North Carolina Newspapers

J . ' " i . - If r . - KJ0cayMla SS-f ' ' ' A FAMILY NEWSPAPER-NEUTRAL IS POLITICS. ! SS ' Bcfcotcti to all tijc 8n tercets of SIjc Soutf), literature, out ation, Sericulture, fctp0, tije iWarltcts, Sc. VOL III -NO. '20. RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 1854. . ' WHOLE NO, 124. j x . "THE YEAS. blind, . ,.f ;, i Vijapt in ,.he pres.? future day ; :ivi.. ly,1 we j!d, a i glfiift-.e behind;; Anp Io! be! Yer hasp assed awav. A kcar ! ah, more. Who is there -ever knew A long, long year j o nas awky alone ? Ask parents, children, friend a mourning few And they will tell you who beside have gone. A mighty crowd the Year takes in its train ! " Princes and peasants, rich, poor, high and low ; "Faces the world will never see again ; . And all are crone where all have yet to go. ' - ' .- Spring, Summer, Autumn Winter, too have . sped ; ' lAway with Time : yet will he them restore, In his dull course ; but those who with them fled, And made them joyous, shall return no more. We'lifi our hands, and cry: "This time last ' ' . year !" And wonder at the changes each can name ; Alas! alas! naught unchanging here, And this time "next year some must say the same. This time" last year!' what a wide gulf thera . ". .. seems, - j ' Within the mind, to lie 'twixt now and then t What thoughts, what passions, feelings, actions, dreams t All past for ever ! ne'er to come again. Who, ichfi is there, whom this returning day Finds as it left him but a year ago ? Who hathnot bowed him 'neath Time's mighty "' sway, Nor grieved o'er joys that'he no more may know Perchance he strayed in some far-distant land, Where nature spread around a different scene ; With loved ones4 haply, forrned a social land, Now, far away oh, manj amile between. Perhaps capricious Fortune may have smiled, . . And strewn herfairesi favors in his way.;' While now, caressing some more favored child, She leaves him to rude poverty a prey! - - Perhaps but why the doleful strain prolong ? Fain from my soul all sadness would I cast, And carol blithely forth a joyous song ; . But 7o shall carol blithely of the Past. Love, friendship all the sacred ties tnat bind .'. Poor human hearts and hand in uuioirdear, '. A.-V-'g, eternal re-ti- gplce may find - Wi hii! that mighty sepulchre Last Year !,' ORIGINAL STORY.' ' ' For the Southern Weekly Post. - BENJAMIN FHOM HOME. . , no in. We left our cnsi.oUK't" in search. of " Mr. B.-inmm'-V and as it was not very early iu tlie lnoniiiig and he 'had eaten no brt-akfast, it is quilt- r.-iihonabl to presume that he was' " hon gry" aa'n, so hepitche'd forward with all speed, tu.n.ed up Lihi-s!ret-t and reached the " Foun tain." Ilei-f he stopped to enquire again "'ef Mri Barnum lived there." , ".No, sir," was the very polite answer, " you go upio the next street, then turn down and go till you reach the next corner, and then turn up and a few steps' will bring you to. Barnum's." '"Thankee, sir," said Benjamin, and off he toddled.' : - Before he had proceeded v ery far on his route, however, he was arrested' very politely by a vender of lottery tickets, and asked if he. did not " wish to makea fortune." Now, this was the very idea for Benjamin, for he hail always thought if he could make a snug fortune, he could walk over thwse town fellows rough shod, and they would be just "no vvhar" -in Judy's affections. Of course, then, he had not the slightest idVa' of permuting so-' tempting an op portunity as this to pass .unimproved,, and he caught, at the bait as readily as a North Caro lina " Chub," will catch at a live roach. -: "Well, I rei-kon I shouldn't have no olj tion, ..purv-ided you can show. me how I kt do it," answered our traveller. . . " Just walk in. sir," said t'te lottery man, "and I will show you in two minutes." They went into, the office 'and the oily tongue automaton continued 'his soft .saudering. . "Many a man, sir, has drawn a ..fortune in our lottery upon an "investment ;f ten to one hundr.d dollars,' and the chatieos arc ten v one in your favor : in f:ict, sir, there can scarcely be a particle' of doubt if you buy one of our tickets, that you will draw, a prize' lie paused. Benjamin was deeply interested and did not, make any reply, and a third person who was standing in. the of iice very .kindly took our hero to one side, and whispering in a low un advised' him by all mean to try his luck, "tor,'" said he, " a man ; very seldom fiiiJs. to draw a prize." -"Benjamin was fan lv in tor it, so he walked bold! v tin to the counter and drew out a ten. do!