THOMAS LORING,
EDITOR AND- PROPRIETOR.
THE CONSTITUTION AND THE UNION OP THE STATES THEY "MUST BE PRESERVED."
VOL. IX- NO. 443.
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THE MIXOr,! A :
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against the invader, one of the first dnties of patriot
ism. We are probably feeble now from the too long
neglect of this duty. But it is not too late to reform the
error, and the time is approaching fast, when the in
tellect of the whole South will be needed for the
conflict.
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ortatots.
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mount bought or sold. D. W. STONE.
Raleigh, Oct. 11, 1841. 377-tf-y p.
From The Philadelphia Saturday Courier.
TIME ENOUGH;
OR. THE MAN THAT ALWAYS PUT THINGS
OFF
UNTIL. TOO LATE.
BY SKETCHES.
" 'There'll be time enough for that, said I."
Bayley.
There are some people in this world to whom
it seems the most difficult task imaginable to do
things in the proper season. Thus, what should
be done to-day is put off until to-morrow, and to
morrow until next day, and so on, again and again,
time after time, much to their own disadvantage,
and oftentimes to the disadvantage of others.
" Time enough time enough, " say they, as
though they were as sure of living another day,
as they are of dying some day. So utterly do they
suffer themselves to fall into this habit, that it be
comes to them a second nature, and like the night
mare, they can scarcely shake it off if they
would.
Such a person wa3 our friend, John Brown, of
whom we are about to treat He was a good-na
tured, clever kind of a body, with a fine face and
form, ana a hner intellect; but he had that one
weak point in his character that unpardonable
mult of putting off- always procrastinating. Even
at school, we remember him as such a person ;
many a ' warm jacket" and "shame face" it obtain
ed for him, too. If there were lessons to be com
mitted to memory, John always left them until the
last moment; if there was writing to be done,
John never commenced until the rest had theirs
half finished: if there were sums to be "cypher'd,"
as he used to say, his slate was bare when those
of his companions, were full ; and then, very of
ten, he was minus a pencil, having put off buy
ing one before school, until it was too late. And
the same way it was in the play hours upon the
common. Ask John for his ball to play with.
"O, he hadn't it with him he was going to bring
it from home but he forgot" Why ? Because
he had put off putting it in his pocket, and at last
came away without it. John had a peach tree at
home in the yard, which his father had given him,
and which one season was loaded with fine mel
low fruit. Now John, as we have said, was a
good-natured fellow, and he promised to bring us
all some peaches ; but alas ! for our juicy antici
pations and watering mouths! John delayed
picking them so long, that one night somebody
relieved him of the trouble, and forced John to
put off picking peaches until the next season.
Near our school bouse there was a small stream,
which one day we all set to work to "dam ;" John
amongst the rest Our work went bravely on, and
we soon completed it. We then, thinking it would
be a fine opportunity, undertook to build just below,
(with some old bricks we found near by) a kind of
pier, exactly in the middle of the gully of the
stream ; the bed of which was now dry. This
pier we intended building, that we might, at any
time after our "dam" had given way, by means
of laying boards, form abridge across. Merrily
we labored, and our pier was about hal finished,
when most of the workmen were frightened away
bv the dam "giving in several places. A few
still remained, among whom, and the busiest, was
John Brown. Soon, however, the rents became
more and more glaring, and one by one the boys
sought the banks, until all were high and dry but
John, who still worked away lustily.
"John John Brown !" sung out a dozen voices
at once, "why don't you come away ? Dont you
see the dam is going ?"
"Never mind," answered John ; "I'll soon have
it finished now. There's time enough."
"Yes, yes, you're always time enough to be
too late!" said one.
"You had better come," said another, "or you'll
be apt to get a ducking."
"No danger," answered John; "there's time
enough."
But scarcely had he concluded the sentence,
when lo! with a sudden rush the dam gave way
and down came the water in its accustomed chan
nel, with a swinging sweep. John had just time
enough to mount on top of the pier, when it broke,
and there he was now knee deep in water, entire
ly surrounded, with a brick in each hand, and a
face expressive of the most fidgetting anxiety
the most laughter-looking picture imaginable.
"Ha ! ha ! ha !" broke out on all sides, and
the roars of mirth seemed as though they would
never die away.
