173*Z4 2 041%) PEI Epistl„ r oTp 3 YDV*O I.ltlrr mrplAtiarin. oritoony's fickle,ra tbou'rt ventniedfairly ; young , in-years, it may not be ly bark is launched too early. • pig' of mine to heaven is sent, Rat so the stormy water • t p tp rove 'a wife obedient, whoa bast been a ,daughter. 4j i wish of. mine were bliss, ' feted hope were pledsure, wou idir with him find happiness, pi he in thee a treasure; 'lesery wish and hope of mine, Joi every thought and feeling, bribe weal of thee and thine, As true as my revealing.. please thy husband in all things, ' Tomer, be thou zealous; . ukit in mind that tove has wings, v il os sver make him jealous ; of if from his .o:erch once flies, lion Irak are Bea;ity's jesses ! la in might plead tffy streaming eyes,] t a d thrdishevelle4 tresseer. • pnplenk 011 f thy, thopghts of dress; Be sparing of thy parties ; Where fashion riots tin excess, 0! nothing there of heart. is ; teen its palling sweetti Compare With love of faithful bosom? Jen of the fatal tree beware, There's poison in its blossom ! ch thought and wish in him confide; No secretfrom him cherish; beuever thou hest aught to hide, Thti better feelings perish. whaisoe'er ye do or say, 0 neve' with him palter; imher too, thou saidst " obey " fefore the.holy altar: and forbear. for much thoulTfit'id married life to tease ye, - iboold thy:husbami . seem unkind,_ iqrse to smile, or please ye.: nt that amid the cares of life Ms troubles fret and fear him; smile as it becomes a wife, and labor well to cheer him. re, answer hint with loving word, Bo each tone kindly spoken, )ractimes is tholuily cord iy angry jarring broken. en curb thy tetriper lin its rage, k4d-fretfal be thou never; Token ice, a fearful change towns over both forever. thy neek light hang the chain, ir.livinen now bath:bound ye" thee and thine may pleasure reign,. /aid smiling friends stuOund • fare-ye well, anA,niitY each time snn smiles, find ye wiser; . , (Maly take thewell meant rhyme Of thy sincere adviser. Love and Hope. NT TIIONAR NOORr. ,beside yon summer sea, zalliope and. Love reclined "metleal noon-tide come, when he leaped smilingly, left poor Hope behind, 'aid Love, "to sail awhile this sunny main." so sweet, was.bis parting smite, who never dreams of guile , _ come again. there till evening's beam the waters lay ; the sands, in thonghfut dream, nis name, which still the stre a m, .a.washed away. - • gth a sad appears in sight, towards the maiden Moves! 'earth that comes, and gay and bright, len bark reflects the light, Rh! not Love's. Friendship showed night-lamp o'er sea;• . the light that lamp bestowed ;• had lights that wanner glowed•,• where, alas! was he! "wound the tea and shore' threw her darkling chain; Y ly sails were-seen no more, totting dream's of bliss were o'er - ,-- terer came.eiain. The Passions. cone are a num'fous crowd; Nur, positive, and loud. .1 licentious sans gaffe aiefly, rise the stormslof life: grow mirtinous, and rave, Ire masters, thou their shore. . • . . . . , . . • . . - , , • . • . . . - . . . . , . . . .. . , .0. 1 . 1 1 lii i 0 :5 - ' • 1 ' : 'II,I' i . : - _ , ' ,r,:.:,. . . . • , • . c . -i . . „ t i.• 7 . 1 , . .. 6f •. . ..., ~ .. ......, , ~...._ ,!..•„ ~,,.„ • , . • ..5....... 1-: I • ` , . . . . ~ , IA •. 4, 1; i i7' .'- .: ' i ' ' :: i - ::- Hi t .. '. . ''. '.:. :' . • ••, - , . . . ~ I cz ti • . ‘..—, • • I %c? C-) ( Z '' e• 3 'l, -" 1 . ,-, •, 0 7 ' ' • r - - , _ 0 1 .._ .. •...• • k',. ' T,..... ..„. ... _._ ....0 1 • - 'I . 1 . . • . • . ' ' _ =I ..s s -- In one of the loviest villages of old . Virginia, there lived, in the year 176, "an odd old man, whose daughter was declared ty universal consent, to be the -loveliest maiden in - all the country . round. The veteran in his youth was athletic and muscular above all his fel lows ; and his breast, where he always wore them, could show the adorn ment of three medals, received for his victories in gymnastic feat's when a young man. His daughter was now eighteen, and had been sought in- mar riage by many suitors. One brought wealth—another a fine person--anoth er this, and another that. But they were all refused by the old man, who became at last a by-word