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TO THE HEROES OF '76.
Disturb them not, but let them rest,
Beneath the willow tree;
Wave o'er their graves the stars and. stripes,
The ensign of the free;
Long did they toil for freedom,—
Fought on land and sea,
At Bunker Bill they proved their worth,
'Heath the stripes of Liberty.
At Brandywine they showed their zeal
Their blessed cause to gain,
And at the siege of old Quebec,
Where Montgomery was slain
And on the sea, the deep blue sea,
With brigs and privateers,
They scourged old Britain's bravest men,
And finished their cascara.
Now the star-spangled banner waves in triumph above
The home of the brave and the free,
Old England is conquered, we are free from her thralls,
Our .ships are the pride of the sea :
Then long let the red, white and blue wave its folds,
To the breast of the eagle transfix,
The glittering, shield—the gcni clearly won
By the Iferues of '7O.
MY FIRST TEMPTATION
A Story for Young Men
At an early age I lost my father, and as he
left us with little of the world's goods it be
came necessary that I should seek some em
ploymeat. I was then thirteen years of age,
.and nut very stout or strong, but yet with a
will to do anything that could be found for
me to do. At length my mother made an ar
rangement with a carpenter by the name of
Morris, and I was taken into his shop as an
apprentice. With him I remained two years,
but at the end of that time I became so worn
down by the hard work imposed upon me,
that my mother resolved that I should remain
there no longer. My sister Lucy, who was
two years older than myself, had long detect
ed my failing strength,—and it was mainly
through her influence that I was removed
from the place, for I should never have com
I was now fifteen—tall, slim and pale, and
I knew that I could not stand any sort of
work which taxed my physical strength to
any great extent. But fortune favored me.
A Mr. Johnson Evered, who kept a dry goods
store near by, was in want of a salesman ' and
through my sister's influence, I obtained the
place. Mr. Evered had a daughter Julia,
about my own age who was very intimate
with Lucy, and it was by her intercession
with her father that Lucy gained her point.
- I was duly installed in my place; and was
soon happy and contented, fbr my employer
was kind, and anintimacy sprang up between
myself and Julia, which offered tne purer
bliss than I ever before experienced. Thus
matters passed on for a year, and at the end
of that time my health was restored. I had
so far gained upon the confidence of Mr. Ev
ered that he trusted me with some of his most
important business.. Only one thing troubled
me. fact, I was not receiving such wa
ges as I fancied my services entitled me to.
- In fact, I was in debt. I purchased a suit of
clothes of a tailor in the neighborhood, and
was owinc , for them. The tailor wanted his
money, and I promised him he should have
it at a certain time, but that time came and
passed, and I could not pay him. Ile threat
ened, and I promised. anew. How many
times I wished I had never bought those
clothes., I could have got along without them
and I resolved that never again would I buy
anything which I could not pay for on the
spot. But that did not help the case.
One evening I sat alone in the store. It
was Saturday evening, and the day had been
a busy ono. We had sold a great quantity of
goods; and the money drawer was well filled.
Slowly a demon rose before me, and began to
advise me. Ile pointed to the money drawer
and whispered, "there is means of paying
your debt." I knew that Mr. Evered had no
knowledge of the amount of money there, for
ho knew not how much I had sold. I could
have taken fifty dollars, and he might never
miss it, for I had sold a, great quantity of
stuff which he had no account of. I had
promised the tailor that he should have the
money that very night, and I had planned to
get Mr. Evered to advance nie the necessary
sum. I had not been spending My money
foolishly, but from my pittance I supported
my mother, and that ate it all up.
For a long while I sat and looked upon that
drawer, and all the while the tempter was
persuading me. I knew that young clerks
sometimes did such things, and that some
times necessity compelled them to it; at least
so I then thought. how could I meet my
creditor again without the money . ? I could
not, and at length I resolved that I would not.
