BY G. SANDERSON $. B. CQRNMAN.] VOOTiaS 26; NO 48; Terms of Publication. The' American. Volunteer Is published every Thursday morning, in the white frame building, (rear of the conn house,) at Two Dollars per annum, payable half yearly in advance, or two dollars and fifty cents, if not paid within the year. No subscription taken fora less term than six months, and no discontinuance permitted until nil arrearages are paid, A failure to notify a discontinuance at the expiration of a term, will be considered a new engagement. ... Mvertisements will be thankfully received, and published at the rate of gf p'er square for three insertions, and 25 cts. for each subse quent insertion. Those not specifically ordered will be inserted till forbid. ll.indbills, Blanks , Cards, lie. neatly executed at short notice, and at inoderate prices. ABBOT'S FOR THE VOEXTNTEBR. The following; Gentlemen will please act as agents for this paper; subscriptiOnsrcceived,and money paid to either ofthescindividualswillbe : John Moore, Esq. "Ncwyille. Joseph M. MEANsiDsq. HopewclVtnwnship. John Wunderlich, Esq. Shippensburg. David Clever, Esq. Lee’s ft Hoads, John Mehaffv, Dickinson towpship. . Abraham Hamilton, ogestown. George F. Cain, Esq. Mechnnicsburg. Frederick WonderliCh, do. James Elliott, 'Esq. Springfield. Daniel Krvsher, Esq. Churcbtown. J*cob-Longnkcker, E.Pcnnsbnro’ townsjdp. George Ernest,. Cedar Spring, Allen tp« POETRY. TO ISABEL— ~&ia**/ieare. The weather is exceedingly, hot,- The sky exceedingly bl'iie, Oh; tcll'mc; lovely Isabel, What shall I, shall I do?; I can’t keep cool—l court the breeze, Hut oh! the breeze is coy—• And like.thyself, disdains to come And HJI my heart with joy. I slept in ice last night, But when I awoke at day, I floated in a tepid bath, - And thought Td run away!, Do what I will, I can’t keep cool, I’m roasted and done browji— And I shall soon evaporate Unless 1 leave the town. 1 he bricks are hot, the pavements hot, The side-walks hotter still— r Oh! fora cooling country breeze Upon n country hill— Oh, for the green and-dewy turf. The fountain'dancing free. Where I might sit and poetize. My Isabel, with thee. Nny, smile not \n i] iu cm Exhactfrom “The Far PFcst,” THE 3MIISSXSSXFPZ. It is Surely no misnomer that this giant stream has been styled the .“etdrnal river,” the “terrible Mississippi;”* for we may find none other imbbdying so many elements of the fearful and subliibe. In the wild rice lakes of the frozen north, amid a solitude broken only by a shrill clang of the myriad' water-fowls, is its home. Gushing out from its fountains clear as the air-bell, if sparkles over the white pebbly sand-beds, and break ing over the beautiful falls of the" “Laughing Wafer,”? it.takes up its majestic inarch to i the distant deep. Rolling on through the | shades of magnificent forests, and hoary, castellated cliffs, and beautiful meadows, its volume is swollen as it advances, until it! receives to its bosom a tributary, a rival, a j conqueror, which has roamed three thous-1 nnd iniles for the meeting, and its original features are lost forever. Its beauty isj merged-in sublimity! Pouring along in its deep bed the.heapcd-up wafers of streams which drain the broadest valley on the globe; sweeping onward in a boilingjiiass, furious, turbid, always dangerous; fearingaway, from time to time, its deep banks, with their giant colonnades of living verduc, and then, with the stern despotism of a conquerer, flinging them aside again; governed by no principle but its own lawless,will, the dark majesty of its features summons tip an*emotion of the sublime which defies contrast or paral lel. Anti then, when we think of its far, lonely course, jbOVneying onward in proud, I dread, solitary "grandeur, through forests j dusk With the lapse of centuries, pouring out the ice and snows ofaratic lands through every temperature of fclime, Jill at last >it heaves free itsmighty bosom beneath the line, we are forced to yield up ourselvcs.in uncontrolled admiration of itStgloomy mag nificence. And its dark, mysterious history, too; those fearful scenes of which it has, a lone, been the witness; the venerable tombs, of a race departed which shadow its waters; (he savage tribes that yet roam its forests; the germes of civilization expanding upon its borders; and the deep