"Throw me a board," cried John.
"Time enough," responded a merry little ur
chin, and this again brought on another fit of laugh-
ing.
However, we threw him a board, and soon re
leased him from his uncomfortable situation, into
which he had introduced himself, by putting off
leaving the pier until it was too late.
It were superfluous, nay, perhaps tiresome, to
some of our readers, to dwell longer upon the ma
ny laughable incidents of John Brown's school
days. We, therefore, pass on to notice one or
two that occurred -after he had left school, and
when between
five.
the ages
of eighteen and twenty-
John's father had died
years of age, leaving a
when he was about ten
moderate fortune, to the
Therefore, John did not
widow and our Inenci.
trouble himself about obtaining a trade or profes
sion, but settled himself comfortably at home, and
employed himself by reading, and such other
amusements as are sought after by intelligent
minds.
Now, John was a great lover of books and
one day he had seated himself comfortably in the
little parlor at home, with a most interesting voK
umeinhis hand, when "ding-a-ling-ding" goes
the door-bell, and shortly after the servant enters
with a letter.
"Well, Thomas," said John, scarce raising his
eyes from the book, " what now ?"
"A letter, sir, by the Boston Post.".
"A letter! for me?"
"For you, sir." And Thomas laid it upon the
table before him.
He broke the seal, and read as follows :
"Dear Sir Haste with all possible speed by
the next mail, to Boston. Your uncle is nearly
in the last extremity of disease, and will perhaps
not last twenty -four hours longer. He ha3 express
ed a great desire for your presence, and perhaps
it will not be to your disadvantage to comply with
his request - .
I have the honor to remain,
"Your ob't servant,
"Robert Grey,
"Attorney at Law.
"To John Brown, Esq."
John stood considering for a few moments.
"Yes ! I must go," muttered he. "Here, Thom
as, get me a few clothes ready in a port-manteau
I must leave for Boston in the two o'clock train ;
it is now twelve."
"Yes, I must go," he repeated. "The old gen
tleman is very rich worth two or three hundred
thousand wants to see me before he dies. I must
go. "I'll get ready immediately." And he
about to leave the room for that purpose.
was
"Stop though there's time enough. Til first
sit down and finish this volume."
No sooner said than done : and so interested
in the book did John become, that he entirely for
got his intended journey. Time passed unheed
ed. At length in rushed Thomas.
"It wants but ten minutes of two, sir : the cars
will leave you behind."
"Only ten minutes of two ! Run for your life,
Thomas hurry with my baggage to the depot
quick ! quick ! I ll follow instantly."
Away went Thomas with all possible speed.
John stopped not long to make much change of
habiliment, but hurried on alter him. The place
Irom whence the cars started was some ten
or twelve squares distant, and ten minutes was a
short space of time to walk it in. However, away
they went, "hot loot
They arrived within two squares of the depot:
the cars were just moving off Thomas, who was
a small distance ahead of his master, took to run-
lg ; so did our friend. Away they went like a
couple of frightened horses, puffing and blowing
at a great rate faster, faster, and yet still faster.
1 hey reached the depot.
"Stop the cars!" shouted Thomas, almost out
of breath.
"Stop the cars," re-echoed our friend.
"Whiz whiz whiz!" went the locomotive
which was now pretty considerable ahead, and
"whiz whiz whiz!" it kept on drowning all
their crie3 to stop.
All that remained now was to go home and
quietly await until 8 o'clock in the evening, when
the next train would start.
And so John did, but it is too late. The old
man breathed his last but an hour before he ar
rived, bequeathing his large fortune to a distant
relative, which he said, in his will, he had fully
intended to leave to his nephew, had he obeyed
his wishes, and hastened to receive his last sigh.
Thus John Brown lost as a down easter would
say, 'pretty considerably.' by this habit of putting
things off. John was outrageously angry witn
himself, yet it did not work a cure upon him, as
vi a . t i .
we will show by the ioJiowing incident tne
most important, and the last we shall give in
John's life. The last, we say, not because it is
all we could relate, but because we have not time
and space.