I arose and went to the drawer. I opened it
and saw the bank notes which had been fair
brjanimed in there, and counted out twenty
dollars. 'My hand trembled and my heart
beat quickly. I thrust the notes into my
pocket, and then hastened back to my seat,
and ere long afterwards my employer enter
" Well, Charles," said he, "I guess we'll
shut up now."
I arose and went out and put the shutters
up, and when I came back I found Evered
engaged in counting the money. As I . ap
proached him, lie eyed me with a sharp search
ing look, and I trembled like an aspen.
"What ails you ?" he asked:
"Nothing, sir," I answered, trying to com
• " But there must be something the matter,"
he resumed, "for you look as pale as a ghost."
"I am tired," said I.
" Well, well, you have worked hard to-day,
and you may go. I'll attend to the rest."
With a desperate endeavor to compose my
self, I thanked him for his kindness,
left the store. The fresh air revived me some
what, and I hurried on to the tailor's and
paid my bill, and for a moment my heart was
light, but it was only for a moment. When
I reached the street again, the thought of
what I bad done came upon me with an over
whelming force, and I was miserable. When
I reached home I professed to be sick and re-
tired at once. But my mother sick and weak
herself, came up to my bed, and wanted to
give me some medicine. She gave me a sim
ple preparation, drew up the clothes snugly
about me, and having, kissed me, she said:
" Be careful, Charles for 'twould be pain
ful indeed to have you sick. God keep and
bless you. Good night."
Oh, how those last words rang in my ears.
What would my mother say—how would she
feel—if she knew her son was a—thief! It
was a long while before I could give the word
shape or form, but it came at last. I could
not keep it back, thief! thief! rang . in my
*soul till an agony was upon me so intense
that all other conceptions of ,pain were as
nothing. The night passed away in sleep
less, phantom-making restlessness, and when
the morning came, f arose and walked out
before my mother or sister were up. I did
not return until breakfast time, and then I
had so overcame all outward signs of my dis
tress, that little remark was made upon it.—
But the worm was gnawing at my heart.
That afternoon I went with my sister to
meeting, and as I entered the little church,
I met the gaze of Mr. Evered. Ile watched
me sharply, and I saw marks of pain on his
After the services were over, I saw him in
conversation,with the tailor. I noticed how
earnest they spoke—and once I saw the tailor
pointing his finger towards me. .
I felt sure, then, that all was discovered.
" For mercy sake, Charles, what is the
matter?" cried Lucy, as she caught my arm.
" Ile's faint ! he's faint!" I heard a low
tremulous voice, and on turning, saw Julia
Evered. She was frightened and at that mo
ment came the conviction that she loved me,
but the other thought came with it, and 1
knew that she would ere long despise me.
Sick and faint I hurried away, and to all
the anxious inquiries of Lucy, I only replied
that I was not well. Oh how miserable I
felt for I knew that my employer bad detect
ed the theft. His gaze at ine in church was
proof enough, but his conversation with the
tailor made it sure. That afternoon I dared
not go to church, and my mother worried
over me. If she would only have let me alone,
I might have been less miserable ; but she
clung close to um, and I had to lie to her—
the first falsehood I ever spoke to that noble
Another night of restless agony, and then
I came to the severest part of all. I must
meet my employer. It was late when I de
ecended to the kitchen, and I found my mo
ther as pale and deathly as death itself. For
a moment I forgot my own pain, and hasten
asp- an - my 111 Ce
with such a look, as I hope I may never see
" Don't ask me any questions,, Charles,"
she Said, " but go at once to the store. Mr.
Evered wants you immediately."
I could not ask a question—l could not
speak—without breakfast—without waiting
to see Luey—l started from the house. Peo
ple whom I met gazed at me sharply, and
once I heard the word thief pronounced.—
Oh, Evered had told the story of my crime.
flow could he? No, no, 'twas the tailor who
had told it, Ihr my employer would never
have done it. Yet it was known. I stopped
and suddenly the thought of flight occurred
to me. Why should I stay longer where
shame and shame only, could be mine ? I
turned to flee, and then my sister came rush
ing after me, with her hair floating wildly on
the morning air, and her face as pale as death.