- - . j , - lar bill; and wa in the, act of, throwing it down, when all of a sudden it occurred to him that lie ought to enquire how it w.is done. " Look a here' mit r," said he, "how is this here business managed.? " Why you s-.e, sir." answered the ready ven der, "'there is a efy large amount of money to be divided anl given away, and in order that even thing may be fairly and honestly done, e:uh "man who buys a tick t comes in 'for a 1 -chance, and some of litem draw ' very large sums. The 'sumsat.iat ,e receive for tickets are put with the other, and all drawn out tog-ether; here now, i& a drawing to oouie off the first of SELECT POETRY Jt oktiit: c&SI i next month, in which-! one prize of seventy fife thousand dollars f You stand an epual chance f or that with anybody else, and there are: sever al very large prizes beside?.." " What's tickets worth ?" asked lenjatnin. The tickets in this are worth $10 each;" an answered the vender. Give me a sure one, then, mister : here's the niQney," said 'our hero throwing down the $10 bill on the couuter. i The cunning vender selected a ticket and banding it to Benjamin received the money and asking where he should send the money in. case thejicket drew a prize, told him he might "con fidently look out," (we give the fellow credit for taking no more.of Benjamin's-money.) ,In re ply Benjamin told the vender ; " You may send it too Mr. Barnum's ef it comes before you see me agin. I'm a goin' too put up there ef I ken find the place. Put a wafer in .it, mister, and seal it up ef you please." " Certainly, sir, certainly, and if you. make any stay in the city call round and see a we hall always, be happy to see you." ' Well, now, that's perlite in you, mister, but what did you say ? ef I made any what ?" " If you remain in the city, sir " " Well, mister, I'll come and; see you, ef I ken find the way, ken you tell me which way it is too Mr. Barnum's." " Go right up to Baltimoie, down ; Baltf more " " Baltimore"' said Benjamin, in perfect amaze-, ment. " Why, mister, ain't h got to Baltimore, yet?" " No, sir, the next street is Baltimore street, and then you turn down till you come to. a cross street, and there you turn up, and a few steps will bring you to Barnum's." j " Thank, ee, sir," said Benjamin, starting out, and wondering how there happened to bet so many Baltimore's, or so man y places sticking a long side of it. As he was passing down the street he was overtaken by a man who very kindly enquired where he,was going. Benjami.j unhesitatingly told him " to Mr. Barnum's," -whereupon -his companion gave him some good advice and kindly volunteered to show him the way.. Dur ing their walk ths stranger a.-ked Benjamin; rf he had a watch, and upon receiving a negative answer proposed to sell him a fiie gojd repeater for twenty-five dollars, which cost hiih one hun dred, s lie exhibited the watch, and telling Benja min that he could not sell it so low, if he was not very greatly iu ieed of money, asked the. favor of him to adow him the privilege of re deeming it at thirty dollars, oile week hence, "and,'' said he, "if I do not pay you hack 6-30 one week from this day, the watch is to be yours at the 25. My name is Jones, and I'll see you at Barnum's." ' Benjamin , looked at the watch and thought how Ire could " swell" at tiqpie, with a gold! watch in his pocket, and how it would mortify1 the town dandies to see him pulling out a gold watch to tell Judy the time o'day. He there fore drew out his " pile" and handed the other twen'iy-live dollarsand secretly determined that the fellow shouldn't find -feim any more, and therefore the watch should be his own property. He fairly chuckled to himself, at the idea of out witting the "city man," and having a "sure enough gold watch," with a hundred dol lars. - ' After proceeding a short distance our hero missed his companion and turned round to look for him. Several ladies were near him, and ho approached them and asked "Did vou see anything of Mr. Jones back there a piece, m arm." No answer, and the lady was passing on when Benjamin caught her arm and was about to re peat the question . She screamed out, and " whap," went some thing beside Benjamin's head, while be, poor fellow, found himself fiat on the pavement in a twinkling. Opening his eyes he looked up and saw two or three men standing over him, and he opened on them at once "Look a here fellows, I'm away from home, and in a strange place, but I'll be drot ef I'm a gwine to be knocked down in this Vr way, and I ken whip the man as done it, ef he'll dare to show his drotted pictter." " What do you mean, sir," said