for his obsti nacy among the young men of the vil lage and neighborhood. - At length the nineteenth birth-day of Annette,his charming daughter,who was amiable and modest as she was beauti ful, arrived. The morning of that day. her father- invited all the youth of the country to a hay making frolic. Seventeen handsoine and industrious young men assembled. They come not only to make , hay, but also to make love to the fair _ Annette. In three. hours they had filled the- father's barns with . ,the newly dried grass, and their own - hearts.with fore. Annette, by her father's command, had brought the malt liquor of her own brewing, which she presented to each enamoured swain with her own fair hands. "Now my boys," said the old keep er of the jewel they all coveted, as leaning on their pitch-forks, they - as. sembled round his door in the cool of the evening. " Now my lads, you have nearly all of you made propOsals for my Annette.—Now you see I don't care anything about money or talents, book laming nor‘soldier laming, I can do as well by my gal a any in the country. But I want her to marry a man of my own grit. Now you know, or ought to know, when I was a young ster, I could beat anythin g in the way of leaping. I got my old woman by beating the smartest man on the tas tern shore ; and I. have took the oath and sworn it, that no than shall m4gry my daughter without,, jumping for it. You - , understand me boys. There's the green, and here's, Annette:: he ad ded taking his daughter, who stood timidly behind him, by the hand.— Now, the one that jumps the further est on a, dead level shall marry Annette this very night." This unique address was received by the ybung men with applause..' And many a youth as he bounde,d g4ilyi for, ward to the arena of trial, cast a glance . of anticipated victory back upon the lovely object of village chivalry. The maidens left- the looms and quilting frames—the children their noisy sports —the slaves their labors, and the old men their arm-chairs and 'long pipes,' to witness and triumph - in the success of the victor. All prophesied and many ; wished, that it would be' Cerro!. He was the handsom young est and best humored youth, in the county, and all knew that a strong and mutual attachment existed between him and the fair Annette. , Cerrot had won the reputation of being the " best leap er," and in a country where such ath letic achievements were the " sine qua non" of a man's cleverness, this was no ordinary honor. In a contest like the present; he had therefore every ad vantage over his fellow " athletae. ' The arena allotted for this hy menial contest, was a level space in front of the village inn, and near the centre of a grass plat reserved in the midst of the village, denominated the " green."— The verdure was ; quite worn off at this place fly the previous exercises of a similar kind and - a bard surface of sand befittingly for the purpose to which it was to be used, supplied its place, The father of the lovely, blushing. and withal happy prize, (for she well knew who would win.) with three oth er patriarchal villagers, were the judg es appointed to decide upon the claims of the several competitors. The last time Carrot tried his skill in this exer cise, he cleared" (to use the leaper's phraseology) twenty one feet and one inch. ,The signal was given, and6by lot the men stepped into arena. . "Edward Grayson seventeen feet," cried one of the judges. The youth had done his utmost. He was a pale, intellectual student. But what had in tellect to do in 'an arena? With. out a look at the maiden he left the ground. Dick Boulden, nineteen feet."— The Village Prize. Regardless of Denunciation from any Quarter.—Gov. PonTsat Drazza - oza) ammu-2. 