only on
such a field of transactions, they at length got him
placed under a load of. debt which even all his un
cle's means, would -with difficulty lighten. Hold
i; g i,;m. bound by signatures and bonds, they then
v -1 coolly for' his accessions to his prospective
itheritaiice, knowing well that the same " prospect
would keep their victim also within reach of their
grasp at any tune. ' '
Sir George wandered about town for some
months: after these mixhaps, like a man w.ith a
rope around hi.s neck. During that time he had
many reasonings with himself on an important
point. This point, affected his whole prospeeti- e
wrtun.es. - .The young baronet wasnaturally pos
esedof good sewse -. : hevas well educated, and it
may be said that his heart was" good, and -his in
tentions fair, towanls all men, under ordinary cir
eumitauces ; but his course of,' lite, and the associ
ations he had formed, had relaxed his moral prin
ciples. : This acquired defect came now into play.
The point which he. cmvassed with himself was.
whether or not, alter having most distinctly ascer-
u'.neu tnat lie hud been the dupe of Ins creditors,
Lis engagements with ibem were binding. Upon
him. His goud s,mjsc said yes, for they had acted
with the law ; his sense of honor said the same,
wr they had his bond ; - but thefl," said other in
ternal arguers, --" they got these by base means, and
they have 'not lost a shilling by me. The article
exp:ruhce was what 'my folly bought from them at
the price of a fair fortune, and with it came no
penny out of their -pockets. Besides, if I pay these
flarpies, I shall lie; beggared." The end of the
hole was, that the uncle of Sir George died ; the
young baronet was left heir: and within a few
'ours almost after being put in possession of his
fortune, .fvhich was the portable one of an old mon
itd. uoarder, thej young baronet -was on-his' way
yth it, to Boulogne, The creditors stormed 'and
vowed revenge; but they at first bnew not whither
h might fly, and there are great difficulties at-
tending the recovery of money from creditors' on
the continent in any case. ! 1 '
Sir Georgefixed himself in a small country
house near Boulogne: He had been able to carry
thither a sufficiency for permanent maintenance
above 20,000, nearly the anient of his funded
embarrassments, after what he: called "fair debts"
were privately settled. He lived for some time in
ts'l!tJ fcetluSlOfl,"omj 'oclaaiaTypelnn1r
lie. The society which he 'then met was not of a
character to trouble itself much about what be had
done, or was doing, or was about to do, so long as
he maintained a fashionable appearance and a
gentlemanly deportment. Sp SiHGeorge led a ve
ry quiet and undisturbed existence for a long time,
always excepting some little twinges from a sense of
violated honor, until love, the universal busy-body,
came in the way to overthrow the runaway's re
pose. A lady made her appearance in Boulogne,
bearing the name and style of the Barqness d'Esti
val. Report said that she was an English woman
by birth, and the widow, of a- foreign noble'; and
she was young, beautiful, and reputed rich. Ere
long, such attractions brought all the danglers of
dangling Boulogne into subjection to the baroness,
and, among the rest, our baronet saw and admired
the lady. For a time, however, he was undisturb
ed by her, nor did he make any marked advances
on his own part. An accident brought round an
eclaircissement; By a peculiaj-piece of awkward
ness, as it seemed, on the part of her servant, the
caleche of the baroness was nearly overturned near
Sir George's door. The young baronet sprang
out ; and the Jady appearing faint and terrified, he
entreated her to alight for a few moments. She
complied. It was the hour ) of lunch, and they
lunched together. Sir George begged her to view
his garden, and they walked together. Whenthe
lady was at last about to dep&rt, Sir George beg
ged leave to take the reins out of the hands of the
awkward servant, and escort her home in person.
The result of all was, that the baronet became an
established visitant of the baroness; and having
declared hjs passion, received an answer which left i;
him much to hope, while at the same time it prom
ised nothing positive. i
the fair baroness without discovering that she had
one remarkable and somewhat eccentric taste : she
was distractedly fond of angling a perfect female
Walton. She had hired for the season a large
yawl, something between a- fishing-boat and a
yacht, and every morning, when the weather was
I good, she rose with the sun to amuse herself off
tbe coast wkb the rod
" I cannot comprehend the pleasure you take in
this occupation," said Sir George to her one day.
