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NO. 24.
RALEIGH, FRIDAY, MAY 9, 1851.; hv''-: '
mail, at our risk, 111 payment for subscrip
tions, advertisements, jobs, &c.
1 Kj
i Mi
P O E T R Y.
When the streamlet is dried up.
Then fly to the fountain !
When the valley is floudfd,
Then heste to the mountain !
When the arm th u hast lent on,
Is laid in the dust,
On the arm of thy God '.
Lean, w th faith's cheerful trust.
Earth's lourds ! oh how tempting
Th. 6 rve- sod their frait !.
Hem- v ' - . t'i it s'-vfe' h ,dow !
Bn ; w m"s t the r.-t !
YV ,-! t'.v .-.;:. th-.t o i .'i.H-r- d:
Is nulii rtd i way,
Bo the shalow of Jesus
Tliy s'telter and stay!
How oft have Hope's visions
Deceived the fond-hearted !
Like therainb w they shone :
Like the rainbow departed !
When theT lishl once sparkled
Is darkened and gone.
See ! the rainbow that fades not
It arches God's throne.
How oft havh earth's pleasures,
For which our hearts p.uned,
Lik'.v the bright poison berry,
Proved deadly, when granted !
Wheti the soul has been sickened
With earth's poisoned joy ;
Look up for i ure pleasures
Their fountain's on high !
.'As the love, when of old
From the ark it went forth,
.Some green spot to rest on,
To seek tbrong't the earth,
When it found that the delude
So deep and so dark,
Left' no green spot uncovered,
li.' 1 -he r'.i :
Sol '.v!-- '.; C : ::"'! ;
u- - i --.f .
And no jjrei u sp.l of tiujuess
No I ope-branh .s found :
Then Cee to tlie Saviour
The true ark of rest !
Oil ! there's no place of shelter
Like his pittying breast !
When there, thou art sheltered,.
Though storms wrap the skies,
And higher aud higher
The deep floods jtrise j.
Above the ark waters .
The ark's lifted high,
And bears its blessed iumutes,
To God"s niouut the sky !
By the scorn and scoffing.
For thy ske He loie
By the a'.iarp crown of thorns,
For thy sake He wore
By the sweat in the yiirdeu
The death o:i th-' tree
To II m, w:io redeemed thee
Thou wearied one, llee.
From Him, thine own Saviour,
Whatever may betide thee,
No distance can sever,
$o so.row divide thee?
Earth's friei.ds m- y forsake
But Jie'll foisake neve.;
Ea i til's loved musi dit
But he lives forever.
In love He affl cts thee ;
In mercy He chastens :
To wound He is slow
To bind up He hastens,
When thy sins call for chasteuiDgs
I will Cinlort iuipait
Though ajrowu's on His brow,
Yet, theru's love in His hert I
Each dear earthly cistern
By His hand may be broken !
; But the stroke, though severe
Of His love is a token,
Ie breaks them, that we,
By their loss, may be I-d
To driuk of true pleasures,
From joy's .ouutaiu head.
To Him who so loved thee,
Let grief draw thee nearer :
Each dear precious promise
Let sorrow make dearer
Then welcome the trial,
By which there is given,
To thy soul more of God !
To thy heart more of heaven !
From Arthur's Home G.tzette.
Part I. -There
it stood in its little green vase, on
a light ebony stand, in the window of the
drawirig-rooni. The rich satin curtains
with their cost ly fringes, swept down on
either side of it, and around it glittered ev
ery rare and fanciful trifle which wealth
can offer to luxury, and yet that simple
krose was the fairest of them all. So pure
it looked its white leaves just touched
with that delicious creamy : tint, peculiar
to its kind, its cup so full, so perfect, its
head bending as if it were sinking and
melting away in its own richness oh,
ween diq man ever, mate anything like
the living perfect flower ! t . . ,
But -the sunlight that ' streamed through
ihe window revealed .something fairer than
the rose. Reclined cn an ottoman , nn a
deep recess, and intently engaged with a
book lay what seemed the' living counter
part of that so lovely flower. The cheek
-' ' . -" -"- . the face so full of
high thought, the fair forehead, the long
downcast lashes, and the expression of the
beautiful mouth so sorrowful, yet so sub
dued and sweet it seemed like the pic
lure of a drenm.