one of the bystanders, " by insulting ladies in the streets ?" " Insult ladies !" said Benjamin, " its a con sarned lie, sir. I would'nt insult nobody. I only wanted to git one o' them gals too tell me whar Mr. Jones was and she' hollered, when I did'nt havetno more harm agin her than I had agin myself, and some consarned fool stole up and hit me." Benjamin had risen to his feet and continued : "and now, sir, let the man as hit. me step up and say he done it and 1'il give him a rale North Carolina 'lectioh tannin' that he'll remember." The crowd dispersed without any more quar relling and Benjamin worked himself down in to a good humor again, and walked on but determineu to keep-out of difficulties for the future as he was in a strange place. Just then he espied something like a painted man stand- ! ing at a door just ahead of him and he stopped and took a good Iok at it, and concluding that it would not be altogether safe, to go too near it turned out into the carriage way, and walked down the middle of the street, keeping his eye intently fixed on the thing till "all of a sudden. some one cried out "wo, hold on there misten or one of us will run over the other," and look- ing round Benjamin discovered himself almost under a pair of horses, while the carriage pole J had risen so high, by their pulling back, that it I knocked off our hero's hat. Benjamin made a retrograde spring and lit just in front of the Fell's Point Omnibus, which was passing at the time, and would have,, juiiutabJyruu over and crushed him beneath its wheels, hut for the crowded state of the street just at that moment which prevented the omnibus from proceeding out of a very slow gait and thus rendering it an easy matter to come to an instantaneous halt. Benjamin picked up his hat and hanging on to his "saddle-bags," got out of the way and beg ged the first man he saw to show him the way to " Barnum's." " Yes, sir," answered the fel low who happened to be a hack driver, "just .....! .1.1.1 1 TIM .1 step in me nacK ana i it taKO you mere in a minute.". Our hero got in, the. door was closed, the dri ver mounfed the box, the omnibus started, and, almost immediately, stopped, for it was only about fifty yards from the hotel when Benja min entered it. He now got out and turning to the fellow said : " Mister, is this ere reat big house Mister Batnum's ? " " Yes, sir." . .... " Well, Mister, I'm a thousand times ableeg- ed to you, and ef you ever happens in North Carolina you must come too see, .usr mather'll be mghiyglad to see you, and I'll lake you round to see the gals. Wont you come in and take a drink." v .. . . . " No, I thank you, sir, I never .drink any thing." , - - . . "Well, good day to you, calkand se me." " You hav'nt pail your fare, sir." K. "Fare! The dickens I .hain't.. Why sir, its j-est what did. do, and J. expected nothin' else all the time the. tellers was tearin'up my receipt but what they was plottin': to .make me pay agin. Now, look a here mister, rdueem to be a purtv good sort of a feller and right clev er, and I hope you'll not jine- with, them fellers in imposin' pn a stranger, for l'll swar I paid my wav clean through - .. ........ " I'm not speaking of your railroad- fere, sit, but . your hack fare," saidlha other, ., " Hack .fare !'.' said .our. traveler, ",what in thunder's that ". ""li.KU, sir, is.w hat you owe me for bringing you to the Hot!.". . ." Fur .bringin., nj.e,. Iqq the hotel! Why, mister, it. was, riglit clever in you. to bring me, but then I did'nt think was goin' to charge me fur it as I did'nt ride tjie.4ength of my fin- .eV: 'liar ly, ho whomever,,. X wpnt bo stingy, so here's three Cp you,, may hitse." ..-. " Fifty cents, sir," said vhe other. . " Filty what.?.: v. " Ffty cents, si r.'H- - " W hat 'n thunder fur ?" , , . "Twety fiye for yourself , and twenty-five for j your bigMge. .. " Whew ' well, that does beat.. ;. Twenty-five cents for brjing a feljer ten stepsand twenty tive njorftihis baggage -but aint got'no " What is that on your. arm ?" " AVell, you is green. Wrby, mister, them's saddlebags saddlebags, not baggage. Whar ware you raised ? I thought every body knowed what saddlebags was;, and as fur the twenty five cents for me, I b'lieve I'd about as soon walk, and so ef youTl carry me back, whar you found mc I'll walk." " I must have my money, sir; if you do not pay me 1 shall take you before the Mayor." " I'd like to see you do it, and besides, sir, I ain't afraid of your mare, before nor behind, nuther, I kin bite and kick as . well as she if that's what you're up to, and I 'aint afraid of you