John Had an aunt who was very rich, and
resided in the city of Philadelphia. His aunt
was in the habit of paying a visit every summer
to him and his mother, in their pleasant cottage,
and had a hundred times invited John to vit Iv r in
town. H?. as often, had promised her to do so,
but his unfortunate habit of "putting off" always
deterred him. One day, however, he deter
mined to go, and for once throwing aside his old
fault, was ready and at the depot a good hour be
fore the starting time.
It is afternoon. The most fashionable street in
the city of Philadelphia is thronged with people
for a lovelier day never dawned old and
young, rich and poor, grave and gay. Laugh
ing, rosy-cheeked belles, and handsome beaux,
are tripping along in hundreds ; and satins rus
tie ; canes swing, eyes meet ; bows follow, and
sometimes blushes. Hum, hum, hum! all is life
and noise; carriages roll; busses rumble; caps
fly ; news boys bawl ; and a thousand other things
add to the excitement.
There are two gentlemanly-looking young
men, who have just turned from a store window,
in which they have been gazing. One is a good
natured, every-day looking personage, about the
middle height; the other rather tall, finely shap
ed, with regular features, brown, silky hair, bright
and smiling eyes, and ruddy cheeks. See ! now
they are walking, arm-in-arm, leisurely along.
A moment more, and a carriage approaches in
an opposite direction, now it is nearly oppo
site them a face of most expressive beauty is vi
sible through the window a bewitching smile
is upon it, and a pair of sparkling blue eyes greet,
with a look of recognition, the aforesaid gentle
man. They bow in return, and one blushes; it is
the tallest one of the two.
"Is she not beautiful ?" exclaimed the other.
"Do you think so, George?" said his compan
ion abstractedly.
"Do I think so ! Come cousin John, that is
excel lect I suppose you do not?" said the first
speaker, archly.
"I I ?"
"Yes, you you, my dear fellow ; you who
danced with her so often at my birth-night ball, a
month ago, just after you arrived upon your visit
to us; you who have gallanted her whenever you
could get an opportunity since ; you on whom
she does not look very coldly, I think ; you "
"Well, coz, what else?" interrupted the one
called John, with a good humored smile.
"Why but I'll just give you a piece of
advice ; pop the question as soon as possible, for
she is worth having, I assure you. If you do not,
you will stand a chance of losing her, for she does
not look coldly on Ned Mortimer, either. So I
say pop the question at the first opportunity. If I
were not engaged already I might not give you
such advice, my good fellow."
"Pshaw ! You don't know what you're say
ing, coz," was the reply, whilst the color deepen
ed on thespeaker's cheek.
"Don't I ? But sce,jhat lady has dropped her
handkerchief; I'll run after her with it"
Whilst he was performing this act of benevo
lence, or honesty, or politeness, whichever you
choose to call it, his companion walked slowly on,
muttering, "pop the question " "Ned Mortimer,"
" chance of losing her, " &c. Time enough
though," said he, half aloud, ?'time enough."
And now, gentle reader, have ye not recogni
zed this good looking personage! That last ex
clamation might have told ye it .was our friend
John Brown.
His cousin George Montgomery, was soon a
gain at his side; and walking on, they shortly
came to a large mansion, which they entered. It
was the residence of John's aunt and George's
mother. , .
The ladv whom their conversation related to,
was named Clara Stanley, an heiress not only of
wealth, but also of beauty. Mistress ot Herself
for her parents had been dead some years and she
was now of age she was free to bestow her hand
on whomsoever she pleased. Many suitors had
she, as might naturally be expected ; but to a few
only did she give an encouraging smile.
Our hero had become acquainted with her short
ly after his arrival in the city, and now, to use a
vulgar expression, was "over head and .ears in
love." And indeed she was no unworthy object ;
for, to an amiable disposition, she united a highly
cultivated and sound mind. John had intended
several times wnen good opportunities had occur
red, to make an offer of bis heart and hand, but
"time enough," he said to himself and so the op
portunities passed. Now his fears were some
what awakened by his cousin's hints respecting
JNed Mortimer, (a fine looking, worthy young
man) and he determined to improve the chance,
should any again be presented.