"Florence ! Florence !" echoed a
merry and musical voice, in a sweet im
patient tone. Turn your head, reader,
and you will see a dark and sparkling mai
den, the very model of some little wilful elf,
born of mischief and motion, with a danc
ing eye, , a foot that scarcely seemed to
touch the carpet, and a smile so multiplied
by dimples, that ii seemed like a thousand
s.niles at once.
"Come Florence, I say," said the little
fi-ry, 'put down that wise, good, excellent
volume, and talk with a .poor little mortal
come, destend from your cloud," my
dear." .
The fair apparition thus adjured, obey
ed, and, looking up, revealed just the eyes
you expected to see beneath such lids ;
eyes deep, pathetic and rich, as a strain of
sad music.
"I say, cousin," said the 'darke ladye,'
"I've been thinking what you are to : do
with your pet rose when you go to New
York as to our great c nsiernation j'ou
are going to do you know it would be a
sad pity io leave it witn such u scatter
brain as I am. 1 do love flowers that's a
fact ; that is, I like a regular boquet, cut
off and tied up to carry to a party ; but as
to all this tending fussinjr that is necessary
to keep them growing1, I've no gifts in that
line.." v..-;. ". :'' ; v. ' "
"Make yourself quite easy as to that
Kate," said Florence, with a smile, "I've
no intention of calling upon your tal
ents ; I have an asvlum for my favor
ite." ,'.";
"Oh, then you know just Avhat I was
going to say ; Mrs. Marshall, I presume
has been speaking to you ; she was here
yesterday, and I was very pathetic upon
the subject, telling her the loss your favor
ite woul. I sustain, and so forth, and she
said how delighted she should be to have,
it in her green house, it is in such a fine
state now, so full of Duds. I told her I
knew you would like it, of ell things, to
give it to her ; you were always so fond of
Mrs. Marshall, you know." .
"Nay, Kate, I 'm sorry, but I have oth
erwise engaged it."
"Who can it be to ? You have so few
iniimates here."
"Oh, only one of my odd fancies."
"But do tell me, Florence."
"Well cousin, you know the little pale
girl to whom we give sewing."
"What little Mary Stephens ? How ab
surd ! This is just of a piece, Florence,
wi;h your o:her motherly, old-maidish
ways dressing dolls for poor children,
making caps, and knitting socks for ail
the dirty little babies in the region rountl
about. I do believe that you have made
more calls in those two vile, ill smelling
alleys back of our house, than ever you
have in Chesnut street, though ye n know
every body has been half dying to see you ;
and now, to crown a'l, you must give this
choice little bijou to a semptress girl, when
one of your most intimate friends, in your
own class, would value it so highly. What
in the world can people in their circun
stances want wilh flowers ?"
"Just the same that I do," replied
Florence, calmly. "Have you ever no
ticed that the little girl never. conies here
without looking wistfully at the opening
buds ? and don't. 3 011 remember the morn
ing when she asked me so prettily if I
would let her mother come and see it, she
was so fond of flowers?"
"Hut Fioience, only think of this rare
flower standing on a table w ith ham, eggs,
cheese and flour, and stifled in the close
little room where Mrs. Stephens and her
daughter manage to wash, iron, cook, and
nobody knows what besides-"
" Well Kate, and if I were obliged to
live in one coarse room, and wash, iron,,
and cook as you say if I had to spend
every moment of my time in hard toil,
widi no prospect from my window but a
brick sidewalk, or a dirty lane, such a
flower as this would be untold happiness
to me."
"Pshaw, Florence all sentiment ; poor
people have no time to be sentimental :
besides, I don't think it will grow with
them it is a green-house flower, and used
to delicate living."
"Oh, as to that, a flower never inquires
-whether its owner be rich or poor ; and
Mrs. Stephens, whatever else she has not,
has sunsliine of as good a quality as that
that streams through our window.'. The
beautiful things that God makes are the
gift of all alike. You will 6ee that my lit
tle rose will be as well and merry in Mrs.
Stephens's room as in ours."