nuther," and he started into the house, but turning round he said in a louder key, but took a here mister, I ain't done with you about insultin' me. I kin whip a whole courthouse full of sich fellers as you is, and ef I ever ketch you out of this here town I'll pay you that half a dollar in genniwine North Carolina 'lection cur rency," and shaking his fist at the fellow Ben jamin walked into the -'hotel while the other, somewhat alarmed, mounted his box and has tily put out. Benjamin walked up to the first man he saw, who was the porter, and bowing he said: "good mornin' too you Mister Barnum, how do you do and how is your wife and child'n and your mother ? I'm not a married man, but I've got a mother and she's right well I thank you." " Mr. Barnum's at the office," said the aston ished Porter. " Well, w here 'u thunder's that ?" asked Ben- j jnmin. " I nver see sich a tamal place in my life, and i; it warn't fur that seventy-five thou sand dollars, I'm too get, I'd turn rite roun' and go back home." 1 " Walk this way, sir," said the now polite Porter, and leading him to the office, the Port er called Mr. B. aside and whispered something in his earabout " seventy-five thousand dollars," which made that gentleman equally polite. Turning round the Register book, the cferk offered Benjamin a pen, but the latter thanked him and told him he "did'nt have no objection to given' souiethin' purvided 'twas fur a good thing," but he had ".swore out agin all subscrip tion?." " Your name, sir," said the Clerk bending down as if to write. "My narne's Benjamin, but you needn't put il down there, if 1 ,give anything I'll do it -when I git reddy, but I'm all fired hongry, and ain't ate a mouthful to-day." "What will you have, sir ?" " Well, I'll try a fourpenee worth of meat and collards no, I wont take collards, jest meat so, and some bread, ef that aint enongh I kin vet more. " We don't sell provisions, sir ; we charge two dollars a day for board and feed our,guests on the best we have." "Two dollars a day! WJiew, well, that does beat. Why, Mr. Barnum, you'd break a feller in a little while. I'm a long ways from home, arid aint got no great sight o' money, and I'd be mighty glad ef you could do a little better for me ; I'll stay some time ef you don't cha-ge too much." " Regular price, sir, can't deduct," said the clerk. i - " 'Spose a feller don't eat but twice a day, how then ?" " No difference, sir, he can eat if he chooses or let it alone, we charge one price to all." " Why, mister Barnum, I reckon mother'd board a feller a whole month for two dol lars." Provisions are cheap iq your neighborhood, I guess, sir." " Well I don't know as they is," " Will'you take a room, sir ?" " No, I want somethiur to eat, give me jest anything you please." Benjamin was conducted to a room where he might wash and dress himself, previous to going into i he breakfast room. A very genteel white waiter brought him a pitcher of water, and asking for his boots received them and went out, but returned in a few se conds to the 'utter astonishment of Benjamin, with the boots shilling like glass. " See here, mister," said Benjamin, " how did you do that so quick ? Why it takes me a full quarter of an hour to make em shine, and then they don't shine nothin' like that." " Patent blacking, sir, anda good brush." "Patent what?" ' " Blacking, sir 2" -: "That's hit, is it. I don't put nothin' on em at home, but giease," a'hd Benjamin commenced fumbling in his. saddlebags forclean " rigging," and the waiter left the rooin. In due time Benjamin was ready for-break-fastand he began to wonder whether he mustgo to braakfast, or wait for breakfast to come to lnm. He sat still in his. room for some time, trill final ly he concluded he would go , down and .i6ee " Mr. Bafnuro" about, it, so opening the door he walked ont. with his saddlebags on his aim Now our friend was-''not accustomed to siich " ail-fired big. houses," and he walked about for some time without being able-to find the office. At last he cdaciuded to go back to ii is room and wait tilL.sonia one came : so, retracing. .his steps he, pretty soon came to a doorprexisely like the one. he had shut on leavjngyhis room, so. without hesitation he opened it and walked in, but drew-back in a moment having discover ed a lady seated by the fire engaged in iat in teresting occupation of corabing.her long glossy hair. She was on the eve of screaming out, but our hero left so suddenly, that she did not have time, and she came to the very correct conclu sion that the intruder had only made au inno cent mistake in looking for