" It is a charming recreation," answered she, gai-
y ; " and, besides, my physicians have recommend
ed me to take as much air and exercise at sea as,
possible. I acquired the5 taste through this cause. ,
It is sometimes dull, to be sure, for the sailors. and 5
my servants are no company ; but I have been
pressed by a certain gallant major,, and a certain
warlike colonel, to permit them, to bear me com
pany, and I think I must really consent some day."
How could a lover forbear to entreat permission
to occupy the place of these rival suitors ? Sir
,George could not. He begged and sued, and the
fair lady gave her consent that he should accom
pany her next morning on one of her odd excur
sions to sea. . ,
The day proved beautiful, and the pair went
aboard at sunrise. They sailed, however, tar out
to sea, and along the coast, e're any desire for fish
ing was shown by the lady! The water was not:
favorable, she said, at one place, and then she de
clared that she had no fancy on this morning for
the exercise. Sir George was rather pleased with
this disinclination, which was owing, he flattered
himself, to her being absorbed byT his own conver
sation ':, and she, on her part,! seemed only to think
of charming him by sweet discourse. . At length
a slight shower fell, and the baroness asked her
lover to enter a small rude cabin, where a glass of
wine and cake were offered; to him. Here the
pair sat, hour after hour, the; lady enchanting her
lover with talk that caused tim to forget all but
her present self. At length, he pulled out his
watch and started up. " TyTiat," cried he, " the
day is far advanced, and I don't think they have
ever put about !" The wind, too, was blowing
nearly direct from the coastj " Come, madam, if
you fish at all to-day, it is surely time to be-
o-m.
The answer startled the poor baronet. " I have '
angled," said she quietly ; " and, what is more, I
have caught my fish."
" What mean you ?" cried jSir George. " What
fish have you caught ?"
" Twenty thousand pounds !" answered the lady
with coolness. Sir 'George grew pale, and step
ped hurriedly on deck.
" Distraction !" cried he, as soon as he had look
ed around. " Put about instantly, pilot, that is
Margate ! we are off England."
" Exactly so, Sir George," said the lady at his
back. He turned round and looked at her.
" Your purpose, then is to take me" r
" To London, Sir George," said the lady, inter
rupting him with calmness, though a gratified Jlush
was on her cheek. Sir George turned to the sail
ors. "My purse!" said he. ' f Tweuty-five louis for
you, if you put about for Boulogne !"
"Twenty-five louis !" said the lady disdainfully,
"when twenty thousand pounds are in the other
scale?" -
" Barbarous, treacherous woman 1n cried the in i
furiated baronet, as he looked around with an eye
that threatened peril to all, if he had but the means
to inflict it : but the baroness gave a sigsal, and
in an instant his arms were pinned to his side by
two pair of brawny irms.; The baronet struggled
but in vain ; a cbrdj was produced, and he was
omy saved rrom tne ignominy ot being bound, by
grvmgvms-assuTahce that M would remain in
quiet
durance in the cabin. It seemed to him that he
had nothing for it but to submit. "
Sir George, reduced to this condition, looked
with indignation at his captor. She had checked
the sailors for harshness in their usage of him, but
otherwise she expressed no visible emotion. " Be
trayed by you!" said the captive, "you whom I
loved so much !"
" You loved me ?"
" Yes !" well you knew it !" answered Sir George.
" Since you are an adventuress, cruel woman,
would not my whole fortune, with my hand, have
better paid you than a miserable hire !" The lady
spoke not in reply, and Sir George also held a
scornful silence from that moment until he landed
in the Thames. He was here put into the hands
of the sailors, and conducted to a hotel on4 giving
his solemn promise that he would not attempt to
escape. Believing all to be lost in any case, he
was-lad to be .relieved from the confinement of a
jail, though it might be but till his creditors were
warned of his capture.
It was night when the landing in the Thames
took place. ' Sir George spent a wretched night,
moaning over that fate which his conscience told
him was not unmerited. In the mornjng he drew
up an act, briefly giving up all to his creditors.
He had scarcely finished this when a visitor was
announced. Tt was his betrayer, the baroness.
. " Wretched woman ! what seek you ?" said he
sternly. " Is not your task done ? I have now to
do with others?"
" With none but me," said the lady, in a low
voice, and with a timidity of manner most unlike
her previous deportment.
" What do you mean, madam ?" asked Sir
George.
she placed in his hands some papers whicnTie at
UI 1. ...V; - . 1 1, 1.1 . J
once saw to be his own redeemed bonds. He
ooked up in amazement.