. "Well, after all, how odd ! When one
gives to poor people one wants to give
them something use'ul a bushel of pota
toes or aham for example." -
"Why certainlv, potatoes and ham must
be had : but, havin? ministered to the
first and most craving wants, why not add
any little' pleasures or gratifications that we
may have it in our power to give. 1 I know
there are many of the poor who have fine
feeling and a keen sense of the beautiful,
which rusts out and dies because they are
too hard pressed to procure it' onegratii ca
tion'.. Poor , Mrs. Stephens, forexamt e :
1 know she wonld enjoy birds, ,and li. w
era, and. music, as much us I do.-
i have seen her eye kindle as she has io. fe
ed on these things in our drawing-rboni;
aud yet not one beautiful ; thing can she
command, j. , Fom necessity, her room, her
clothing, all dial she has must be coarse and
plain. You should have seen the utmost
rapture that she and Mary felt w hen 1 of
fered them my rose."
'Dear me, all this may be true, but I
never thought of it before. I never thought
t hat these hard-working people had any idea
of taste!" : '
"Then why do you see so often the ger
anium or rose carefully nursed in an old
cracked teapot in the poorest room, or the
morning glories planted in a box, and made
to twine around the window. Do not all
these show how every human heart yearns
after the beautiful? You remember how
Mary our washerwoman sat up a whole
night after a hard day's work, that she
might make her baby a pretty little dress to
be baptized in."
"Yes, I remember, and how I laughed
at you for making such a tasty little cap
.for it." ,
" Well,. Katy, I think that the look of
perfect delight and satisfaction with which
the poor girl regarded her baby in its new
dress and cap, was something quite worth
creating ; I do not believe she could not
have thanked me more, if 1 had sent her
a barrel of flour."
" Well, I sever before thought of giving
to the poor anything but what they really
needed, and I have always been willing to
do that when I could without going far
out of my way."
"Well, cousin, if our -Heavenly Father
gave to us as we often give, we should have
only- coarse shapeless piles of proTision,
lying about the world, instead of al.l the
beautiful variety of trees, fruits and flowers
which now delight us."
"Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are
right, but pray have .'mercy on my poor
head ; it is too small to hold so many new
ideas at once ; even goon your own way :"
and the little lady began practising a waltz
ing step before the glass with great satis
faction. PahtII.
It was a very small room, and lighted
by only one wmdow. There was no car
pet on the floor ; there was a clean but
coarsely covered bed in one corner ; a cup
board with a few plates and dishes in the
other ; a chest of drawers ; and before the
winuow stood a small ciierry stand, quite
new, and indeed the
room that seemed so.
ing woman of about
only article in the
A pale,sickly-look-
forty, was leaning
back in her rocking chair, her eyes closed,
and her lips compressed as if in pain. She
rocked backward and forward a few mo
ments, pressed her hand hard upon her
eyes, and than languidly resumed the fine
stitchingon which she had been busy since
morning. The door opened, and a slender
ittile girl of about twelve years of age en
tered, her large blue eyes dilated, and ab
solutely radiant with delight, as she held
up the small vase with the rose tree m it.
"Oh, see ! mother, see I there's one in
full bhom , and two more half out, beauti
ful buds!"
The poor woman's face brightened, as
she looked first on the rose, and then on
her sickly girl, on whose face she had not
seen so bright a color for months.
"God bless her !" said she, involuntarily.
"Miss Florence I I know you would feel
so, motner ; don t it make your neaoacne
better to see this flower ? Now you -won't
look so wishful at the gardeners' stands in
the market, will you We have a rose
handsomer than any of theirs. Why it
seems to me, that it is worth as much to
us as our whole litde garden used to be.
See how many more bud3 there are on it,
just count, aud only smell the flower !
W here shall .we put it ' and Mary skip
ped ahout the room, placing her treasure
first in one position, and then in another,
and walking off to see the effect , till her
mother gently reminded her that the rose
tree could not preserve its beauty without
"Oh yes, truly !" said Mary ; "well
then, it must stand here on this new stand.
How glad I am that we have such a hand
some new stand for it, it will look so much
better," And Mrs. Stephens laid down
her work and folded a piece of newspaper
on which the treasure was duly deposited.
"There," said Mary, watching the ar
rangements eagerly, "that will do ; no,
though it does not show both the buds
turn it farther round a little more there,
it's right ; and Maiy walked round the
room to view the rose in various positions,
tfter which she insisted that her mother
should go round with her to the outside to
see how it looked there "How kind it
was in Miss Florence to think of giving
this to us;" said Mary ; "though she has
done so much for us, and giving us so
many things, yet this ' present seems the
best of all, because it seemed as if she
thought of us, and knew just how we felt,
and so few do that." ' .