his own room. Ben jamin, however, wa perfectly bewildered, and knew not what to do, but kept walking till, ere long, he espied a man at the further end of the co lonnade and hailed, him, but, alas, not loud enough to be heard : the man turned a corner, and when Benjamin reached the spot, was no where to be seen. Benjamin took a seat and inwardly swore if he could get out, he would go right back home. Some one just at this moment passed him, and he followed, but unfortunately for, Benjamin, the man was going the wrong way, for after pro ceeding for some time he entered a room and closed the, door, eyeing our hero very suspicious ly. Benjamin turned round and discovered another person walking in the opposite direc tion and smoking a cigar, so he concluded to follow him. lie did so, and after descending several flights of stairs, the gentleman entered a small room and closed the door. Benjamin did'nt know what to make of it, but walked on till he discovered an opening ahead of him, and sure enough it turned out to be one, and he de termined to go to the depot at once and take tbe cars. He came to another conclusion, which was, that he would ride, so he asked a man who was passing, where he could get a carriage. " Go right through this ally, sir, and you will see plenty of them on the. street." Benjamin followed the directions that were given him, and after a while struck a bargain with a hackman to carry him to the railroad for twenty-five cents. He landed there, paid the hackman and got aboard of the cars just as they were about starting. The cars wre drawn by horses about a mile, but that was soon traveled over, and then the locomotive was attached, the whistle sounded and away they went, and Benjamin felt relieved at the idea of soon again being at home. Poor fellow, it never once occurred to him that there were two railroads starting from precisely the same place, running in contrary directions, and in his case ignorance was certainly present bliss though L cannot say that wisdom would have been folly. He had reached the depot just in time to take one of the Philadelphia trains and was leaving home as fast as steam could carry him. The Conductor came round in due time totibHevt tickets. " I haint got no ticket," said Benjamin. " "Where are you going, sir ?" " Home, by jings ! I'm done with yer blas ted etarnal Baltimore where a feller can't find nothin' nor himself nuther." " Yes, sir ; but where is home ?" " I lives at Raccoon Range in North Ca'li na, and lives with mother and Caleb and -" " But, sir, you took the wrong train and ev ery turn of the -wheel is putting you farther from' home " " Thunder and lightnin' ! Well, I'm gwine back, whar's my saddlebags ?" and our hero started out, but the Conductor warned him of the danger of getting of the cars while they were in motion, and that they would soon ar rive at Philadelphia. "Filly what?" asked Benjamin in amaze ment. "Philadelphia, sir," was the reply. " And what sort of a Filly is she?" " She is a large city, sir ; but I want your fare." " My what ?" " Y'our pay for riding, it is four dollars, sir. " Gingo blazes ! Why, mister, drat my pic tur ef I knowed I was goin thar, and I did'nt want to go no way." " Well, well, I'll see you directly," saying which the good natured conductor walked on and was nearlyr out of reach when Benjamin twitching his coat tail stopped him ; " Mister,' said he, " kin you tell me what they'll charge a feller fur eatin' and slecpin' and so on, up thar whar we're goin' too, cause I'm nigh on out o' money, I kin tell you." "I'll see you directly, sir," and away he went. A future letter shall give you further account: of Benjamin's progress. ' AC THORN LY'. MISCELLANEOUS.. From the Newark Sentinel. BACHELORS. Oh, Plato ! Plato! you have paved the war With your confounded fantasies, . to more Immoral conduct by the fancied sway, "Vour system feigns o'er the controlless core :Of human hearts, than all the long arraj ; Of,ppets andjomancers. ..; :t Btbox. Perhaps Lord Byron is right, Plato and-my- self in error. Perhaps we have espoused a false philosophy, and as disciples of that great leader, are destined soon to see it universally rejected. But. a$'' yet its fallacy has heen nowhere satisfac torily exhibited neither haVe sufficient induce ments been found to tempt us to renounce the doctrines in which, as it were, we have been born and hred. I speak in behalf of the entire sect of our philosophers throughout the world, and affirm that thus we choose to live and spend our days. Our ethics have become so interwo ven with our habits, and