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 -