"Yes, indeed," said. Mrs. Stephens signing-
."'' :'"' t ' : -" : -:: - v-
What a brilliant afternoon that small gift
made in that little room. How much faster
Mary's tongue and fingers flew the live
long day, and Mrs. Stephens, in the hap
piness of her child, almost forgot that she
had a headache, and thought as she sip
ped her evening cup of lea, that she felt
stronger than she had done for some time.
K , That rose ; its sweet influence died -not
with the first day v . Through . all the Jong
cold winter that followed, the. watching,
tending, and cherishing of that flower, a
wakened a thousand plelant trains of
thought that beguiled the sameness and
weariness of their life. - Every day the fair
growing thing put forth some fresh beauty ;
a bud a leaf or a new shoot constantly
excit''? i :- x8sessor9.
As it stood in the window, the passer by
would sometimes stop and gaze, attracted
by its beauty, and then how proud and
happy was Mary, nor did even the serious
and care-worn widow, notice with indiner
ence when she saw the eye of a chance vis
itor rest admiringly on their favorite.
But little did Florence know when she
gave that gift, that there was an invisible
thread that reached far and brightly into the
web of her destuiy. , , .- ,
One cold afternoon in the. early spring,
a tall, graceful young rmu called at the
lowij room to. receive irvai& payfor some
linen which the widow hadi been making
up. He was a way-farer and stranger in
the place, recommended through the char
ity of some of Mrs. Stephens's patrons.
His eye, as he was going out, rested ndmi
ringly upon the ipse ; he stopped and look
ed earnestly at it.
"It'was giveu to us," said the little Mary ,
quickly,- "by a young lady as sweet and
beautiful as that is."
"Ah !" said the stranger, turning and
fixing upon her a pair of very bright eyes,
pleased and struck with the simplicity of
the communication, "and how 'came, she
to give it to j'ou, my little girl?
"Oh, because we are poor, and mother
is sick, and we never can have anything
pretty. We used to have aarden once,
and we loved flowers so much, and Miss
Florence found all this out, and so she
give us this.
"Florence !" echoed the stranger.
" Yes, Miss Florence l'Estrange. a beau
tiful young lady, they say she was from
foreign parts, though she speeks English
just like any other lady, only sweeter."
"Is she here now f 13 she m this city :
said the gentleman eagerly.
"No, she left some months ago, said
the widow : but noticing the sudeen shade
of disappointment on his face, she added,
"but you can find all abou her y inquir
ing at her aunt, Mrs. Carlisle's, No. 10
As the result of this, Florence received
from the office in the next mail, a letter,
in a hand-writing that made her tremble.
During the many early years of her life
spent in France, she had well learned that
writing; had loved as a woman like her
loves, only one : but there had been obsta
cles of parents and friends, separation, and
long suspense, till at length, for many bit
ter years, she had believed that the relent
less sea had closed for ever over that hand
and heart ; and it was this belief that had
touched, with such sweet calm sorrow,
every line in her lovely face. But this
letiertold her that he was living, that he
had traced her, even as a hidden streamlet
may be traced, by the freshness, the grenn-
ness of heart, which her deeds of kindness
had left wherever she had passed.
And thus much said, do our fair readers
need any help in finishing tliis story for
themselves ? Of course not.
The foUowinff description of a visit to
Botallack Copper Mine, in England,!-is
fxm a w-pik recently published, entitled
Rambles beyond Kailroads. In com
plete mining equipment, with candles
stuck by lamps of clay to their felt hats,
the travellers nave painfully descended bv
perpendicular ladders and along dripping
wet rocK passages, iatnoms aown mio
pitchy darkness ; the miner who guides
them calls a. halt, and their exact position
with reference to the surface of the terra
queous globe, is thus described :
We are now lour hundred yards out,
under the bottam of the sea ! and twenty
fathoms, or a hundred and twenty ieet he-
low the sea level. Coast trade vessels are
sailing over our heads. Two hundred
and forty feet beneath us men arc at work,
and there are galleries deeper yet, even
below that ! The extraoidinary position
down the face of the cliff, of the engines
and other works on the surface, at Bottal
lack, is now explained. The mine is not
excavated like other mines under the
land, but under the sea !