"Oh ! Charles !" she uttered, "come with
me at.once. Come, come, our mother is dy
My sister seized my hand, and by force
dragged me away. I reached my home, I
knew not how, for reason had almost left me.
Into the little Led room Lucy dragged me,
and there lay - my mother stark and cold.
"Oh Charles, you have killed her!" sobbed
Lucy, as she threw herself upon the bed.—
"She could not stand your disgracel"
One moment I gazed upon that pale, cold
face, and then a wild earthly cry broke from
my lips. I plunged madly forward upon the
"Charles I Charles I"
I started t`p. I felt a heavy hand upon my
shoulder, and again my name was called.
" What is the matter ? Come, rouse up.—
For mercy's sake, what ails you ?"
It was Evered who spoke. I was still sit
ting on the stool behind the counter, but my
head bad fallen forward upon a pile of goods
that lay heaped up before me. Instinctively
I cast my eyes upon the money drawer, and
slowly the truth worried itself to my mind.
A cold clammy sweat was upon by . brow, 'a
pain in my limbs, and. I trembled like an
What ails you, Charles 2" Mr. Evered
" My soul such a dream !" I involuntarily
gasped. " Well, it's nothing worse
than that lem glad. But come, I want to
have a few words of conversation with you
before you g 0.."
I was full aroused now. I looked at the
money drawer, though many times ere I
could realize that I was safe. The tempter
had come, but an angel had mot and beaten
him away. The doors and shutters were
closed, and thenzuy employer sat down by
"Well, Charles," he commenced, "Julia
has been telling me this afternoon that you
wholly support your mother.
• "Yes, sir," I tremblingly answered, "My
sister, thus far, has been able to support her
self, and the rest comes on me."
"But how do you get along? Surely your
salary here is not sufficient"
"It has been sufficient, sir, to find . us in
food and fuel. For—for clothing I have—"
"Run in debt,- eb ?"
" Yes, sir ; but I will never do it again, I
will go ragged, if need be, but I will not run
"Right, right," my boy. But we will fis
that all right, I have been thinking for some
time of increasing your pay, and I will do so
now—not only so, but I must put it back to
when I first thought of it, and that was three
months ago. Let's- see. Three dollars a
week for fifteen weeks, would be thirty-vino
dollars," be said. "Will that square you
"Oh, yes, sir, and more too I"
"Then you shall have that, and hereafter
you shall have that amount over each quar
He said something more about making me
his head clerk sometime, but I did not fully
understand him. Ireceived the money, paid
the tailor, and when I had reached my home,
I had become calm and happy. I told my
mother and Lucy of my good fortune, and
they wept for joy.
Yet I could not help shuddering fearfully
whenever I thought of that terrible vision
which came upon me while the tempter was
with me. But—let me say this again—'twas
an angel's visit.
Years have passed away since that time.—
Mr. Evered is an old man—my children are
his grandchildren, and the store that was his
is now half mine. Ile has retired, and the
other half of his extensive building belongs
to Lucy's husband. My mother still lives,
and, thank God, can yet bless her son that lie
has never yet called one drop of sorrow to
her life cup.
A Wandering Tribe of Siberia.
Though Siberia in its general features, is
better known to us than many places of more
importance, yet we are but little acquainted
with the peculiar traits of character that dis
tinguish its native tribes, amongst whom,
perhaps, there is not one more distinctively
marked by its singular customs and tradi=
tions than that of the Ostyacks.
Their temples are the summits of certain
mountains, to which they never ascend with
out fear and reverence. They believe that
the dead are, in another world, subject to the
same wants as the living in this, for which
reason the clothes of each individual are bu
ried with him, and a deer is slaughtered over
his grave to supply him with food.