solitudes, untrod den by man, through which it rolls, all con spire tb .throng the fancy. Ages on ages and cycles upon cycles have rolled away; I wave alter wave liave swept the broad fields of the Old Water; a hundred generations 1 have arisen from the cradle and flourished in their freshness, and, like autumn leaflets, have withered lathe tomb; and the Pharaohs .and, the Ptolcmys, the Cassars.and the Ca lifs, have thundered over the nations and passed away; and.here; amid these "terrible solitudes, in the stern majesty of loneliness, a'nd power, and pride, have rolled onward these deep waters to their destiny! “Who gave you your invulnerable life, Vour Strength, your speed, your fury and j our joy? God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations. Answer!” There is, perhaps, no • stream which pre sents a greater variety of features Ilian the Mississippi, Or phenomena of deep interest. Whether we regard the soil, productions, and climate of its valleys, its individual charac ter and (hat of tributaries, or the outline of its scenery and course. The confluents of this, vast stream arc numerous, and each one brings a tribute of the soil through which it has roamed. The Missouri pours out'its waters heavily charged with the marl of the Rocky mountains, the saffron sands Of the Yellow Stone,, and the chalk of the- White river; the Ohio holds in its floods the vegeta ble mouldof the Alleghanies, ,and Red riv ers bring in the deep-died alluvion of their banks. Each tributary mingles the spoils of its native, Inlls'with the general flood. And yet, after the contributions of so many streams, the remarkable fact is observed that its brpaijth'and volume seem rather di minished-,than increased. Above the em bouchure of the Missouri, fifteen hundred miles from the MexicarTgulf, it is broader than at New Orleans, with scarce One-tenth .its wafer; and at the foot of. St. Anthony’s Falls its breadth is b.iit one-third less. This fonns a striking characteristic of the west ern rivers, "and owes, perhaps, its origin par tially to the turbid, character of their waters: as they approach their outlet they augment in volume, and depth, and impetuosity of current, but contract their expanse. None, however,,exhibit these features so strikingly as the grainf central stream; and while,.for its body yf wafer, it is the narrowest stream, known,: it is,charged, with heavier solutions and has broader alluvians than any other.— T(ie depth of the stream is constantly vary ing!, , At New Orleans it exceeds one hun dred feet. Its width is fromhalf ofonemile tp two the brcadth.of Us valley from six miles tosixty; the rapidity of its, current from tivo miles to four; its meari descent six inches,in a;mile, and its annual floods vary from twelve feet to'sixty, commencing in 'larch and ending in May. Thusiiiuch for statistics. " ’ : :„T Nelowits confluence with this turbid fri butary, the Mississippi;! as has been observ ed» is no longer the..price, limpid: stream; gushing forth from the wroatby snowsefthe northwest; but it whirls along ,against its ragged -banks a restless volume of heavy, sweeping, floods,: and . its aspect, of placul magniheenco is. beheld no more. The tur bid torrents , heaves onward, wavering from, side to side, like allying creature, as if, to overleapitsbpundsj-rplling alonginadeep cut race-path, through fife great expanse of lowland, meadow, from whose exhaustleas *AnameofAlEonnuinri'igin—-W/ss/signlfy 'PfiKfeat, ansa'ehe, a river.: ' tlntiian nkme lof the “Fallsof St, Anthony.” “ NOT HOUND TO SWEAR IN THE WORDS OP ANY MASTER.” Horace. CARLISLE, Pa, THURSDAY, JUNE 13. 1839. mould are reared aloft those enormous shafts shrouded in the fresh emerald of their tas selled'parasites, for which its alluvial hot j toms are so famous. And set the valley of the “endless river” cannot be deemed heav ily timbered when contrasted with the forest ed hills of the Ohio. The sycamore, the elm, the cypress, and other frees of decidu ous foliage, may attain a greater diameter, but the huge trunks are more spare and more issolatcd in recurrence. But one of the most striking phenomina of the Mississippi, in common with all the western rivers, and one which distinguishes (hem from those which disembogue their wa ters into the Atlantic, is the uniformity of its