Having communicated these particulars,
the miner next tells us to keep a strict si
lence and listen. We obey him , sitting
speechless and motionless. If the reader
could only have beheld us now, dressed in
our copper colored garments, huddled
close together in a mere cleft of subterra
nean tock, with a flame burning on bur
heads and darkness enveloping our limbs
he must certtiinly have imagined, with
out any violent stretch of fancy, that he
was looking down upon ai conclave of
gnomes. .
After listening for a few moments, a dis
tant, unearthly noise becomes faintly au
dible a long, low, mysterious moaning,
that never changes that is felt on the
ear as well as heard by it- a sound
that might proceed from some incalculable
distance from some far invisible height
a sound unlike anything that . is heard on
the upper ground, in the free air of Heav
en a sound so sublimely mournful and
still, so ehostly and impressive, when list
ened f.o in the subterranean recesses of the
earth, that we continue instinctively to
hold our peace, as if enchained by it, and
think not of communicating to each other
the strange feeling and astonishment which
it has inspired, in us both from the first.
At last the. miner speaks again, and tells
us that what we hear is the sound of the
surf lashjng therocks a hundred and twen
ty feet above us, and of L'io waves that are
breaking on the beach beyond, ,4 The tide
m "".at th? flow, and the sea is jn no ex-
traordinary state of agitation ; so the sound
fslowand distant just atthisperiod. But,
when storms are at their height, when the
ocean hurls mountain after mountain of
water on the cliffs, then the noise is terrific ;
the roaring heard down her in the mine
is so inexpressibly fierce and awful, that
the boldest men at work are afraid 10 con
tinue their labor all asrend to the surface
to breathe the upper air and stand on the
firm earth ; dreading, though no catastro
phe has ever happened yet, that the sea j
will break in on. them if they remp.'in.;n 'he I
cavern below.
Hearing this, we get up to look nt the
rock above us. We are able to stand up
right in the position we now occupy ; and
flaring our candles hither and thither in the
darkness, can see the bright, pure copper
streaking the gallery direction. Lumps of
ooze, of the most lustrous green color,
traversed by a natural network of thin red
veins of iron, appear here and there in
large, irregular patches, over which water
is dripping slowly and incessan'.iy in cer
tain places. This is the salt water perco
lating ihrough.invisible crannies' in the rock.
On stormy days it spirts om furious!- hi
thin, continuous streams. Just over our
heads we observe a wooden plug of the
thickness of a man's leg ; there is a hole
here, and the plug is all that we have to
keep out the sea
Immense wealih 01 metal is contained
in the roof of thisgallei v, throughout its
whole length : but it remains, and always.
will remain',-untouched ; the miners dare
not take it, for it js part, and a great part
of the rock which forms their only protec
tion against the sea , and -.which has been
so far worked away here, that its thickness
is limited to an average of three feet only
between the water and the gallery in which
we now stand. No one knows whatniight
be the consequence of another day 's labor'
with the pick-axe on any part of it. '
We sometimes meet with men who
seem to think that 'any indulgence in an
affectionate feeling is a weakness. They
will return from a journey, -and greet their
families with a disiant tliriity , ;.::d r.iove
among their clniur. n with the cold and
lofty splendor of an iceberg', sunouncled
by its broken fragments. There ;s httrcHy
a-more, unnatural sight on earth, than one
of those families without a heart. A fa
ther had better extinguish a boy's eyes
than take away his heart. ' 1 Who that .has
experienced the joys . f friendship, and
values sympathy and a flection, would not
rather lose all that is beautiful in nature's,
scenery, than be robbed of the hidden treas
ure of his heart ! Cherish, then, your
heart's best affections. Indulge in the
warm and gushing emotions' of filial, par
ental, and fraternal love. Think it not it
weakness. God is love. 1 Jove God, eve
rybody, and everything that is lovely.
Teach your children to love ; to love the
rose, the robin : to love their parents ; to
love their God. Let it be the '-studied ob-
ject of their domestic culture to give them
warm. hearts, ardent affections. Hind your
whole family together by these stong cords.
You cannot make them too strong. Re
ligion is love ; lpve to God, love to man.
Some years ago. somebody .offered a re
ward for an individual who always minded
his own business, : Whether the reward
was ever claimed or not is a matter of little
consequence at present the olfer itself was
a very good hit at a very general propensi
ty on the part of a large portion of mankind
to meddle with that which does not concern
them, or as is generally expressed mind
ing every body's business bat their own.