" You had a cousin once, Sir George," said the
ady, with her eyes on the floor.
" I had Anne Fulton," said he, " we were play
mates in childhood."
" She went abroad, when a child, with her fa
mily ?" continued the lady.
" She did," said the baronet ; " and I have heard,
was married to a very wealthy planter in the is
land where they settled. It pained me to hear it,
for we loved each other even when infants."
" She wedded against her will," continued the
lady ; " for she, too, remembered old days. She is
now a widow."
A light had been gradually breaking upon Sir
George's mind. He started hastily forward, and
took hold of the lady's hand, almost throwing
-himself at her feet.
" You are : " f
" I am your cousin Anne," said the lady.
It is needless to carry our tale beyond the point
when the imagination of the reader can do all
that remains to be done. The lady had returned
to England, a rich widow ; had learned the situa
tion and embarrassments of her well-remembered
cousin ; had seen him at Boulogue ; had contriv
ed the overturn at his door, and made his acquaint
ance. She had only thought of the fishino scheme
through a spice of romance in her temperament,
and that she might get him to England, where
she might have his debts paicL They wedded,
and lived happily, like all lovers in stories ; and
we wish all were as true as the present one.
Public Spirited Incendiaries. A strange af
fair, says the Cologne Gazette, has just been sub
mitted to the Criminal Tribunal of Gleiwitz, in
Sdesia, in Prussia. The little town of Berun pos
sessed a title kiln and dependencies which produ
ced almost nothing. Its municipal council wish
ing to get rid of them on the most advantageous
terms possible,' held a secret meeting to deliberate
what should be done with them. In that meeting,
it-was resolved, that as the buildings were insured,
they should be burned", down ; and one of the
members of the council was charged to set them
on fire. He executed his commission, and the
buildings were entirely destroyed. The municipal
council then demanded an indemnity from the in
surance company ; it wes paid, and every farthing
of it was placed in the municipal treasury. The
matter, however,though kept secret,became known,
and the law authorities caused all the counsellors
to be prosecuted for arson. The tribunal condemn
ed them to periods of imprisonment varying from
six months to a year, and to reimburse the insur
ance money without interest thereon ; also to pay
all the costs.
One of the happiest hymeneal epigrams that we
ever remember, is the following upon a late mar
riage : 4 Married, in Pine Grove, Alabama, Mr.
Jonas Pillow to Miss Sarah Scripture, both of that
place.
Some keep the Scripture for a show
Lettered arid gilt, on the bureau
And some to dust and moths degrade it :
But Jonas took the wiser part
He pressed the Scripture to his hcart--
And even on his Pillow laid it!"
. H15PFI TIlH-EflllS :
lKliJJUUlJJJiliUiJUUU.; '
, . ,
The BELL-IiiscER. t An habitant of the mad
house at Zurich, jvho was rather afflicted by imbe
cility than by ju idness, ..was allowed his liberty,'
which' he ne or iSiisusel. JI is happiness was con--"
fined solely '.t vV"iging the bells of: the parish
church. '". -i. liutrherr he 'grew" ohi,heth1erhe"was'
really less capable of filling this august function,
or whether-the jealousies and intrigues that reign
in republics penetrate even their hospitals, the poor
creature was deprived of his employment. This
stroke plunged him int? the utmost despair, but
without making ! any complaints he sought the
master of the great works, and said to him, with
that sublime tranquility which is inspired by a de.
termined resolution : "I come, sir, to ask a favor
of you. I used to ring the bells, it was the only
thing in the world in which I could make myself
useful, and they will not let me do it any longer.
Do me the pleasure, then, of cutting off my head ;
I cannot do it myself, or I would spare you the
trouble;' At the same time he placed himself ii.
an attitude to receive the favor he solicited. The
magistrate to whom this scene was related was ex
tremely touched by it, and determined to recom
pense the desire of being useful, even in the lowest
of the citizens. The man was re-estabiished in his
former honors, some- assistance only was rendered
him in case it should be wanted, and he died rins:
ing the bells. Bizarre.
"Good Morning." Everybody says "good
morning" in New York till after dinner. The
higher the circle a man moves in, the later he dines,
and the longer lie says "good morning."