2 ommale, 4309 act*. Dick with a laugh turned away, and replaced his coat. " Harry Preston, nineteen feet and three inches." Well done Harry Preston," shout ed the spectators. " You have tried hard for the acees and homestead." Harry also laughed, and swore he only jumped for the " fun of the thing." Henry was a rattle-brained fellow but never thought of m-atrimony. He lov ed to walk and talk, and laugh and romp with Annette. but sober marriage Inever came into his head. He only I jumped for the " fun of the thing." He would not have said so if he was sure of winning. " Charley Simms, fifteen feet and a half," Harrah for Charley ! " Char ley win," cried the crowd good humor edly. Charley Simms was the clever est fellow in the world. His mother had advised him to stay at home, and told him if he ever won a wife she would fall in love with his good temper, rather than his lee. Charley howev er made the trial of the latter's capa bilities and lost. Others made the trial, and only one of the leapers had yet cleared twenty feet. •• Now cried the villagers, •• let's see Harry Carrot. He ought to. beat this," and every ofie appearedoas they called to mind the mutual love of the ,la l st competitor, and the sweet Annette, as if they heartily wished his success. Henry stepped to his post with a firm tread. His eye glanced with con tidence'around upon the villagers and rested, before he bounded forward -upon the face of Annette, as if to catch there from that spirit of assurance which the the occasion called for. Returning the encouraging glance, with which she met his own, with a proud smile upon his, he bounded forward. "Twenty one feet and a half. Har ry Carrot forever, Annette and Harry." Hands, caps and hand-kerchief waved over the heads of the spectators, and the eyes of the delighted Annette spark lee with joy. When Harry, Carrot moved:to his station to strive for the prize, a tall gentlemanly young man, in a - military undress frock coat, who had rode up to the inn, dismounted, and joined the spectators, unperceived, while the con test was going - on ; stepped suddenly forward and with a knowing eye, meas ured deliberately the space accomplish ed by the last leaper. He was a stran ger in the village. His handsome face and easy address attracted the eyes oi the village maidens, and his manly and sinewy frame, in which symmetry,and strength were happily_ united, called forth the admiration of the young men. Mayhap, sir stranger, you think you can beat that," said one of the by standers, remarking the manner in 'which the eye of the stranger scanned the area. "If you can leap beyond Harry Carrel, you'! beat the best man in the colonies." The truth of this observation was as sented to by a general murnien "Is it for mere amusement you are pursuing this ,pastime," inquired the Youthful stranger, or is there a prize for the winner. ' - " Annette the loveliest and wealthi est of our village maidens, is to.be the reward of the victor," cried one of the judges. ke the lists open to all ?" " JO! ! young sir," replied the fath er of Annette, with interest, his youth ful ardor rising as he surveyed the pro portionl of the straight limbed young stranger. •'She is -the bride of him who out-leaps Harry Carrol. If you will try you are free to do so. But let me tell you, Harry Carrol, has no watch in Virginia. Here's my daughter sir, look at her, and make you] trial." The young officer glanced upon the trembling maiden, about to be offered on the altar of her father's unconquera ble monomania, with an admiring eye. The poor girl looked at Harry, who stood near with a troubled brow and angry eye, and then cast upon the new competitor an, imploring glance. Placing his coat, in the hands of one of the jud ges he drew a sash he wore beneath it, tightened it around his waist, and Inking the apppointed stand, made apparently without effort the bound that Iris to decide the happiness or mis ery of Harry and Annette. "Twenty-two feet and one inch," shouted the judge. The announce , ment was repeated with surprise by the spectators, who criwded around the victor, filling the air with congratula tions, not unmingled, however, with loud murmurs from those who were mors nearly interested in the happiness of tlfe lovers. The old mare approached , . and grasp ittg his hand excitingly. called him hii son, and he felt prouder of him than if he was•a prince. Physical activity and strength were the old leaper's trne pat ent of nobility. Resuming his coat the victor sought with his eye the fair prize he sad, al though nameless and unknown tio fair ly won. -She leaned upon her 6ther's arm. pale and distressed: • Her lover stood aloof, glooniy and mortified, admiring the superiority of the stranger in an exercise in which he prided himself as unrivalled, white he hated him for his success. - " Annette, my pretty prize, aid the victor, taking her passive band, "I have won you • fairly." Annette's cheek became paler than marble; she trembledjike an aspen leaf, and clung closerto her father, while the drooping • eye sought the form of.her lover. His brow grew !dark at the stranger's language. . . " I-have won you, my pretty flow er, to make .you a bride l—,tremble not so violently-4 mean not ixlYself, how ever proud I might be, he added with gallantry, to wear so fair a gem 'next my heart. Perhaps," and he' cast his eyes round inquiringly. while the cur rent of life leaped joyfully to her brow, and a murmur of surprise ran through' the crowd—" perhaps, there is some fa vored .youth among the competitors, who has a higher claim to this jewel: Young sir," he continued, turning to the surprised Henry, "Methinks you 'were victor in the list before me-L-I strove not for the maiden,' though one could not well strife for a fairer—but from love for, the manly sport in which I saw you engaged.. You are the vic tor, as such, with the permission of this worthy assembly receive from my hand the prize you have so well and honorably won." The youth stept foward and grasped his hand with gratitude,, and the' next moment, Annettee was weeping ,from pure joy, upon his shoulder. The welkin rung with acclamations of the delighted villagers and amid the tern-, porary excitement produced by the act, the stranger. withdrew from the crowd, mounted his horse, and spurred at a brisk trot through the village. _ • That night Henry and Annette were married, and the health of the myste rious and noble-hearted stranger, was drank in overflowing bumper of rustic beverage., In process of time, there were born unto the married pair, sons and daugh tars, and Harry Carroll had become Col. Henry Cairo! of the Revolutiona ry army. One evening, having just returned home, after a hard campaign, he was sitting with his family on the gallery of his handsome country house, when an advanced _courier rode up and an nounced the approach of General Wash. ington and suite, informing him he should crave his hospitality for the night. The necessary directions were given in reference to the house hold preparation, and Col. Carroll, ordering his horse rode forward to meet and es cort to his house the distinguished' guest, whom he had never yet- seen, altho' serving in the same witlly ex tended army. That evening at the table; Annette, (now become the dignified, matronly, and still handsome Mrs. Carroll) could not keep her •eye from the illustrious visitor. Every moment 'or two she tvould steal a glance at his own com manding features, and 'half doubtingly, half assuredly, shake her head and look again, to be still more puzzled. Her absence of mind and embarrassment at length became evident to her husband who affectionately inquired if she were ill! "I suspect Colonel," said the Gen eral, who had been, with a quiet, mean ing smile, observing the lady's curious and puzzled survey of his features, tijat Mrs. Carrot thinks she recognizes'an old aCquaintance.", And he smiled with a mysterious air, as she gazed on' both alternately. The Colonel started and a faint mem ory of the past seemed to be revived as gazed, while the lady rose impulsively from her 'chair, and bending eagerly forward over the tea urn, .with clasped hands, and an eye of intense, eagerio quiry tiled full upon him, stood for a. moment with her lips parted parted, as if she would speak. • "Pardon me, my dear madam—par don me. Colonel—l must put an end to this scene. I have heroine by dint of eatnp fare and hard usage, too nu wieldly to leap again twenty-two feet and one inch even for so fair a bride as one I wot of." Tho recognition, with the surprise, delight and happiness that followed.are left to he imagination of the reader. General Washingten I was indeed the handsome young "leaper" whose mysz terious appearance andi disappeatance in. the native village Of the lovers is still - traditionary, and whose claim