manner of living, that it has become part of our very being, and as soon should we think to relinquish life itself, as the theories we have thus cordially embraced So;me declare our creed entirely false, and the espousers insincere : but I know not one who wotild not gladly defend his faith, and prove, if j words and arguments can prove, the firmness of ! his belief. Others pronounce the whole a whim and a delusion ; if a whim, how delightful, and if a delusion, how sweet. - Shall I give a few of the many reasons for our belief, and some of the admirable characteristics of our sect ? . Our happiness in the first place, depends im measurably on this belief, and therefore we ar led to the practice. The prime elements of earthly joys exist not so much in the great re sults as the little causes. The little things are those that mar our pleasure, and dampen all our aspirations. The little repeated anoyances injure the dis position and crush tlie spirits far more than the great strokes which surround one with a theory of sympathizing friends. In the loss of proper ty, others may share our regrets nnd minister to our wants, but in home troubles it is only given to endure with quiet meekness. A meek ness that ill becomes the noble spirit of a man, and testifies that much which is manly has been already lost. Poets are wont to sing of the sweets of con nubial bliss, and seek to win us with their gid dy measures. But many would be better enter tained should they invoke their muse to tell a bachelor's reveries. Misery loves company, and methinks not a few have found ere this, that all is not poetry that rhymes. How pleasant, when the toils of the day are over to retire to one's own room, to enjoy the companionship of those immortal minds whichj inlay his walls, each with its silent title beckon ing him to search its leaves for knowledge. How pure and elevating the society ! With the opening door, no long list of wants, ever prefaced " My Dear" no tales of faithless and insulting servants, or reproof for unfulfilled re quests greet his ear, no half a dozen little pro genies to mount his knees, and rack his weary frame, but he finds in his own retreat, a quiet and repose from the cumbering cares of this noisy and bustling world. He is lord of his own body, soul and domains. No other half, who holds a mortgage on all these, enquires, "Why do ye so ?" Believe me, men are happy when thus undisturbed they have their own way ; when they can give themselves to their own thoughts and disposition. No effeminate intruder then disturbshe meditations, or bois- trous children dissipate the half-wrought idea. Of what I have, however small it be 111 hold an undisputed sway. My books and papers, what and how many I may please, surround me. There is no one whom I fear will molest them ; no urchins from whose fingers I must save my leaves and inkstand; none, who for ooks, delights to hide my slippers, boots or ra zors. All as 1 lett are handy. 1 am my own man and not another's. I eat as I please, drink as I please, sit as I please, smoke as I please, read as I please, sleep and wake as I please. Now tell me, all ye lords of womankind, is it not much more agreeable, thus to be lord of oneself, untramelled by the apron strings ? " Connubial bliss," is but another name for Tsntalus. Great pleasure is the tempting draft it proffers, but as you extend the hand tke nec tarine cup recedes, and the grating teeth, not words, tell of the bitter disappointment. Man may forevr after rue the day he sought those joys, but in vain : he speaks it not, and finds no kindred mind to share his afflictions, save in our sect, to whom pride will not permit to go. Short bliss ! Who ever heard a man sing sweet, sweet home, after a marriage of half do zen years ? By the doctrines of our sect, man preserves his birth-right, freedom and indepen dence, y. " I don't choose to say much upon this head I'm a plain man, and in a single station ; But, oh! ye lords of ladies' intellectual Inform us truly, have they not hen-pecked you all ?" Perhaps now and then one has yoked him self to so fair and fascinating a damsel that he chooses to sacrifice to her all independence, and to be controlled by her he styles the " best of wives." 