The salutation is a sort of sliding scale of peo
ple's precise position ; the lower it runs, the higher
he stands. The man w ho says " good morning "
to you at exactly one minute past twelve, City Hall
time, is down to 0 zero.
works for a living ;
he foots it down town, mbrn-
ings, and carrieshis dinner in a small tin pail with
a young tin pail inverted upon the top of it. The
sun reports himself not more regularly at the meri-
lneres anctjuer thf tLhda you "good morning,'
and all the bells, little and big, have tolled, struck,
and rung two o'clock. He's " well to do " and
well fed and dines at half past steps gently
into the omnibus fare six cents and is set down
somewhere, to walk gently a few steps, and in a
chair with arms and cushions, meditatingly minis
ters to the " inner man."
There comes one at six full past, who says "good
morning " still. He's tip to 212 degrees on the
scale the very boiling point of respectability.
And there, on the curb stone side of the walk,
steals a poor wretch, who for the matter of dining
is not'on the scale at all He never dines; he could
say " good morning " all day long, were there any
such thing in his Almanac, or any "inquiry " for
beggars' wishes. The thermometer doesn't go up
into his circle ; the tube isn't long enough ; water
vaporizes before it gets there, as at seven P. M., he
stands at one of the Park Gates, hat in hand for a
copper, and murmurs as you scowl at him, an hum
ble, deprecatory "good mousing." Ar.. Tri
bune. . ft
Aristocracy below Stairs. Do you see that
character trundling a cart before him, tricked out
with sleigh-bells, tea-bells and cow-bells, like a
king's jester ? Have. you ever taken an inventory,
of "the goods and chattels" in that cart ? What
treasures of old shos, what variety of rags, what
abundance of waste paper !
The owner of all and sundry is an aristocrat, and
who would dream it ? No common rag-gatherer
is he with his cart, his bells and his tattered coat.
He is a speculator, " an operator " in his way, that
Wall street need not be ashamed of."
See, he has no "hook." You never cat6h him
raking like a duck in the gutters, nor turning over
matted heaps of indescribable trash, nor rummag
ing old barrels not he ; but on he goes upon his
diurnal rounds, in the proud consciousness that a
score or two of people look up to him and " do him
reverence." Tjie men,women and children, with
the hooks, the bags and the baskets, dispose of
their findings to this capitalist, and how he likes,
sometimes, to bring down the prices. He met one
of the commonality on the corner, just now. He
brought his cart to an anchor with a most appal
ling jingle. There was an air of meekness on the
one side, and conscious superiority on the other.
" We pay but a cent now," said he, decidedly, put
ting an end to the conversation. " We " like an
editor or an emperor, for all the world ! We ? Of
course. Are there not three of them himself, his
cart, and his dignity ? ' Only a cent !" Is it pos
sible ! How the intelligence will be disseminated
among the small fry that fall in rags!
" Well, take them," says, the picker at last, for
he must have something for his basket of filth. Our
man with' the cart knew he would come to it at
last He determined, this morning, while discus
sing his Bologna, that he would lower away on the
" fancies," and why shouldn't he ? That's the way
they do above Aim, and pray why shouldn't he
follow suit? The sale is effected, and the bells of
our aristocrat are again in commotion.
High life I ' Why, it is everywhere ; in cellar
and garret, as well as on first floors. Sometimes
the cart is a coach, the rags bills of exchange, and
the cent a" per cent. ; but what of that! - It's all
in the family. JV. Y. Tribune.
One Vacajst CHAiR.--We were talking a few
days iince with atr esteemed friend pf ours who
was reared after the good oM New England fash
ion and'withVwhora. -thanksgivrnjr. as a matter
of course, is an institution, a day of family reunion,
of domestic and social rejoicing. He is a man of
nqfcle ffympathfesnaTDlg ; hearti In. speaking of .
the comifig jrhanksgiving jday a cloud passed over
bis JeatnreB, and a tear gathered m ins eye "I
have," said he, "for many years gathered my fam
ily around me on that day. All my children have
sat with me at the annual feast, and it never oc
curred to me that it could be otherwise. We ate, .
drank and were merry, without thinking that a
change must one day come. But change has al
ready come. At our annual banquet this j-ear
there will be one vacant chair.
It was a sad thought. Sorrowful memories come
clustering around the heart at the mention of that
"one vacant chair." The pleasant features, the
happy smile, the cheerful voice of the. loved and
the lost come like a vision of sweetness from the
sorrow ul past. The pale, still face, the marble
brow, decked with the garlands of the grave, follow,
and the -eye dims with tears as the vision vanishes
away, and the palpable presence only is left of that
' one vacant chair."