to a `substantial body of. " b i ona fide" flesh and blood, was stoutly contested by the village story - tellers, uOtil the happy denounment which took place at the hospititable mansion of Col. Carroll: /a Insult well answered. At a late detiocratic !m eeting In Vir ginia, Maj. Daiezec(Jackson's compan ion' in arms at New Orleans) was one of the speakers. After be had con cluded, a . Whigaslied the pri'ilege of replying, wbich;Was granted, when le' taunted 3hj. D. with being a .forefen err to which he replied Stn--I am sorry to interrupt yob, but,' can permit no man to use such *page in my presence. Judging .from your appearande, I was an Amer ican citizen before you were born. I have a son, born an American citizen, older than you. As for myself, I have been four times naturalized. .1 was naturalized by the sanctity of . the treaty of Lonisiana, the highest form of law known'to the Constitirtion. The rights °lan American citizen were conferred upon me by the law creating the Ter ritorial Government , of Louisiana; and I was admitted to all the rights, bles singS, and obligations which belong to you; Iffy fellow citizens, by the law bringing the State of Louisiana into our glorious confederacy." Then turning to tile whig speaker, his ,eye flashing as on the plains of New Orleans, and heartswelling with the majesty of old recollections, he continued: Sir, You, look now as if you desired to know where and when was ; the fourth time of my naturalition, and, who were my sponsors. The consecrated spot on which I received the right of naturali zation, was the battle ground of New Orleans ; the altar was victory ; the baptismal water was blood and fire;, Andrew Jackson was my god-father , and patrietism,freetlorn and glory were my god,mothers." The mighty mass Of listeners rose Spontaneously, and gave nine cheers for our gallant, speaker, The coon was soon missing. CHA'NGE OF CUSTOMS WITHIN' FIFTY YEARS.—The following extracts are from an article in the New York Mir ror, They are designed by the writer for New York particularly, but are ap. , pliable to other portions of our coun try, and worthy of attention. The wri ter says: When Washington was. President, his wife knit his stockings in PhiLadd : . phia, and the mother made doughnuts and cakes betiveen Christmas and New Years ; now- the married ladies are too proud to make doughnuts; besides they don't ,know ; solthey send to Madame Pompadour, or some other Frefich cake-baker, and buy some sponge cake for three dollars a pound. In those days, New York was full of substantial comforts, now. it is fall of splendid mis ery ; then, there were no grey headed ipinisters, (unless they were ugly in deed) for a man could get married for a dollar ,and begin hcnise-keeping for twenty, and in washing his clothes and cooking his victuals, the wife saved more than it took to kiep her. Now, I have known- a minister to get five hundred dollars for - buckling a couple; then the wine; cake, and etceteras, five hundred more.; weddingr clothes and jewels a thousand more; six or seven hundred in driving to the springs or some mountain ; -then -a house must be got for eight hundred dollars per annum, and furnished ; at an expense of two or three thousand, and when all is done. his pretty wife can neither make a cake', nor put an apple in a dumpling. Then a cook must - -: be' got for, twenty dol lars per month, a chambermaid, a laud dress. a seamstress, at seven dollars each, and, as the fashionable folly of the day has - banished the mistress from the kitchen, those blessed helps afore said, reign supreme; and while mis tress is playing cards in the parlor, the servants are . playing the devil in the kitchen-4huS lighting !the candle at both ends .it soon burns out.. Poverty tomes in .at the:doer an 4 drives love out ht the win dot+ stupid and expen sive nonsense whieh :deters so many Unhappy Old' bachelors I From entering the state of blessedness. ihenee you find mote deaths than marriages. ' • . QuAtcvn ToasT: l 7 -This 'from` me and mine to thee,end I wish when thou, and thine mine to see' e and mine. that nap.and treat. thee 'and thine A:?:- ) kindly• as :thou and. thine have treated me' and Mine. , ~~ . ME ; • t , , 1 1, tf tUS2 ta. ctvociaaciat Was IE Courtship. The New York tells - the following anecdotes Jonathan walks in. takes - a seat. and looks at Sukey. rakes up the fire,iblows ont- the candle. and don't look it) Jonathan. Jonathan hitches and wriggles about in his chair. and Sukey sit; perfectly stilt. At length Jonathan , Mustera coniage and spealleth.:= Sukey ? Well, Jonatha - n. I lore you like pizen and isweet meats. Dew tell ! 