With the exception of the " waywodes,"
who are appointed by the government of Rus
sia to collect the taxes, &c., there is neither
chief nor superior among these people, nor
is any distinction made as to rank, birth or
quality, the father of each family being its
head and ruler.
The Ostyacks, as we have already stated,
believe in the immortality of the soul, but
their ideas on this subject are very confused;
they are persuaded that the bear possesses an
imperishable spirit as well as themselves, and
they believe that thi n s T AlKens.
pursuat z , yams g ear - for Any vioia
tion of good faith. This superstition leads
to sonic sing Oar customs ; we give the follow
ing as an instance:
Notwithstanding their belief in the immor
tality of the bear, they take great delight in
hunting it. As soon as:they succeed in kill
ing one, they cut off the head and skin, and
hang them on a tree, round which they march
several times in procession, as if to do honor
to the slaughtered animal. They then sur
round the carcase, uttering loud cries and
lamentations. "Who are they that deprive
thee of life ?" they exclaim in a melancholy
chorus; and some of them answer for the
"who cut off thy head?"
" A Russian,
with his hatchet."
" Who ripped thee open?"
" A Russian with his knife."
"Oh I 'twas a cruel and blood-thirsty deed,"
they cry with one voice. "Yet we entreat
thy forgiveness for him."
After this, they are persuaded the spirit of
the hear, while wandering through the woods,
will seek to take vengeance on a Russian and
not on an Ostvack.
The waywolles take advantage of this su
perstition, while exacting from the Ostyacks
the oath of fidelity, to the crown of Russia;
they cause them to assemble on a spot, on
which the skin of a bear has been spread,
-with a hatchet, a knife, and a piece of bread
placed on it; a small portion of bread is
handed to each individual, but before he pro
nounces the following words :
"If I do not all my life continue faithful
to the emperor, if I rebel against him or re
fuse to yield the honor and obedience which
are his due, if I offend him in any manners
whatever, may the spirit of this bear tear me
limb from limb, may this bread that I am
about to eat stop in my throat, and choke me;
may this knife rip me open, and this hatchet
chop off my head."
Such is, their oath, and so sacred do they
consider it when taken under these circum
stances, that they have never been known to
violate it, even when under religious excite
Ignorant as they are, a principle of honesty
prevails among them that would do honor to
a more enlightened people. The following
anecdote will afford a proof of this:
A _Russian merchant travelling from Tob
olsk to Berezov, stopped at Ostyack, where he
spent the night ; on the following morning, he
resumed his journey, but had not proceeded
far when he dropped his purse, which con
tained the sum of one hundred rubles. Un
conscious of his loss, ho continued his way,
while the son of his host, passing, the spot
shortly after, saw
_the purse lying on the
ground, and stopped to examine it; having
gratified his curiosity, he left it where it lay,
and returned to his father's cabin ; here he
mentioned the circumstance,. remarking at
the same time that he had left the purse on
the road where he found it.
"You did right, child," said the father,
"but you must now hasten back,'and cover
it over with the branch of a tree, to conceal
it from the eyes of those who may be passing
that way ; and then, should the owner return
to look for it, he will find it just where he
The boy did as he was desired, and the
purse lay hid among leaves and branches for
more than three months, when the merchant
who had. lost it, returning from Brezov, went
again to lodge with his, old acquaintance, the
Ostyack, to whom he mentioned the misfor
tune he had met with the last time he was
HUNTINGDON, PA., DECEMBER 17, 1856.
"Oh, it was you that lost the purse, then,"
exclaimed the Ostyack, in great delight at
discovering the owner of it ; " well make
yourself easy about it; my son shall show
you the spot where it lies, and you can go
and pick it up yourself." Accordingly, the
merchant recovered his property.
Reindeer are used by some of these people
for drawing their sledges, but most of them
prefer dogs for this purpose. From six to
twelve of these animals are tackled to a
sledge, which they draw along with amazing
velocity. Dog posts are established in these
regions similar to the mails of Europe, with
regular relays of dogs from stage to stage;
four of these creatures can draw a sledge,
loaded with three hundred weight, a distance
of twelve or fifteen leagues in a day.