mcandcrings. The river, in its onward course, makes a semicircular sweep almost with the precision of a conipass, and then is precipitated diagonally athwart its, channel to a curve of equal j-cgularity upon the 'op-- posite shore. The'deepest channel and most rapid current is.said to.cxist ip the bend; and thus the stream generally infringes up on the bend-side, and throws up a sand-bar on ihc_ shore opposite. So constantly do these, sinnositics recur, that there are : said to be but three reaches of any extent between the confluence of the Ohio and the gulf, and so uniform that the boatmen and Indians have been accustomed to estimate their pro gress by the number of bends.rather thar/by (he number of miles. One of the sweeps of the Missouri is said to include a distance of forty miles in its curve, and a circuit of half thajt distance is not uncommon. ■ Sometimes a V cvl-off in (he parlance of the watermen, is produced at'thcsebetids, where the stream, in its headlong course, has burst-through the narrow neck of the peninsula, around which it olicc circled. At a- point, called (jle "Grand Cut-off,” steamers now pass through an isthmus of less (Kan one mile, where for merly was required a cifcuil of twenty.— The current, in its more furious stages,.'of ten tears up islands from (he bed of the riv er, removes sandbars and points, and sweeps oft’whole acres of alluvion with their super incumbent forests. In (he season of flood the settlers, in their log-cabins, along the banks, are often startled from their sleep by (he-deep, sullen crash of a “landslip,” as such removals are called The scenery of Mississippi, below its con fluence with the Missouri, is, as Jins been remarked, too sublime for beauty; and yet there is not a little of the picturesque in the views which meet the eye along the banks. Towns and settlements of' greater or less extent appear- nt .frequent intervals; and then the lowly log-hut of the pionepr Is not to be passed without'notice, standing beneath the tall, branchless columns of the [girdled' forcst-trcss, with its luxuriant maize-fields sweeping away in the.rear. One of these humble habitations of the wilderness we reached, 1 remember, one evening near twi light; and'while our boat was delayed at the woodyard, I strolled up from the shore to the gateway, and entered easily into confa bulation with a pretty, slatternly-looking female, with a mushroom, flakened-haired urchin at her apron-string, and an infant at the breast very quietly receiving his supper. On inquiry 1. learned that eighteen years had seen the good woman a, denizen of the wilderness; that all the responsibilities ap pertained unto herself, and that her “man” was proprietor of some thousand acres of bottom in the vicinity; Subsequently I was informed that the woyth .woodcutter could be valued at . not less than one hundred thou sand ! yet, in verite, reader mine, I do as severate that my latent sympathies were not slightly roused at the first introduction, be cause of the seeming poverty of the dirty cabin and its dirtier mistress! Prom the National Intelligencer, STATE OF EUROPE-—NEXT CENSUS OF THE UNITED STATES. “If we were to say that nearly'' tlie svhole of Great Britain and Ireland, and the continent of Europe, are at this moment closely bordering on a singuinary revolution,'.l should be saying noth ing but the t'rnth.” - ——' [ London Cor, of Rational Intelligencer, “M r, Adams, according‘to the newspapers, said in the house of Representatives: " A mem. ber has spoken'of conskqukscks: ir the evkk+ of war, if it were a war of'principle and jus tice, consequences are seconaaru, ■ ‘ , »■ [Cor, ofthe Ac to York. American. "There are many persona who would not simply 1 shrink with dread, but disgust, from the consequences of doctrines they .are led to uphold, could they be made to anticipate the consequences of reducing their creeds to practice. One of the most dangerous symp toms of constitutional disorder in society, on both sides, of the Atlantic;: is, that, in opposition to principles, cohsequences,are not only of secondary, but of no consequence .— In the abstract so ought we to reason,'provi ded we clearly discern what is principles, and can rationally assure ourselves'of. salu tary results.