'Tis possible there may be one such ; but it would he easier to find scores of those who would most gladly free themselves from the galling yoke. It is alarming to look about and see how uni versal the fair sex reigns. You can hardly find -J one in a thousand who is wholly exempt from their dominion. Men think and talk and dress to please them ; and what do they receive ? Perchance a pretty look, a fawning smile, a kiss, a hand, perhaps a heart. And then what has he trot ? A fret a scold a call her what name you will, she looks not very nice. Each sex please the other until the nuptial knot is tied, and then they care little for their persons. It is proverbially true of woman, that she be comes too negligent of dress, and seeks much less to please her husband than her lover. The theory of Piato would prevent these evils and make life but a " wooing honev-inoon," as lovers say. - " Have they not hen-pecked you all ?" "Wo men rule us now. Let her not then seek a more despotic sceptre, leSt in taking what she cannot hold, she lose what she already has. How strange a creature is w omah ! How pretty she 1 can be if pleased ; but cross her and she is fro- ward, ill-natured andassuming; sometimes whines, at others rails ;:-now swoons away, now comes to life ; sometime is dumb, at others has a most oily tongue,' a full vocabulary of words, and powers of speech enough to drive one mad. To argue with' her all men are like Don Alfonso ' He gained no points, except Borne self-rebukes, Added to those his lady with such vigor Had poured upon him for the l5st half hour,' Quick, thick and heavy as a thunder shower." How oft she makes man sin. She asks so many questions, who could help it ? " My dear, where shall I say-you have gone ?" " "Well, tell them so and so." All true ? " But why so late to-night, my dear ?" " Oh ! husiness de tained me, love." He did not lie! Certainly not. She needed not to ask, however. Think of this, oh, ye Bachelors ! of giving ac count of all your deeds, your words and ways; think of it and weep for th4. thraldom of your fellow-men ; but rejoice the more that your lot is a freedom from babies and broomsticks, and your portion the joys if " single blessedness." The espousers of the Platonic philosophy, though they do not cairy it out to the greatest extreme, are wantonly accused of lack of gal lantry and esteem for the opposite sex. I know, however, no cause for this accusation, except it be that they suffer not themselves to be capti vated by the small ankles, the round neck and the fair cheeks of some giddy school-girl ; ex cept it be that they pledge themselves to endure the tongues of many, instead of one woman, and to be the gossipping theme for many, rather than for that one eventful year. No one, bet ter than they, appreciates the beauty of female character, form and loveliness. No one expe riences more pleasure in the society of ladies, or estimates it more highly than do they. They reckon it an accomplishment without which one's education is irrcomplete. I have seen pro fessional men, of good mind and talents, inada the butt of ridicule because of the lack of this one essential.' The Bachelor admires ladies in the concrete, other men in the abstract ; he can esteem their society in the mass, others that of only one. , Besides the characteristics of our sect, which I have endeavoured to interweave in the above re marks, we make some boast of our antiquity. Years before the Christian era saw our existence, and the present beholds us prosperous as the past. As formerly, so to-day, you will find us i all true men. Each holds an open hand to all earth's needy sons. Each has a jovial soul, free i as the mountain air, and within each bosomN beats a noble heart, large as benevolence and,: love to mankind can swell it Jay. I Socth Orange, 1854. . t 44 Honest industry is always rewarded." Then j be not slothful in any thing yott do honestly. RELICS. I Im a recent number of the Gentleman's Ma gazine, we find, an interesting article upon the subject! of relics. The article is suggested jby the fact that a few months since. Aix la Cna pelle received nearly seventy thousand pilgrips in a single day, to view a famous collection' of relics there exhibited, relics renowned alike for their sanctity and venerable antiquity. ! The writer says that the original object of relics Un doubtedly was simply (to preserve the memories of holy people, and by the enjoined veneration of fragments of their clothing, bones or hair, to increase our love towards the heroes of Ithe faith. But this sort of hone.' however harmless in its origin, soon degenerated into a regitlar system of gainful traffic. The relics were not suffered- long to remain passive memorials of mortality, but were called upon to prove their authenticity by a series of wonders greatlyjex ceeding those performed by . the saints them selves during their lives ; and it was their reputed miraculous power which constituted