An Ostyack has but little difficulty in pro
viding himself with dress ; if be is in want
of a coat, he strips a deer of its skin, and
without being over nice, wraps in it while
yet warm from the animal. A covering for
the head is as easily procured—a wild goose
is shot, and its skin is converted into a cap;
sometimes the skin of the deer is fashioned
into a loose coat, and ornamented with bands
of stuff or leather of different colors. During
winter and the rainy season a fur cap is worn
which envelopes the head, and leaves only a
part of the face exposed. Shoes, stockings,
and trowsers form a kind of pantaloons in
one single piece. This latter article of dress
is generally made of the skin of the sturgeon.
The skin of the bear is used for mourning.—
The dress of the women differs but little from
that of the men, except in the ornaments
which their vanity or the desire to please
leads them to add to it. Their head dresses
are composed of bands of different colors,
twilled round the head in such a manner as
almost entirely to conceal the face.
Scarlet is the favorite color among the peo
ple of Siberia generally, and. the wearing of,
this color is considered a certain mark of op
Singular Theory of the Mississippi River.
The Mississippi river is the greatest stream
in the world. Its total length. is 4000 miles.
On looking over a volume recently issued,
entitled " - Lloyd's Steamboat and Railroad
Directory," we find the following instructive
article on the waste of the waters of the Mis
sissippi. It says:
No experience will enable a person to an
ticipate with any degree of certainty, the ele
vation of the flood in any given year. In
some seasons, the waters do not rise above
t their channels ; in others - the entire lower
gall V .19 , f th;e.-3 ,4 aa;, - .:71; 3cl
- haulm - lents called levees - have been 'raised
from five to ten feet high, on both sides of
the stream, extending many miles above and
below New Orleans. By this means the riv
er is restrained within its proper limits, ex
cept at the greatest freshets, when the waters
sometimes break over every thing, causing
great destruction to property, anesometimes
loss of life. The average height of the flood
from the Delta to the junction of the Missou
ri, is about sixteen feet. At the mouth of
the latter river it is twenty-five feet. Below
the entrance of the Ohio river the rise is
often fifty-five feet.
At Natchez, it seldom exceeds thirty feet;
and at New Orleans about twelve feet.
What goes with the water? It is known
.that the difference between high and low
water mark, as high up as White river, is
about thirty-six feet and the current at high
water mark runs near seven rniles.per hour,
and opposite to New Orleans the difference
between high and low water mark is only
twelve feet, and the current little over three
miles to the hour.—The width and depth of
the river being the same, from which we cal
culate that nearly six times as much water
passes by the mouth of White river as by
New Orleans. What goes with the excess?
The only solution ever offered, is, that it
escapes by the bayous " Plaquemine," " La
fourche," and " Iberville," but when we cal
culate the width, depth and current of these
bayous, they fall vastly short of affording a
sufficient escapement. The true explanation
can, we think, be given.
At low water, throughout the whole ex
tent, we see a land. structure exposed, under
lying the bank, or that the alluvial structure
on ich the plantations _are, is a structure
of deposit made by the river above its low
water mark, diminishes and nearly corres
ponds to it, and wherever the bottom is ex- '
posed it shows throughout the whole extent
that the bottom is pare coarse sand;
ing at many places the ocean shingle, through
the superimposed alluvial structure mixed
with fine sand. The water percolates with
Such facility and rapidity that the water in a
well dug at a considerable distance from the
river bank, rises and falls with the rise and
fall of the river, not varying an inch, and
through the coarse sand and shingles of the
bottom, it passes as rapidly as through a
By the accurate surveys of several scienti
fic engineers, it is ascertained that the fall of
the Mississippi river is four inches to the
mile. The distance from Natchez to New
Orleans of three hundred miles will give
twelve hundred inches, or one hundred feet.