- But, how*fearful must be ttffe. prospect of fujure times, when an imjhehae number of persons conceive they are in duty bound to take-oh themselves, and impose oh other?,: the responsibility of consequences! Did such personal wait to consider how com pletely they-throw themselves .into .the net of designing-demagogues, they .would pause! It is not yet veryjong since ajafge share 6JT Europe was an aceldama, from men cbntendr ing that, they. were obeying The decrees of Heaven;''antr acting under duties above all human laws. What has been acted may be imitated, and blood and ruin follow the footsteps of men dishing forward regardless of consequences. Buft’ quitting these reflpctiohs, let us; for a moment glance on Europe-—on that part of the earth which holds the destinies ,of the voirafTEEß. nations within and. without its limits. Europe may he subdivided.into the active and passive nations, with the exception of Russia, partaking, as occasion serves, of both characters. In activity, Great Britain and France stand pre-eminent:Tmthe passive class, Austria sustains her character of cen turies.,: On the three southern peninsulas of Europe, Spain torn by civil war, arid.Portu fal of little consequence in general policy; faly, direct or indirect, under the influence of Austria; and Greece, a kingdom in name, anarchy in fact. In northern Europe, Swe den and Denmark, .respectable as nations for their scale of intelligence, but political ly monarchies, which in any great crisis, must be moved by the impulse or attractions of large masses. Prussia, in many respects the most perfect government which was ev ef formed oh earth, the first which made in tellectual improvement 'a fundamental part of state policy, but which, from position and the. alliance of their royal lamilics, must yield to Russian influence. The German Scales, witlrpeople highly improved and civilized, and far more prone to peace than war, yet often forced into,' and when so in volved, terrible in war. ' Austria, holding a position which renders’ her the . vanguard towards Russia, : strong, even, powerful, when called into action in conflict with the Western States of Europe or on the southward with Turkey; but, from thfeir common Sclavonic population, feebly opposed to Russia. No other European monarchy lias so much power, however, to act as peacemaker as Austria. The policy ofher Government, at least since the treaty of Hubertsbcrg, ( 1763,) has been peace; though involved in the wars 6f-the Freed revolution, and in the end a gainer by treat; ies, her ancient policy has been since renew ed. Austria is, in our idea, a despotism; but it must be confessed to be the mildest of all despotisms. And another most hon orable distinction is due to Austria; ho oth er nation has ever appeared on our planet with a tribe of her physical force, which has encroached so little on contiguous States. France now, as at distant periods' since the age of Charlemagne, contains the most inflamablc elements tosetEurope—the world oh fire. AVith all the parchments covered with diplomatic limits, the Rhine and the eastern border of the Swiss cantons is also the true eastern border of France. In that generous, gallant, and brave nation, there are toq;niany who regard military glory the supreme good. It betrays ignorance of their national character to say that tW Erciivt £?"*. f‘ lr war opted with .ouis Phillippe. A character’Wnsplcubus’ -under Clovis, Charlemagne, Philip Augus tus, in the Crusades, under Louis XIV, arid through and since their riwii Revolution, lies deeper based than politicians are .able or willing to admit. In real power, France has changed Uie least of any existing State in Europe during the last.two centuries.— Called into activity —and less is needed to produce such an eflcct in France than in any other nation of the Caucasian world—then is shcfelt like a well-pointed and two edged sword. ' After the close of -the American Revolu- tion, Europe gradually, but France & Great Britain particularly, contained all the in flammatory elements of revolution, arid from every feature of the times, it was the cast of a die which nation was to undergo the fiery or(leal. "France look the lead arid Britain thealarm; and how, at the end of fifty years, the attitudes' of the two nations are not es sentially different. In 'both nations, much ofvague,.undefined, but dangerous views of (he present and future are indulged. On which soil the .volcano will burst remains in the \yomb of Time. Taken apart—Great Britain, holding the extremes of the Eastern' continent; mistress, of Indostap, extending her power in Afghanistan, -Persia, and Tar tary, whilst her writers, and even her legis lators, are abusing Russia for encroachments on Turkey; seizingßreshire in Persia, and Aden in Arabia, whilst accusing Russia of instigating the Schah of Persia to besiege Herat, a city on the table-land of Asia: with the most extended commerce and manufac turing power ever United in the hands ofthe same people; holding the, fine northwestern archipelago of Europe as her seat of science, population, wealth, and grandeur; unequal led colonies in Asia, Africa, the' West In dies, and in South and North America—no other nation had ever so much to risk in war, and yet she threatens Russia, nh'dTier Tory party, the United States.' Russia, seated with her back to the frpzen and inaccessible regions of the north; de pendent Sweden on her right, and the inter minable Asia bn her left; agitated Europe in front, with her .i-ight foot on Turkey and left on Persia, and, in fine, her never-closed eyes on the whole earth—whatjother nation can expect to gain by war with such a Pow cr—a Power ruling,- direct or indirect; over at least one Jiundred millions of people, with an army of eight hundred thousand Men; and, according to British authority; the third,' if not the second, most efficient fleet bn earth? Interrogate the past, ahd it will an swer by pointing to the names of Charles ■XII and Napoleon;i±wiUpbint,!onthe maps of Europe and. Asia, to Sweden, Poland, Turkey, Persia, and Siberia, and trace the lines of-Russian marches oyer Germany in to Italy;’Switzerland, and France. 1 We have paragraph-writers in. the United States anticipating a successful, war on thb .part of Great Britain against Russia. Can there be a sane-minded, wellrinforrttfed person oh either side of the Atlantic who sincerely wishes the Russian mass put in motion?—> The first cannon fired in such a war must he the to the Turkish empire. Let Britain beware, and let us look well to our own household. ■ -- In the ensuing year, the sixth.decennial enumeration or Census is to be taken in. the United States; In some every census of the population of the U, States produces a-revolution;'a' - peaceable revolu tion, true, -but a change in the balance of power- But the next census must-show a change of more consequence than that pro duced by any previous enumeration. - Uppn the most rigid analysis of progressive popu lation, the Atlantic and interior numbers will be equalized about 1843 or 1844; and, at the- census of 1840—Ml, the aggregate ought to. be about seventeen millions, eight in the central sections and nine along the Atlantic slope. We frequently see, and often hear of per sons in all the. fulness of wordly prosperity committing suicide. The writer of this ar ticle has witnessed more than one such mel ancholy circumstance, and is not altogether without fear of living to see his country in fljcting on itself such a calamity; Parties, shouting princ.iplc while feckless of conse quences, are ready-made instruments of na tional suicide. “Time,” says a profound French philosopher, "destroys every thing made without his assistance.” In ourcoun try, most profound contempt of time, past or to come, has been expressed, even in our legislative halls. What time promises to do, and which no powfer without the aid of time ever did do, is expected amongst;,us to be reared, like th£‘ tower of Babel, to the heavens, and above all- the deluges to which the .moral as well as physical world is sub ject. We may thus build, until stopped in our aspiring plans’by, if not confusion of tongucs, a conflict of interests. To conclude in seriousness, the most splendid destiny ever offered to any portion of mankind lies before' the Anglo-Saxon po pulation of North America, unless it is mar- ! ried by national folly, by a rejection of those principles on which alone public prosperity ever jias and ever must rest. Union and -a 1 judicious cultivation of our immense re sources can place us amongst the most hap- 1 py and morally influential national associa- : tions which ever rose Ob earth. 