We will now take the liberty of transporting
our readers to another scene. The time is eve-
1 la
nmg, ana several days subsequent to the previous
one ; the place a beautiful villa, some short dis
tance outside of the city proper; a magnificent sa
loon is filled with the elite of the beaumonde:
dancers bound lightly to the soul-stirring strains of
music, and mirth and loyfulness prevail. It is Mrs,
JVlanley's ball a lady distinguished in the fash-
lonaoie circles, iet us enter ana see whom we
1 -w
can recognize. Uh I there is our bon ami John
Brown, and his cousin George Montgomery, and
the lady who smiled upon them from the carriage
the other day, Clara btanley: she is leaning on
John's arm ; thev are awaiting; to take their places
m the next cotillion, bhe is a bewitching crea
. .. t. . . ...
ture. Such an exquisitely rounded form, and so
dignified its carriage ; such auburn hair, such de
licately chiselled features; such rosy lips, and
pearly teeth ; such glowing cheeks, and such
laughing light blue eves, whose every sparkle tells
of a merry soul within ! Now see another person
approaches the group. He is a tall, finely formed
man, with noble features, dark eves, and a pleas
ing countenance.
"Shall. 1 have the pleasure of dancing with
Miss Stanley in the cotillion after this?" said he,
bowing familiarly.
"Pray excuse me, but I am engaged," . answer
ed the lady, smiling graciously upon him.
"And the next too I
"Yes sir."
"And the next ?"
"That also.".
"And for the last?"
"No, not for the last"
"Then, pray honor me by becoming my part
ner in that."
"With the greatest of pleasure."
Mr. Mortimer, for it was he, bowed and retir
ed. And now the signal is given for the sets to
take their places. They are all ready ; and now
the music burst forth, "rich, voluptuous, swelling,
wild." They move the dance is begun and
light heels bound, responsive to its exciting meas
ures. How joyous, how gleeful, how intoxica
ting is the "poetrv of motion ! The world and
its cares the future the past all are forgotten
in the blissful present ! The soft chain of pleas
ure is around them they are drinking ot joy s
bright chalice, and its generous contents soothe
their senses with sweet ibrgetfulness of life's dark
shadowed ills.
The dance had finished, the music had ceased,
and the gentlemen were leading their partners
from the floor.
" Tis very warm, said Clara Stanley to our
friend, as he was conducting her to a seat
"Exceedingly, so," returned John. "If Miss
Stanley has no objections, I would propose walk
ing in the garden uutil the next cotillion.
"None, whatever," was the reply.
Arm in arm they sauntered forth into the beau
tiful grounds which surrounded their hostess' man
sion. It was a lovely moonlight evening in June;
the stars in thousands, gemmed the heavens, and
no cloud was visible in the vast expanse. A soft,
southern wind came gently o'er the green fields,
and shook from the rare exotics and shrubs, with
which the grounds abounded, their sweet and balmy
incense. . All nature was at rest; a magic still
ness reigned around a dreamy calmness, not seen,
but felt hung motionless about In fact it was a
fitting night for love a night whose influence
makes the lover's affection lean more tenderly to
ward the object of his adoration.
This influence was felt by our friend as they
slowly paced the shady walks which beautified
the garden. Her arm was locked in his she
hung upon it; and, it seemed to him, affectionate
ly. Her silvery voice thrilled upon his ear, as if
in warmer accents than was their wont His
heart was in raptures.
Several times did they make the circuit of the
grounds, and at every sequestered nook they noar
ed, did John determine upon following his cousin's
advice, and pop the question ; but each time it was
put off until they arrived at another opportune
place, and so on, until at last they, approached a
seat beneath a spreading elm.
"I should like to rest awhile, Mr. Brown," said
Miss Stanley.
"And I have Vio objections," said John.
Thev sat down. He took her hand. A short
silence ensued ; his arm stole slowly around her
waist anotner pause, inow now is tne time
John Brown now the auspicious moment
Screw up thy courage to the sticking point be a
wise man once. Look ! his lips move but they
utter no sound. Now his arm is partly withdrawn
from her waist he falters. Shall we read his
thoughts ? We will. He is saying to himself,
"Time enough time enough! Why shouldl
be in a hurry ?"
But hark ! there are footsteps coming. Ah !
the chance is lost, John Brown ! They are join
ed by some friends, and all now proceed to the
ball-room.