There is no practice so annoying, nor one
which is more insulting, whether toe med
dlesomeness is in the form of gratuitous
services of any kind in his business from a-
ny but his most intimate friends, and rare'y
from those. In the next", when we
desire advice or assistance of others, he al
ways know where to apply to get tiie prop
er kind of aid or counsel he may need.
Every man is presumed to be the best judge
of his own business, and he certainly has
the strongest motives for making himself
thoroughly acquainted with it. Interest is
on one side to prompt his intelligence, and
pecuniary undertakings, on the other, to
make him circumspect and cautious, and
to arouse his judgment. To officiously in
terfere w ith his business is therefore an im
pudent assumption cf better knowledge,
which is seldom w arranted by the facts, and
generally prompted by inordinate self con
ceit and assurance, -Philadelphia Ledger ,
Silver Mine in1. Virginia .
A valuable silver mine, it is supposed,
has been discovered on the farm or Messrs
James and Dennis McSherry, of Jefferson
county, Va., situated on the east bank of
the Shenandoah River, and at. the base of
die Blue Ridge mountain. The Spirit of
Jefferson says : '
The mine was discovered some month
since, and a small specimen obtained and
forwarded to the Philadelphia Mint to be
assayed. The Superintendent of the mint
has returned the same, made into a ten cent
piece, and pronounces the ore as exceeding
ly rich. The ledge of rocks in which the
ore is impregnated, is of immense size, and
if the ore yet to be taken tout should prove
as rich as that already tested , it will rank
as among tlie mostprpductive silver mines
of tlie .'country. Every three pounds of
rock; it 13 estimated , will yield one dollar
in silver. v Arrangements have been made
for at once mining, and but a very short
time will demonstrate the advantages of
the discovery. v
An Intelligent gentlern-Mi of fortune vis
ited a country village in Maine, not very
far from Bangor, and was. hospitably enter
tained and lodge;! by a gentleman having
three daughters -two of whom in rich dress
es, entertained the distinguished
iii the parlor, while one kept herself in he
kitchen, assisting her mother in preparing
the food aad settiug the table for tea, and
after supper in loing the work till it was
fully completed : when she also joined her
sisters in the parlor for .the remainder .of the
;f"!mi? li;e-. .next monmig ti same 1
daughter was again early, iu tiio liliLL. k,
while the other two were in the parlor.
The gentleman, like Erai-klin possessed a.
discriminating mind was a 'close' observer
of the habits of the young ladies watched
an opportunity and whispered somethi
in the ear of. the industrious one, and then
left for a time : but revisited the same fan
and in about one year the yuuna lad vol
the kitchen was conveyed 'to', Boston, the
wife of the ""gentlemanly visiter, where she
now presides at an elegant mansion. The
gentleman, whose fortune she shares, she
won by a judicious deportment and well di
rected industry. So much for an industrious
young lady. Bangor H7;r.
Mr. A. kept his hens shut tip. lie w as
not goiiiijr to have his garden destroyed by
his own or his neighbor's hens. One morn
ing he saw a couple digging in his early
pea bed, and went with murder in his heart,
but the hens fiew. over into his neighbor IPs
garde:;. '..whereupon A. called ever to him
.Very. angrily that he would shoot the ne.t
hon he saw on his side of thiv fence,, if he
did not shut them no ' which B. declared he
would not do, 'ami if A., was a too! to shoot
tiiem, he might do it, for all he "cared,"
I A. was as "good as his word. .11 J day after
j day B. w;as saluted w ith the sine!! of gun
j powder, snd a message thrown over the
j fence1.- with everv fat pullet. "There's -an
.tier chicken for your dinner ;'' until
length, not finding the usual supnlv,
called over one morning to 1 neighbor 1 A.
to know the reason. This awakened in
quiry, was discovered that A. had
been shooting his own hens as they occa
sionai'y escapl through a hole in the coop,
rd i" J:-is hn rer :tt his neighbor1 for '.the
tresjns , :':.;,..!. :d ii:t;. 1 sundry
goott dinners. No doubt he w as a little
mad at lirst, and thought 'any cunning trick
after th::t better than shooting his neighbor's
hens. 117. : Commercial.-
Self-energy is the true life of a. man.-
To think by other's is no true living;
to believe by-other men's belief, is no true
living iltiih. The mind nius;, by its own
iudc'pen'dcht exertions, seek, and, so far as
its native powers will enable it, arrive at
the modes and. causes of the trsi'Ji of those
proposiiions it receives us truthsor subsran
iially, it will think and believe nothing.