And so it is, and so it. will be always. Year bv
year those that we love drop from around us.
Some are snatched away by death, going down in
the bloom of their beauty to the city of the dead.
Some swing out into the great world, and are
borne by the currents of life far away from us.
The day of annual reunion comes ; we gather
around the yearly banquet, we look for the cherish
ed faces, we listen for the loved voices ; but the
heart swells, and the big tear trembles on the eye
lids, for there, in the midst of that cherished circle,
in the very place where one who nestled fondliest
in our affections used to sit, is 'one vacant chair.'
We who sit at the head of these family feasts
should never forget that one day we shall be ab
sent from the banquet. The time will surely come
when we shall cease to occupy a place there. We
know not when the vacancy may occur, but as
surely as time rolls on, as surely as human destiny
J J r
come ; and struggle as we may, resist as we may.
as all the aggregates energies of nature may, we
must pass from among the living, and leave behind
us for the next gathering, ' one vacant chair.'
Washington and his Army." Mrs. Scofield,
wife of a lawyer, in Morristown, and grand-daughter
of a Mrs. Ford, whose name has been handed
down to us fragrant with piety, informs me that
her grand-mother used to tell her about attending
the meeting in, the orchard. On one occasion, when
the old lady was present, Washington was there
sitting in his camp-chair, brought in for the occa
sion. During the service, a woman came into the
congregation 'with a child in her arms ; Washing
ton arose from his chair, and gave it to the woman
with the child.
"Soon after I came to Morristown, in 1837, j
think, I visited my native place, and met there an
old man bowed down with age, leaning trembling
ly upon the top of his staff. His name was Cook.
In my early childhood, he had been a physician in
my father's family. As the old man met me, he
said, 'You are located in Morristown, are you?'
' Yes, sir.' ' I was there, too,' said the doctor;;,
'once I was under Washington in the army of the.
Revolution ; it was hard times then hard times..
There was a time when all our rations w ere but a
single gill of wheat a day. , Washington used to
come round and look into our tents, and he looked
so kind, and he said so tenderly, ' Men, can you
bear it?' ' YesJ General, yes, we can,1 was the re-
ply ; 11 you wisn us to act, give us me woiu, auu
we are ready.' " .
Morality and Virtue. There are two thiegs
which speak as with a voice from heaven, that He that
fills that eternal throne, must be on the side of vir
tue, and that which He befriends must finally pros
per and prevail. The first is, that the bad are
never completely happy and at ease, although pos--
sessed of everything that this world can bestow ;
and that the good are never completely miserable
although deprived of everything that this world
can take away. For there is one reflection that
will obtrude itself, and which the best would not,
and which the worst cannot dismiss ; that the time
is fast approaching to both of them, when, if they
have gained the favor of God, it matters little what
else they have lost, but if they have lost his favor,
it matters little what else they have gained. The
second argument in support of the ultimate supe
riority of virtue is this ; we are so framed and con
stituted, that the most vicious cannot but pay a
secret though unwilling homage to virtue, inas
much as the worst men cannot bring themselyes
thoroughly to esteem a bad man, although he may
be their dearest friend, nor can they thoroughly
despise a good man although he may be their bit
terest enemy. From this inward esteem of virtue,
which the noblest cherish, and which the basest
cannot expel, it follows that virtue is the only bond
of union, on which we can thoroughly depend.
Even differences of opinion on minor points, cannot
shake those combinations which have virtue for their
foundation and truth for their end. Sach friend
ships, like those of Luther and Melancthon, should
they cease to be friendships of agreement, will con-'
tinue to be friendships of alliance; approaching
each other by angular lines, when they no longe
proceed together by parallel, and meeting at last in
one common centre, the good of the cause in which
they are embarked.
ExTRAORDlifARTj GeOIOGICAI? DiSCOVXRIES.---v1
In the course of the; proceedings of the German ,
Association for the advancement of Scjefice, lately KI ;
at Tubingen, Professor Karnat. announced X that- t
Germany had coal enough -to supply herself, lifld
the Test of the world -for the next five huridred f.. J
years. ;, .The great fact; elicitediVctearing up of 5 ,'. . , ..
tne mystery, of the fossil human teeth fotmd m the . '
Swabian Alps, in strata of tliemammii&nocC
and doubts expressed as to their being human
teeth, as man was inot believed to have existed in
the time of the mammoth. Since the meetinir in
1852, a number of perfect human skulls have
been found in the same locality with teeth in
them, which discovery, if correctly reported, would
naturally lead to thje conclusion that' a race of hu
man beings was m existence cotemporaneously
with the mastodoii, and other of the larger
antediluvain animals.