A week afterwards, the following notice ap
peared in one of the morning papers :
"Last night, by the Rev. Mr. Davis, Mr. Ed
ward Mortimer to Miss Clara Stanley, all of this
citv."
The reader may imagine the mortification of
our friend we cannot describe it Thus, by his
procrastination, he lost a lovely and accomplished
wife, for there is not the least doubt but he would
have been accepted. He is now living a confirm
ed old bachelor. Yet his loss has had one good
effect upon him, for since that he set about curing
himself of his fault, and now there is not a more
punctual gentleman in existence.
We have only a few more words to say, and
they are these. There are many more John
Browns in the woild verv manv -and we would
humbly beg them to ponder well upon this brief
sketcn oi a orotner in error, ana pear mis irumiui
maxim always in mind, "never put off until to
morrow that which can be done to-day."
Jl3It is said there is a fellow "down east," so
powerful in the arms, that he is employed to
squeeze tar out of pine wood.
A TOUCHING SKETCH OF PARENTAL
SORROW.
A few months ago I buried my eldest son, a fine
manly boy ot eight years of age, who never had
had a day's illness until that which took him hence
to be here no more. His death occurred under
circumstances peculiarly painful to me. A young
er brother, the next in age to him, a delicale sick
ly child from a baby, had been down for nearly a
fortnight with an epidemic fever. In consequence
of the nature of the disease, I used every precau
tion that prudence suggested , to guard the other
members of my family against it But of this one,
had but little fear : he was so rugged and so
generally healthy. Still, however, I kept a vig
ilant eye upon him, and especially forbade his
going into the pools, and docks near his school,
which he was prone to visit
One evening I came home wearied, with a
long day's hard labor, and vexed at some little
disappointments, and found that he had also just
come into the house, and that he was wet, and cov
ered with dock mud. I taxed him with disobe
dience and scolded him severely more so than I
had ever done before : and then harshly ordered
him to his bed. - He opened his lips, for an excul
patory reply as I supposed, but I sternly checked
him : when with a mute, sorrowful countenance
and a swelling breast, he turned away and went
slowly to his chamber. My heart smote me at
the moment, though I felt conscious of doing a
father s duty. But how much keener did I fee
the pang when l was informed in the course o
the evening by a neighbor, that my boy had gone to
the dock at the earnest solicitation of a younger
and favorite playmate, and by the especial permis
sion ot his school-mnster, in order to recover a
cap belonging to the former, which had blown over
the wharf. Thus I learned that what I had treat
ed with unwonted severity as a fault, was but the
impulse of a generous nature which, forgetful o
self, had hazarded perhaps life for another. 1
was but the quick prompting of that manly spirit
which I had always endeavored to engraft upon
his susceptible mind, and which, young as he
was, had already manif stcd itself on more than
one occasion.
How bitterly did I regret my harshness, and
resolved to make amends to his grieved spirit in
the morning ! Alas ! that moining never came
to him in health. Before retiring for the night
however, I crept to his low cot, and bent over him
A tear had stolen down upon his cheek, and rested
there. I kissed it off; but he slept so sweetly and
so calmly, that I did not venture to disturb him.
The next day he awoke with a raffing fever on
his brain, and in forty-eight hours was no more!
tie did not know mc when I was first called to
his bedside nor at any moment afterward, though
in silent agony I bent over him till death and dark
ness closed the scene. I would have given worlds
to have whispered one kind word in his ear, and
have been answered ; but it was not permitted.
Once indeed a smile, I thought ot recognition,
lighted in his eye, and I leaned eagerly forward.
But it passed quickly away, and was succeeded
by the cold, unmeaning glare, and the wild toss
ing of the fevered limbs, that lasted till death
came to his relief.