Neisher will the propositions exist for it ;
nor for ihetn. They will he noneatities,
and it will onlv dream of understanding
ithem. 'Exchange I'ajier
The Useful more enduring than the
The tomb cf Moses is unknown ; but the
traveller slakes his thirst at ihe well 01
Jacob. The gorgeous-palace of .the wisest
and wealthiest of nionarc's, with the cedar
and gold, and ivory, even the great temple
of Jerusalem .hallowed by the visibleglory of
the Deity himself, are gone ; but Solomon's
reservoirs arc as pefect as ever. Of the
ancient architecture of the Holy City, not
one stone is left upon anoiher ; but the
pool. of B'ethseda commands the pilgrim's
reverence at the present day. The col
umns of Persepolis are 'mouldering into
dust ; but. its cisterns and aqueducts remain
to challenge our admiration. The gulden
house of Nero 's a mass of rums ; but the
Aqua Cluadia still pours into Rome its
liquid stream. The Temple of Tadnior,
in the wilderness, has fallen ; but its foun
tain sparkle's us freshly in his rays a.j when
thousands "of worshippers thronged its lofty
colonnades. It may be that London will
share the fate of Babylon, -and nothing be
left to mark its site save mounds of crumbling-
brick-work.- ' ;
The Thames will continue to flow as
it. docs now ; and if any work of art should
still rise Over the deep ocean 01 lime, we
may well believe that it. will be neither. -a
palace or a temple, nut some vast acque
duct or resivoir ; and if any name should
still flash thronh the' midst of antiquity,
it will probably be that of the man
who in his day sought the happiness of
his fellow-men raiher than their glorv, and
linked his memory to some great Work of
national utility and benevolence. This
is the true glory -which outlives all others,
and shines with undying lustre from gen
eration to generation, imparting to works
something of its own immortality, and in
some degree rescuing them from the ruin
which'-overtakes the ordinary monuments
ot historical tradition of mere magnificence,
Edinburgh Itccicw.
RarnujI Outdoxk. -The Madison Cour
ier relates the following piece of financiering.
McElevey, the taylor w ho bought the prize
ticket to jenny Lind's first concert in Cin
cinnati, is one ot the few men m the world
who are as sharp as Barnum. The w ay he,
worked things w as this j for some days be
fore the concert he went around among his
friends, betting ten dollars with this one,
twenty dollars with that one, - and sO 'on,
until he had a thousand dollars bet that he
would bay the prize ticket. The ticket
was knocked down to him at $575, thus
leaving him $425 in pock ci.
From tho Nhv Ywl; Ex;!v.-;.s.
The readers of the Express were not a
little amused upon rending t!ie report of
tli a indisfiiation tittered by our. Irih Lrt .-litre
n over the accusation msds by Sir Hex
rv BcLWEr.,:fhat the (,'e'ts once went waii-
! ollt pantaloons: being tenii-!.a;borous, senii-
clad, tec. Sir iJ e.nry lieanng oJ lias ris
ing indignation ot'liis countrymen, wrote a
note to Mr.IJEt.L,- the President, of the
friendly .Sn of St. PAtuick, apologising;
and I3ell wrote a net's to the Chnirrnr.n of
the Shakspeare-meeting, setting forth that
Sir KtXT.Y himself is: descended from n
Welsh Celt, and his wife is the daughter of
an j Irish in aii. .Nevertheless, the meeting
gave Sir Henry's letter three rfroai.s, and
: it w as read amid the cries tnat "he wants tc
i get o!F through his ' wifu being an Iriahvvo
i man." Mr. Michael Poheny. who caiin
! over here soon niter the, last Irish !burt-up.