The depth of the river is less than fifty feet
at high water mark. The river debouches
into the ocean from a promontory made - by
itself. The surface of the ocean, by measure
ment, below the bottom of the river, above
New Orleans, corresponds with the low water
mark below - ew Orleans, therefore the Mis
sissippi river is pouring through its own bot
tom into the ocean, the super-imposed weight
giving lateral pressure to hurry the subterra
nean current. If the reader has ever stood
upon a Mississippi sand bar in a hard rain,
or seen water poured from a bucket on the
sand-bar, he has seen that neither can be
done in sufficient quantity to produce any
current or accumulation on the surface.—
The river is, therefore, from the time it conies
below the limestone stratas of Missouri and
Kentucky, wasting itself through its own
If the Mississippi river had to pursue its
course like the Ohio, over rocky straits, wal
led in by rock and impervious clay banks,
the high water mark at New Orleans- would
reach one hundred feet above its present lim
its ; but running over coarse sand, - walled in
by a deposit made of sand, ancient deluvial
detritus and vegetable mound, no more water
reaches the ocean than the excess over the
amount that permeates the surrounding struc
ture and passes of in the process of percola
tion or transperation in a. subterranean de
scent to the ocean. The river, without any
other restraint from rock or clay in the bot
tom or bank, is left free to the government
of no other law than the law of hydrostatics.
The washing or wasting of the banks cannot
be prevented, though the caving or sliding
of large portions at one time may be easily
Tadleyrand's ingratitude toward Madame
de Stael may appear inexcusable—it certain
ly was not in any way creditable. But, in
extenuation, it may well be borne in mind
that she possessed an excess of that suscep
tibility - which made her overvalue her suc
cess, and never cease bringing her services
to the memory of the person obliged. He
had never the same high opinion of her which
the world professed. He thought her style
pedantic and affected, and would complain,
when any of her compositions were read to
him, of their total want of nature and of
true coloring. He was accustomed to say
that those who read the writings might fairly
boast of knowing the writer, for that nothing
could more resemble Madame de Stael her
self than the false, exaggerated sentiments
and superficial erudition of her compositions.
Of her mother, Madame Necker, he once re
marked, "She has every virtue, and but ono
fault; and that is, she is insupportable!"—
The good lady never forgave his comparing
her "to a frigate riding at anchor, and re
ceiving a salutefrom a friendly power," when
she stood upon her own hearth-rug at the Ho
tel Necker, upon the occasion of her weekly
receptions; her ample proportions obscuring
the light of the fire, as, with pinched-up fea
tures and prudish smile, she listened to the
compliments of the academicians, whom she
assembled but for the delight of her own van
ity H .
e related to his friends an amusing ad
venture of Madame de Stael herself, in which
he was a party. It occurred upon her first
entrance into Parisian society, before the Rev
olution, at a rural fete, given by Madame Hel
vetius in the garden of her chateau. His
account is thus repeated by one of these
"On her first appearance at the reunion,
bred-courtesy, paid lier
tendon, but having other guests to welcome,
had left her, after awhile, to superintend the
distribution of the amusement about the
&rounds. Once or twice she bad passed Made
male de Sta,cl sitting gloomily on the bench
where she bad left her, and at last sent Tal
leyrand to keep her company. But Talley
.rand had tact enough to know that, being
himself no literary lion, he was no company
for Madame de Stael, and. so immediately
went in quest of society more congenial to
her taste. He soon returned, in company
with the Abbe Monti ; whose poems were at
that time the rage all over Europe, and whose
coming put the fair authoress in the best of
humors. Talleyrarod sat down on the bench
beside them, in silence, feeling himself quite
extinguished by so much talent, and remain=
ed a passive listener, anxious for improve
ment. The conversation was overwhelming
with erudition, and then the compliments
were poured forth like rain from an April
sky. The abbe 'had never reckoned upon so
great an honor as that of meeting the first
writer of the age;' Madame 'little dreamed
when she arose that morning, that the day
would be marked by so auspicious an event
as the meeting with the abbe.'