Every thing I now see that belonged to him re
minds me of the lost one. Yesterday I found
some jude pencil sketches which it was his delight
to make for the amusement of his younger brother;
to-day in rummaging an old closet I came across
his boots, still covered with dockmud as when he
last wore them; and every morning and evening I
pass the ground where his voice rang the merri
est among his playmates. All these things speak
to me vividly of his active life; but I cannot, though
I often try, recall any other expression of his far
ther than that mute, mournful one with which
he turned from me on the night I so harshly re
pulsed him. O ! how careful should we all be,
that in our daily conduct towards those little be
ings sent us by a kind Providence, we are not
laying up for ourselves the sources of many a fu
ture bitter tear! How cautious, that neither by
inconsiderate word or look we unjustly grieve
their generous feelings ! And how guardedly
ought we to weigh every action against its motive,
lest in a moment of excitement we be led to mete
out to the venial errors of the heart the punish
ment due only to wilful crime ! Alas! perhaps
few parents suspect how often the sudden blow,
the fierce rebuke, is answered in their children by
the tears, not of passion, not of physical or mental
pain, but of a loving but grieved or outraged
nature. Knickerbocker Magazine.
THE PROTECTIVE SYSTEM.
Gloves may be had, it shall be supposed, from a
French maker for the value of two shillings a
pair. An Englishman stands up and says that he
can make gloves of the same kind for three shil
lings, and therefore, for the sake of encouraging
British commerce, it is expedient to pass a law to
prohibit the introduction of French gloves at two
shillings, in order that those who choose to wear
gloves may be obliged to take them from the En
glishman at three.
When you buy a pair of French gloves, it is
clear that they are paid for in something. You
have the substantial evidence that you did not get
them for nothing, and so' has every body else.
They must have been paid for either with
goods of English produce, or with goods of some
kind (gold and silver included.) which ha? been
brought from abroad with goods of English pro- j
duce, or with bills which are only an order for
payment in one or the other ways a few days
hence instead of to-day. Unless an Englishman
has the art of getting any thing for nothing, in
one or other of these ways must they infallibly
have been been paid for. Here then, are at ail
events two shillings accounted for out of the three,
which are as fairly expended for the benefit of
British producers and manufacturers of somekind.
as they would be if the gloves were brought from
a British glove-maker at the same price. They
are paid for to the Frenchman, in, it may be, Shef
field goods. But if the glove-maker procures a
law that gloves shall not be brought from France,
it is plain that Sheffield goods must stop. The
glove-maker may obtain employment and trade to
the amount of two shillings, but it is equally plain
that the Sheffield man must lose it '
So much for the part which consists of the two
shillings. Next for the part which consists of the
other one. And this, says the glove maker, is to
be a clear gain to British commerce, and it is a
horrible wrong to be deprived of it Now mark
the juggle, look sharply to the shuffling of the
balls. If the wearer of gloves is- to be forc
ed to expend a shilling more upon the glove
maker, he must expend a shilling less upon
somebody. It may be that he would not have
expended it at Sheffield, but at Birmingham : or
that it would have been divided among fifty other
places, which it is impossible to assign by mme.
But still it is ns clear ns ever that the shilling
which it is proposed to make him expend nolens
volens upon the glove-maker, most be taken from
the custom of some other British manufacturers
somehow and somewhere. There is no decep
tion arising from the payments being made in mo
ney; if instead of shillings they were made with
pecks of wheat it would be iust r.s true that the
third peck which the glove maker demands a law
to put in his own pot must be taken from tb.R nurl.
ding of Some British manufacturer tn whnm it
w- - - - v w w
would otherwise have rone. Do not allow vour-
selves to be tamely taken in because the men who
try to do it wear good clothes. Either it is trua
or is k not it it is not true, let somebody show
where it is false. Till then take leave to account
it correct
Here then are the whole three shillinrs nerfct-
ly accounted for. It is shown to be a hocus-Do-
CUS and a fraud. that states inv o-ain arises tn
British commerce or production in the ao-prpo-ato
from the prohibition of the commerce in French
gloves, or that any aggregate loss is induced by
its absence. The whole amounts only to a plaa
for robbing a Sheffield man or a Birmingham,
w ho can make what people will voluntarily buy,
for the benefit of the glover who cannot ; for clip-?
ping the commerce of some individual who has
ingenuity and skill enough to command a market,
to add it to him who is without.