1 THE THREE SHARPERS AN ARABIAN TALE. A peasant was conducting a goat to Bag dad; he was mounted on a mule, and the goat 1 Mlo™ s mik » holt hung to his neck.— . Three young bncksdbservii.u ««, v,r ’ them proposed-an even bet that he would take the goat without the countryman’s knowledge notwithstanding the tinkling of the bell. “ Done, ” said the second, “ and at the same tjme I will lay you a wager that I will steal from the fellow the mule he rides upon without exciting his suspicion.”— “That must be-a-difficult task, indeed,” observed the third; but if you Will double the stakes, I will engage to take from him all the clothes upon his back, arid "lilifry'them off withbut Ink trying to hinder me!” These proposals being mutually agreed to, the first commenced his task; which was to steal the goat. Having dexterously loosened the fast-, ening to the bell he slipped it from the goat’s neck and tied it to the mule’s-tail, and made off with -the goat undiscovered. The peas ant hearing the tinkling of the bell never doubted-that the goat followed. However, happening to look behind him sometime after, he was strangely surprised at missing the lit tle animal, which he was to sell at market. He now made inquify of every passenger in hopes of hearing of his strayed : goat; at last, the second sharper accosted him; and-told him lie had just seen a man make down the next" lane precipitatelyj dragging a goat by the- hind-legs. Tlie peasant,thinking he could run faster than the mule could carry him, instantly dismounted, and requested the young felldiv to hold his mule, while he set off at full speed in pursuit of the thief.— After exhausting himself in running without getting sight of the man or the goat, he re turned omte spent.and almost breathless; to thank the stranger for taking care of his mule, when to add to bis misfortune, behold his mule and keeper were vanished. - The rogues had gained a secure -retreat, and were triumphing over their associate, while he waited for the coun tryman at the side of a well, in that part of ( the read he knew he mtist pass. Here he sent forth his lamentable cries,'and made such bitter, wailings, that the peasant was touched with commiseration as he approach! cd liira, and reflecting on his, misfortunes,, found himself disposed to listen to the afflic tions of others, as he appeared to be over whelmed with grief. he thus addressed liim: “how can you take ;pri sb piteously? surely your misfortunes are hot so. great as mine: I have just lost two aniinals, the value of whith is more than half niy'-subs,twice; my mule : and my goat might in time Have made my “A. fine loss truly,” said the nian at the well, to be compared with mine!, you have nbt.like me, let fall into this well, a casket of diamonds 'delivered, into' my hands, and entrusted to my care and discre tion,tobe;carried;totheCailiph:ofßagdad; no doubt I shall be hanged for mynegligence; which wjll be called an .excuse , for having clandestinely sold them.” Why don’t you dive to the bottom of the well, and fetch up your treasure; 5 ,’ said the peasant; “,I know it is notdeep.” ;, “Alas,”said the sharper, • “1 am qui.te awkward at diving* and had rather rim the risk of being hanged; than meet inevitable death by. drowning; but if any one who knows the’ well better flipn hie, would undertake kind office upon rfepoy- [AT TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM. NEW SERIES--VOXi. 3, NO 52 firing the jewels.Twould give hlin ten pie ces of gold.” • 1 ’ . The unwary dupe poured biit his pious e jaculations .in gratitude to Mahomet for haying thrown in his .way the means of re pairing the loss.of his mule and his- goat;— “ Promise me, ” said ho, in an ecstncv, "ten pieces, and I will recover your casket. ”’—; The sharper agreed, and the countryman stripped himself and jumped with, such alac rity into_ the well that the sharper saw he had no time to lose, and immediately took to his heels with the clothes. The poor peasant felt all round, the bottom of the well, to no purpose, and, then raising him to the brink to take breath, and recover strength for a second attempt, he found, that the stranger had decamped tviih his dpparcl.