1 It's a tam, and no mistake--wi—will yej hate me Sukey ? Jonathan Higgins, what am your politics ? I'm for Polk straight ! Wall, sir, you can walk right straight hum, core I • win% have nobody that ain't for Clay-4hat's eat. Three eheers for the mill boy of the slashes," s, ng out Jonathan. That your sort ! sayS Sukey. When shall we be , maOiecl. Jonathan ? Soon's Clays elected. Ahem ! A•a-liem ! What's the tr4tter. Sukey-? Sposin he al,n't elected ? • . Jonathan, did n't go away till next morning, but Whether he answered the last question, this deponent . knowet# not. 4ssian The beardedltussian, no matter what influence he may derive from, hid wealth, is stilf a gross barbarian. His odor is insupportable—arising from is variety ef - cauSes, but chiefly from the vapor-bath, villich he is so fond of,, and which he enjoys at a.heat sufficient to cook . fish. Title steaming restiltof this, considering the nature of his diet, may be faintly gue'ssed at. He eats large quantities of the rank hempseed oil, either as a soup, or in his pastry, his buckwheat or his vege tables, during the fast, which lasts half the year. Hut the principal bulk of his food is the fermented cabbage, and the sour blackbreat i y l which is scarcely, more nourishing - than bran. Some , thing of the essence of all these things :eem to streain through his pores with he perspiration. The Emperor Alexander was so sen sitive to Mi l s' peculiarity, thapie used to burn 'perfumes wheneveriny Rus, sians of rank had left hirpresence Hoors OR IIIiNDS.-Mr. Verplanck 3 in his masterly letter before the Meehan ics' Institute, observes thet " several years eat). i in conversing With a very ingeniousand well-informed friend. now deceased, I was Much struck by a transient obServation of his. "In spite," said he, "nf man's boasted intellect, he is as Minh indebted to his pres ent state ineivilized life to the hand as to the head. Suppose," said he, "that the human arm had terminated in a hoof or a claw, instead of a hand, what woyld hair been the present state of society, and how far would mere intel lect have carried us ?" Ido not know. (continued; the lecturer.) ;.whether this idea was original with my friend or not, aithobgh I have never since heard it or met with it in books; and as be did not foll Owl it out any further, I cannot Pay what Iwhere the particular~ conse quences lip meant to infer from it." This grotesque and unphilosophical idea belohgs to Helvetii's, who carried it out as tax as it could he carried.— One Might as wationally conjecture what would ha >e been the condition , of man: kindif they had been constructed so as walk on their heads instead of their‘feet. Mr. Verrilanck, however, uses the idea very skillfully as the the teat for his discourse;'„ (TAGES OF ADVERTISING.—The fork MorOing * Post says :—A. merchant of this city, who has ore - advertising to the press ADVAN' New wealthy' elven than an ,;+ - other merchant here. once told, thel editor of this paper. that he commenced . business with a determiha tion'to expend in advertising all his profits fin. the 'first Att.& years, but that he soot found it impossible to do so ; the,fastei he paid it out, the! more re ceived, and could he have mOnopoliied all the p pens in the city,- he would have been re - l aid tenfold. . . .. . . A Niiw Kixo Or Mon Qumimp-- Mr: Walsh; in his list: letter to the Na tional 'lttelligencer. after • speaking of the,riot ) and violence that a'ttentled the recent election in Greece. says., that in a church, where the ballotbok was held, aigeneral exchange Of blows was. stepped .bv,;:t rustic, whek emptied hive iaSt of ilitt 'coml. • hataiit.; . l": . ME . Zeio Aeo
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