"' I have devoured every word that has es
caped from Sappho's pen,' said the abbe.
"' I cannot sleep until Tread the charming
odes from the Italian Tyrtwas,' said the lady.
"'Have you seen my last endeavor?' said
" Alas I not yet,' sighed the lady, 'although
report speaks of it more highly than of any
which have preceded it.'
I have it here 1 exclaimed the abbe, ea
gerly drawing a small volume from his pock
et. 'Allow me to present it to you, madame;
a poor homage, indeed, to so much genius,
but it may prove interesting to one who has
had so much success in heroic poetry.'
" "Thanks, thanks,' cried Madame de Stael,
seizing the little volume with every demon
stration of overpowering gratitude. 'This is
indeed a treasure, and will be prized by me
far beyond gold or jewels.'
" She turned over the leaves slowly, - while
the delighted abbe watched her with a charm
ing self-complacency—then suddenly drop
ping it into her lap, she exclaimed, turning ,
on the abbe a languid glance, 'You were talk
ing of heroic poetry, dear abbe ; have you
seen my , last attempt—a dramatic scene,
" l'Exile"—a slight and poor imitation of
seine of your own
" I have not been so blessed as to obtain
a copy,' replied the abbe.
"'How fortunate that I should have one in
my reticule?' said madame, hurriedly seizing
the strings of the bag suspended from her
arm, and drawing forth a thin volume in
boards. The abbe bent low over it as she
presented it, and kissing it with reverence,
placed it by his side, and the conversation—
that is to say, the complimenting—was con
tinued with redoubled vigor.
" Talleyrand then departed, and did not
return till the company broke up, when he
found that they had both left the bench where
on they had been seated so long together,
leaving, however, the `precious treasures,'
which they had received from each other with
so much gratitude, behind them 1 Talley
rand seized upon them with inexpressible de
light, thinking that they would furnish mat
ter for innocent jeering, when the loss came
to he remembered by either party. But the
thing was complete—they were never sought
and never asked for, and he has them now in
his library, and loves to show them as he
tells the story of their coming into his pos
Editor aud. Proprietor.
Talleyrand and De Stael.
Meeting of Gates and Burgoyne.
In Irving's Life of Washington we find this
" Wilkinson in his memoirs, describes the
first meeting of Gates and Burgoyne, which
took place at the head of the American camp.
They were attended by their staffs, and by
other general officers. Burgoyne was in a
rich royal uniform: Gates in a plain blue
frock. When they approached nearly Within
sword's length, they reined up and halted :
"The fortune of war, Gen: Gates, has made
me your prisoner," said Burgoyne; to which
the other, returning his salute, replied, "I
shall always be ready to testify that it has
not been through any fault of your Excellen
"We passed through the American camp,"
writes the already cited Hessian officer,
which all the regiments were drawn out be
sides the artillery ; and Blood under arms.—
Not one of theta was uniformly clad; each
had on the clothes which he wore in the field,
the church, and the tavern. They stood how
ever, like soldiers, well arranged with a mil- ,
itary air, in Which there was but little to find
fault with. All the muskets bad bayonets,
and the sharp shooters had rifles. The men
all stood so still that we were filled with won-
der. Not one of them made a single motion
as if he would speak to his neighbor. Nay,
more, all the lads that stood there in rank
and file, kind nature had formed so trim, so
slender, so nervous that it NO.s a pleasure to
look at them; and we were surprised at such
a handsome well formed race. "in all ear
nestness," adds he, "English America sur
passes the most of Europe in the growth and
looks of its male population. The whole na
tion has a natural turn and talent for war
and soldiers life."
" He made himself somewhat merry, how
ever, with the equipments of the officers. A.
few wore regimentals, and those fashioned to
their own notions as to cut and color, being
provided by themselves. Brown coats with
sea green facings, white lining with silver
trimming, and gray coats in abundance, with
buff facings and cuff, and gilt buttons—in
I short, every variety of pattern.