and who has not been llieie mor;; than a
, jear or two aia put n 1:1.0 sir ueury iuiwer
in the most 'approved j Dublin sfyle. Ji had
a 'right.-. They arej coininoh country
men, a?id this is a frio tonutry t abust-
any body in. But what' Mr. Dohcuy should
na ve vvaiieti lor iiiiie aiii
what lie. did not wait for, he
to do, and vet
introduced a memorial, pr
ldent oftiie United StatV..-
hig for the Pres
to ask that the
i1 British Minister be recalled, or in case of
j his not being recalled, tint he gie him his
j walking ticket. Xovv Mike being ait A
' nu rican undoubted anil Jo tho riancr born,
'might petition Mr. Fillmore with a good
j grace lor any sort of decently saucy thing ;
but we have some douhtt whether the Presi
, dent or his Secteta.-y of jStaie will pay as
much attention now to the memorial as if it
had been put t'orwaid by; Mike, or his a!ju-
taut at tlie meeting. Mr. KJmi).
j Two Spanish officer recently met to
(-fight a duel outside the gates atUilboa,
! after the seconds had failed to reconcile .tin
I belligerents. 'We. wish' to litrht to light
; to death,' they replied Jo tlie reprcsenta-
1 I ii 1! is-o? I heir coori;it lionsi I f mop lent
I a jKior fellow looking like the rhosf of
j Romeo's apothecary, approached the 'sec
j ontls, and hi a kimetrahie; voice. said, ;(ien
I tlemen, I am a poor artisan, with a large
: familv, and if you wotj'd ' 4 Mv good man.
! cion t t' j
:c Ci-
ficers, 'tiont you see my ;JV
to split each other? We
iire gr.lii
r.ct in a
I charitable humcr.
! for,' sitid the man :
'It is not alms I osk
'I 'am- a poor cnipen-
1 ter, th eight .children, and ;uy wife is
sick ; and having heard that those gentle
man were about to kid each oilier; I ti
of asking you to let. 1110 make the coll sir.
At these words the individuals about to
commence the combat buret into a loud lit
of laughter, and simultaneously throwing
down their swords, shook hands with each
oilier, and walked away, j
Sorihrm Elin or .
"Good Joke. ox a Widower.
A correspondent at 'Holly' Springs, Mis
sissippi, lellsthe following and vouche's for
its truth.. It is the best joke we have heard
of lately. It appears that a widower in
that town, of a somewbat'gallant disposi
tion, had been accustomed to visit the resi
dence of the widow M -, whether to see
the amiable widow herself, or her lovely
daughters, our informant did not know. .
One evening he found the family party
hard at. work on some garments of cloth.
The girls were sewing, and tlie widow w as
nressintr the seams. The widower "hung
j up his hat," as usual, and touk bis seat
1 ! 1 1 10 li rr int n t i 1 1:11 t te wit i.'iwi i;td done.
I. With the presbiiig iron (vr.lgo,
or tailor s
1 t
! iroose.'i . She set it du'.vn kui
the hcarih.
land called to her negr.o man in a loud
voice " Jake ! Jnke ! coue.'and take out
I liis goose " . J
The widower started up with astonish
ment, not knowing w hat to make of this
abrupt order. I
"Jake! do you hear" again ex
claimed the widow. ! "
' "I befg our pardon, jMns. 31.," said the
widowef with visible agitation, "but pray
don't call Jake if you widi me to leave
your housej I will go at once, and without
the interference of servants'."'
The ladies roared wi'h the laughing, and
it took some moments to (explain 10 ihe
cliagfined widower his mistake. He litis
not been known to visit the widow ,L
since that memorable evening.
In a joUy coi .ipany each i-ne was to ask
a question ; if it was ansv. tred, he paid a
forfeit ; or if he could not autwer it himself,
he paid a forfeit. Pat's .question was,
"How the little ground squirrel digs his.
hole without showing any i dirt about the
entrance I" When they all gave it up,
Pat said, "Sure do you seS, lie begins at
the other end of the ho!e.M One f the
rest exclaimed, "but howj does he get
there V "An," said Pat, "that's the que,
lion :cah j oit answer it yourself 1 7 : . '
Interesting From Hayti. Boston
May 1st 10t o'clock,' P. M. The school
ner October, from Port an Prince, Avith ad
vices to April 13th, arrived hrc to-day.;
Itwras currently reported at St. Domingo
rttat the Chambers had refused to comply
with the demands of the American Com
missioner, "of to make peace, L'mperor
Sotilouque waf preparing 'to ' march on
Cape Ilaytien to punish the 'black "Prince
Babo, who ' refused to comply with the
imperial maniiates. iume last account.
Babo was shut out from Cape Ilaytien.
and had but few men with hini

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