But this is not all ; there is another count in tho
indictment The consumer, the unfortunate men
who is in the habit of wearing gloves, istohetho
gratuitous loser of a shilling besides. Ifthethiljing
was to go to the benefit of commerce, he might wrap
himself up in his patriotism and be consoled. If
it was really to cause any increase in the safety or
strength of the community of which he is a mrm
ker if the thousandth part of a farthing of it was
to appear in the shape of national wealth, securi
ty or splendor he might lay aside the feelings of
an injured purchaser of mittens, and exult in hi
fractional portion of the glory of those who have
suffered for their country. But when it is to be
taken from him with, no object, no prospect no
hope, but that a clumsy and inefficient artisan
shall be enabled to appropriate the custom of an
intelligent and effective one, his situation present!
itself in all its nakedness, his courage sinks nndr
the view, the feelings of humanity prevail, ho
drops a tear and wipes it on his three shil
ling gloves, and sits down a melancholy monu
ment of what it is to be "the envy of surrounding
nations and the wonder of the world."
Col. Thompson's Political Extrcites.
Boarders Waktep. Our Jail still contin-
ues tenantiess notwithstanding ns low price oi
board and lodging, its airy and healthy situation :
and its undoubted security, as well against Miller.
ism as against fire and other destructives 1 With
the exception of a lodger or so, for a day,
or a night as tne case migm oe, in is spicnaia
hotel ! (the mo3t expensive we presume of any of
the kind in the State,) has been for weeks unoccu
pied. This is hard to be accounted for, when wo
consider, either the hardness of the times, the cov
eted retiracy of the rooms, the cheapness of tba
fare, or the well known kindness and urbanity of
its principal keeper. There is something wrong,
somewhere. We shall look into the matter fur
ther, before long ! Macon (Geo.) Teltgraph.
The Greensborough Patriot says: "James A.
Black Esq. recently elected to Congress from the
York District in South Carolina, "twenty five
years ago carried the United States mail on horse
back through that part of the State." For the
past few years we have frequently seen him in
Greensborough dealing in iron with the Messrs.
Sloan. Further, he is a thoroughgoing Tem
perance man, and has sometimes given our Teeto
tal Society in this place a word of comfort
Clerical Humor. There is a goodanfedota
told in the Foreign Quarterly Review, of an ec
centric Neapolitan friar, named Rocco, who once
maintained in argument with a Casttlian, that
there was not a single Spaniard in Heaven. The
Castiltan was startled at so unexpected a declara
tion, but Kocco maintained the truth oi it. 'A few
were let in at first, he said, 'but they smoked so
many cigars that the Madonna and the other vir
gins were fairly sick; so St. Peter set his wits to
work to find how he might rid them of such disa
greeable guests. He sent a crirr to every part of '
Heaven to proclaim that a cull fight was to bo
held outside the gate. Thereupon every Spanish
saint, without exception, ran off to see the show,
and he took care never to let another Spaniard in
again.
N. O. Pic
Hunt for Happiness. It is related of an
Eastern Caliph, that being sorely afflicted with
ennui he was advised , that an exchange of shirts
with a man who was perfectly happy would cure
him. Alter a long search he discovered such a
. f i.e.i t i ii
person, but was informed mat the nippy lcnow
had not a shirt '
We copy the following from the Pekln (111.)
alladium of the 22 ultimo:
"Most Distressing Occurrence. -We aro
ust informed of a most melancholy accident that
took place on one of the prairies in the western
part of the State. A family of emigrants, eleven
in number, while on their way to Iowa, were fro
zen to death in their wagon. The horses stopped
at a house, when the inmates, not seeing any ona
alight from the wagon, were. induced by mere cu
riosity to make a closer examination. Upon look-
mg into the wagon, they were horror-struck ot
the appalling spectacle which presented itself to
their view.
"The fatJier and nine children were lying dead
in the bottom of the wagon; the mother, proba
bly the last survivor, was sitting up and holding
the reins, as if driving.
"We did not learn the name of this unfortunate
family, or from what part of tho country they
were removing.
A very old lady, in Boston, who has bern from
her youth a devoted admirer of "Harry of th
West," on reading Miller's prediction of the gen
eral smash in 1843, exclaimed, "I knew it; I al
ways said some darn'd thing or other would, happen
to prevent Clay's election."
V Good Sentiment. -If you wish to giva
consequence to your inferiors, answer their attacks.
Michael Angelo, advised to resent the insoienceof
soma obscure upstart who was pushing'Tbnvard to
notice by -declaring himself hi rival, answer
ed, "Who contest? with the bass losss all"
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