— Grown wise too late by woful experience, he returned home by many a lonely path to conceal his shame; and relating his talc to his affectionate wife, the only consolation he received from, her was, " thatTrom the king upon the throne, to the shepherd upon the plains, two thirds of the human race owed the greatest.part of. .the Vexations of life to imprudent confidences. The next day he not only receiyell back both his animals and his clothes, .but in one of the pockets he found the full sum he so much coveted, td wit: ten pieces of gold.- . From JTenrick’a Silk Grower’s Guide. SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF SILK .... SIANUFACTtUVES. —' • The cultivation of silk commenced iri China 700 years before, Abraham, and 2700 before Christ. The Emperor Hoang-ti “(he Emperor..of .the Earth.” who reigned over China more than 100 years, and whose name is rendered immortal for his noble ahd use ful deeds —he who taught the Chinese ti/' construct houses, ships, mills, carts, and other works of usefulness, tie also persua ded his first consort Si-ling-chvlo bestow her attention on silk worms, it being his earnest desire that his empress also might contribute to the Welfare of the empire.— Aided by die women of her household, the empress Si-ling-chi gathered the silk worms from the trees, and introduced them into the imperial apartments. Thus sheltered and protected, and abundantly supplied with the leaves of the mulberry, they yielded silk superior in quality, to that produced in, the. forests. ‘She also taught them,its’manufac ture, and to embroider. . Silk and its manufacture, and tl® Weaving,, continued to be the principle occupation of the succeeding empresses; apartments bding especially-appropriated' to this purpose,- in the imperial palacepind ,Soon from the high est rank of females, it became-the occupation of all ranks in China; and ere long the Erii ;peror, the learned class, the princes, the mandarins and Courtiers, and all the rich were attired in- the splendid fabrics of silk, until finally, silk became the inexhaustible, resource of the wealth of Chinn,; /At Rome and so late as,A;I). 280,. a silk attire of purple, was accounted by an Empe ror as a luxury too expensive even for an Empress,.and that empress his wife, Seve ra;_its value being equal, to that of gold, by weight. Others there were at Rome, and enough even at that Uayj who were by nd means thus Scrupulous in regard to price.— But it was not until long after the-seat of the Roman Empire had been transferred to By zantium of‘Constantinople, that the distinct and more perfect knowledge of the nature and origin of silk became known, and the mystery of the long sought "golden fleece, ’’ was revealed to Europe. , ‘ The whole value of the.silks manufactu red annually in France, in 1835, amounted by computation to Ho.ooo,ooo,francs, and it was estimated iriEurope, that in. that year silks to the amount of 50,000,000. francs were exported from that country to the Uni-, ted States alone; Yet in France, although they raise so much sillf, they still i mport annually to the amount of 43,000,000 francs of -raw silk, or nearly one third of all.they consume, for the supply pf their manufactures.. In England the climate;: from jits humidity or other causes, is found'td tie unsuiled to ■fts,,growth;, for-this rcasonddohe, the trials to raise it there have failed.' Yet.from. 1821 to 1828, according to. n late aild tic work, on the silk trade, .they imported of raw silk, 24,157,568 pounds;, worth. sll2o,r‘ 077,580. Of this a'mouhi 350,881,283'came front Italy alone, . At the present day;.the silks which were Consumed in great Britain alone; so late as, 1835, amountcd to the enormous, sum Of $28,282,582 annually, at the wholesale'jiH ces, besides the whole amount, of all they exported. —r- -■ . - ' Prom the ffarrisburg Jte/jorl'ef'. * SERENADE. Let me but see thee, on'ce more, rfiy love; Let me but bear thee, once more; my jove; Let. me but breathe the tender tale, Ueneatb the summer’s cvching ycil. .. The (lowers are blooming bright,;my love* Sw.eei.are-breathingtheflnwcrji myjoye. The silver moon beams bright,-my love, Anilcttlrois our try string bowct. Tliencome wUhme.Jbcn come with me/, ' Joyous wcU gaze on tliedarlc blue sea ; I.' And then, as wafts the sorithern gale/"'• i; :■ Tll-breathe to thee the tehd'ertale. Let me buf sec thee love,- v Letmebiit heafthceoncemore.my love,-’ ,Ohl Jet us meftj : and meet’forever. BY THOMAS D. M*KL\vicK; I