While in A'tnen, we were invited to a party,
given by the Rev. Dr. Buel, an American Mission
ary, where weet the two daughters of the cele
brated Marco Bqzzarjs, and the. " Maid of Athens,'
now Mrs. Blake. The young ladies were dressed
in Greek fashion conversed fluently in English
and are every way lit representatives of the great
Suliote Chief. Title readers of Byron will lie
shocked to learn- that the " Maid of Athens," uni
ted her fortunes with an English policeMan named
Black, and is now the mother of a host of little
Blacks. This is what you might term a step from
the sublime to the ridiculous, but when she inform
ed me that Byron was in love with her mother
i
and dedicated his poetry to her when but a child,
it palliated, in some j measure, ray disappointment,
and I excused her.-! Correspondent of the Nash
ville Union. j
Too Good to be Lost. A few days since a
good old lady of; this city, meeting a farmer in
our streets, on .a load of hay, inquired if it 'was for
sale ; on being answered in the affirmative she
asked him to' turn his team around and drive to
her husband's yard,; some quarter of a mile distant.
Her request was complied with, and after reach-
I 1,' 4- ,1 1 "4-l. .-i r
"u 3 "cot' ami 110 imuw,uS 11 " sne
wouiu. ptep mio uie uouse ana get tne cnange J
The driver was ungallant enough to curse the old
lady, and the hens, and refused to retail his hay.
Portland Transcript. - !
' Not long sincej, a certain noble peer in York
shire, who is fond of boasting of his Norman des
cent, thus addressed one of his tenants, who, lie
thought, was not speaking to him with proper re.
spect : " Do you know that my ancestors came
over with William the Conqueror V- " And may
hap," retorted the; sturdy Saxon, nothing daunted,
" they found mine here when they corned." The"
noble lord felt that he had the worst of it.
Eloquent, but ; inarticulate. A little ' while
ago, we passed a half hour in a village grave yard,
reading the inscriptions on those Tables of the
Law of " dust to dust."
Upon one of them, carved in marble, was a
chain. Of the nine links composing it one was
broken.
How legible the characters! How intelligible
the language ! In that family there were nine
once a beautiful chain of affection, richer than
gold, but Death had unloossed one link, and the
broken jewelry of the hearth and the heart, had
glittered with the dews distilled from loving eyes.
, : n i a .
Table Tipping; The Bishop of Montreal has
promulgated a pastoral letter " to the secular and
regular clergy, and to the religious communities,
and to all the faithful in our ( his ) diocese, " against
the table tipping ; asking the faithful the question
if it is not evident, that u holy souls in purgatory
have something else to do than to come and joke
with their relatives and friends on the earth ! "
Pleasure is a rose near which there ever grows
the thorn of evil, jit is wisdom's work so carefully
to Cull the rose as to avoid the thorn, and let its
rich perfume exhale to heaven in grateful adora
tion of Him who. gave the rose to blow.
1 ; '-
Sterne's Unclp Toby says that one of the tricks
of women is to pretend that they have accident
ally got something in their eye, and indce a man
to look into it ; arid he says the man is sure gone
if he looks there for that something.
A hint to parents. The prison statistics, in
an educational point of view, clearly indicate that
the cause of so many being brought up before the
judge, is owing to their being so badly brought
up before they arrive at maturity.
j . t t
To complain isi to confess weakness ; and so
men conceal theiri suffering and weakness. This
makes society mpre agreeable, -but also make
life seem to the yojung easier than it is.
' '
A writer discoursing upon " practical wisdom,"
uses this figure: Mjln journeying with it we go to
wards the sun, and the shadow of our burden falls
behind us." i 2
Were it not for jthe tears that fill our eyes, what
an ocean would flood our hearts ! Were it not for
the clouds that cover our landscape, how insolent
would be our sunshine ! Simmt.
A lady was asked the other day why she chose
to live a single life, and gravely replied: 'Because
I am not able to support a husband' u . , i -
    

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