" The brigadiers and generals wore uni
forms and belts which designated their rank,
but most of the colonels and other officers
were in their ordinary clothes, a musket and
bayonet in hand, and a cartridge box, and a,
powder-horn over the shoulder. But What
especially amused him was the variety of un
couth wigs worn by the officers ; lingering of
an uncouth fashion. "Most of the troops
thus noticed were the hastily levied militia—
the yeomanry of the country. "There were
regular regiments also," he said, "which for
want of time and cloth, were not yet equip
ed in uniform. These had standards of va
rious emblems and mottoes, some of which
had for us a very satirical signification."
" But I must say ; to the credit of the ene
my's regiments," continues he, "that not a
man was to be found therein, mho ; as we
marched by, made even a sign of taunting,
insulting, exultation, hatred, or any other
evil feeling; on the contrary, they seemed as
though they would rather do us honor. As
we marched to the great tent of Gates, he in
vited in the brigadiers and commanders of
regiments, and various refreshments were set
before them. Gen. Gates is between fifty
and sixty years of age, wears his own thin
gray hair, is active and friendly, and on ac
count of the weakness of his eyes, constant
ly wore spectacles. At head quarters we met
many officers, who treated us with all
Mss. ATINGTON.-" There he goes again,"
says Mrs. Parting,ton, in the Legislature, as
a member stood up for the fifth time to speak
on a question.
" There he goes, like a soda fountain, and
just as fluidly as water. Now Isaac, mind
him, and see if you can't become a speaker
of the House of Reprehensibles some time.
" I declare," continued she, as a new burst
of eloquence reached her ear, " It does seem
as if the mantle-piece of Daniel Webster bad
fell on him—he is so bright."
kx..thrsts or A FOP.—He is one-third collar,
one-sixth patent leather, one sixth walking
stick, and the rest kid gloves and hair. A.zi
to his remote ancestry there is some doubt„
but it is now pretty well settled that ho is
the sou of a tailor's goose.
M.An innocent young sportsman hear
about, in order to shoot a squirrel on the top
of a tall tree, elhnbed another one near by,
and on being asked his reason for so foolish
a freak, said, " That he didn't want to strain
his gun by a long shot 1"
13 ,An Irish friend of ours, hearing of
gentleman's having a stone coffin made for
himself, exclaimed, " Be me sowl, and that's
a good idee I Shure an' a stone coffin 'ud
last a man his lifetime V'
GRAVE Joss: —Passenger.—" Doctor, if I
go on getting no better, what shall I be good
for when I ;et to Australia t" .
Doctor—" Why, you're just the nitin gist
want to begin a graveyard with."
TESCILER.—How many kinds of axes aro
Boy.—Broad age, narrow ate, post axe;
at.e of the legislature, axing price, and tad
of the Apostles.
TE.A.c.tuon.—Good ! go to the head. of . your
bar-Sins are like circles in the water,
when a stone is thrown into it, one produces
another. When anger was in Cain's heart.;
murder was not far off.
12g6. Wisdom and virtue may exist by prop
er cultivation, as well in public as in private
life, and become as perfect in a crowded pal.
ace, as in a solitary cottage.
AlP'irOne reason why the world is not Tea
formed, is, because every an would have
others make a beginning, and never thinks
Remember the wheel of Protridenee
is always in motion ; and the spoke that is
uppermost will be under and therefore mix
trembling always with your joys
Minds capable of the greatest things
can enjoy the most trivial, as the elephant's
trunk can knock down a man or pick up es
An expedition to Nicaragua is organ
izing in Philadelphia. The object is said to
be industrial and pacific.
ftr•Happiness is a pig with a greasy tail,
which every one runs after, but nobody oan
re., What kind of a. ship has two mates
and no captain. A court-ship.