the standard of their value. They were made advertisements of monasteries and churches, and the source of ample revenues. Active rivalry was of course the result of this system, and if by chance any church obtained a relic of: unusual power,j ri val was sure to appear soop in its neighborhood. Even this was enough ; sometimes the posses sion of the same relic would be claimed in Seve ral diffen nt places at one'time. Itinerant friars were in the habit of wander inar about and gathering money by the ( Ihibi- tion , of relics. So singularly contorted i were heft than people's minds upon this subject that thej of a relic was considered rather honorable! otherwise, if done with the pioas purpose of enriching some other church or shrine. Ob one occasion a Franciscan monk by the name of Wintha, stole the nuptial ring of St. Joseph, at Chiusi, with the intention of bearing it jth his native country. On his road thither a sudden darkuess enveloped him, so that he coull not travel. He was struck with penitence, and! hung the ring upon a tree, and confessed his siliis be fore it, when it immediately , emitted a! great igh-t. He subsequently bestowed the risg up on the inhabitants of Perusia. A controversy then arose between the Chiusiaus and the Peru- sians as to its ownership. Tbe Perusians, al though they acknowledged it was stolen, decla red; that they respected it too much to part with it, and would defend it by force of arms. It was allowed to remain In their possession, and the body of "Wintha, the thief, was alter his death interred with the highest honors before the! tomb of St. Joseph and Mary.. I The relies of th Virgin Mary are so numer ous that a volume would be required to describe them. Every imaginable article of femaje clo thing is exhibited in divers places as sl holy re lic of the Virgin. In Rome there are now eight gowns which are regarded with special genera tion as having been worn by her. In France there ate at least a half a dozen; in Spawn two; and in other parts of Europe manyothersj which if less known, are at least equally authentic. The hair of our lady may be seen in a great . number of places : and curiously enough, almost every tress is of a different color from thejothers. It, has been said indeed that some of her hair was so fine as to be invisible ; and as a jmonk was showing this, with other relics, a peasant said . ' j ' " Reverened father, I do not see the holy hair." . fr ' I "I well believe it," replied the jmonk; "I have showed it for 20 years and have neferseen it myself." j' j I The decapitated head ofcsJohn tUg Baptist is another famous relic. In the fifth .centuryj there were two acknowledged heaoV'of the jlaptfst in Thenicle, and the Greeks instituted a fete to the two heads a convincing proof of their faith. Subsequently a head at Amiens acquired great celebrity as the true head. One of the proofs m its favor was the mark of a wound under the rieye, given by Herodias with a knife. Twelve heads in a tolerable perfect condition, can now be counted, and besides these there are; numer ous large and important fragments of the skull. There are no less than seven extra jawsj in vari oub parts of Christendom. The finger, of St. John, which was said to have heen saved from the cinders of the burnt hody, was kept in a church at Normandy. A devout young man of Lower BrittaDy visited it, and the fipjer un known, slipped into the 6leeve of hi co&t. A supernatural power drew him towards'has native country. As he passed through a town, the hells rang joyfully, and the trees bowed in ho- mage. lie was seizeu as a sorcerer, aau iuipn- soned. The next morning he awoke near a fountain in his native village. He hurried to the Chapel of St. Meridee, and the finger imme diately left his sleeve and placed itself pon the altar. Tbe tapers were instantly lighted by an invisible hand, and the people who were present prostrated themselves in prayer. It Was said the finger would never leave the churchy The vassals of Henry VIL stole it on. one occa sion, but.it left them and returned of ts own accord. ' ' I I The nails which fastened the pieces, of the cross togother, were,1t is said, three in pumber. One of them was cast into the sea, and the other two have multiplied immensel3. This fact of their multiplication is accounted for in various ways. .One way, for example, which may give a tolerable hint of the mode of making ' relics, was to touch similar nails with; it, and distribute them as genuine. .Sir Charles Bor rcmeo, an enlightened prelate, and of the most scrupulous exactness in regard to relies, had