01Olga StITo T IV, ANDA: Gatarbar filornmp , Inlp at!, 1858. Jetta gale, From Chsmners' Packet Miscellany THE CURATE OF LANGBOURN. The ra ys of the autumn sun fell cheerfully on b e tels around Langbourn. as the curate of the Hags, Mr Benson sat out on the path leading :tom his humble dwelling. For some time he wilted onward a ith downcast eyes, and from the a rson of his pale and thoughtful countenance, in , evident that a tinge of melancholy pervaded tionedeations The road to the mansion of his stor, whither he was now proceeding, was a by. jalb tntetsecting rich and well cultivated fields, in which the reapers were prosecuting joyously the too of the harvest Their clear, ringing voices, wad noisy peals of laughter, aroused the curate from at; o:unction, and he felt as if the light-hearted rounds chid him for the pensive character of his Jra iboughis. " The Almighty," said he, " has R id a good and plenteous season,thai his creatures. ..he high and low alike. may have the wherewithal eat; and even the Red breast that chirps across ut path shall have its portion Want has hitherto been mercifully withheld from cro.sing my thresh• aoltl. anti poverty has been too long an inmate of the dwelling, to make ue continuance a thing to be dreaded. Alas'. How unwilling is my tongue to utter, or my heart to admit,.that there is a deep er cause for the hear itiesf. ihat oppresses Me ! Ma rc, my beloved child,. it is thy lading cheek and 3ronping spurts that my soul would fain exclude tae knowledge of from itself, for the temporal corn i‘tris and means that might revive thee are not in mit power! Uttering a p.oue wish for the object of as anxiety, and beseeching resignation to his own wand, the curate walked on ward to the abode of his minor. _ Betme relating the purpose and tenor of the in terview between the rector and the curate, we may 'Jescribe briefly to the reader these personages themselves. The rector was a man of portly pre sence, haughty and grave, even to sternness in his address. His origin was humble, for he was the ran at a pool tradesman, and the presentation to -the icings he r.ocv enjoyed had beew the resnli , of i,ang service as tutor Ma family of rank. Though tot meanly descended, the rector was a proud sad his object on acquiring the rectory had teen to unite himself with a well connected lady, trio though considerably beyon6 her prime, form edabond between her husband and the la:mires a! taut in the neighborhood. Still the churchman it,d net turfy luau, his object, :or though elevated estation in his own eyes and even in those of his minors, by the marriage, those with whom lie was VIIOUP to mingle were not conciliated by ?erk,al mt..' its to overlook the humility of his na ,anir Thai was unfortunate for him in more 'pan o-e respect ; those with whom he might have ‘r , fietly as.ociated. he now considered hIIIINeIf errant above , and not being admitted freely o th e higher class of society, he Rood tri sOrne [nee ea:a in a lonely and even solitary posnioir His ~ !1 vas not of an age to'rmliveri his home with valtdren sod by degrees the temper of the rector; vcch was t aurally social : became liaughty arid loured He was by no means uncharitatte.but his rtvitt,4 were sadly affected by prejudices; and be hit: imbibed, during his intercourse with the high e'ClaiPeP, the doc . rme that poverty IP mdispensa• he, and indeed a blessing, to the lower orders of sze:y. in every well regulated state Mr Be!).4.11, the curare. vra. in many re.peos rt.rrrar.t i tit: i.clor He ma. mi.k.k. gmt.tle, and vra. belnved arr.t Pr. rented .Ire G1;1401 7,1111 , 4PI Lnkgbourn He vra, the immednue , teseendary of a family that had been ol c Ainitir imp , rattce to 04 neighborhood : and all. Cur mmlyaNce, together/ with his general charactvr, tale him tespectei even to quarters which firs p•ll• Pe'q'r ct , ttitl not propitiate An early love marriage prevented hts struggling, like his fellows tot ktnt.cet.t,tit in the church, and made them glad ate reluge from want in a curacy ul £35 a year HA site die,' without leaving any family, and the rc're 'KA into his home a widowed sister and ter ahly child, to whom he was deeply attached.-- Hintece, Mary Warner, was now about the age o!eighteen, a slender and elegant' , formed young woman, With one ol the sweetest and most expres lite 01 cotritenatices„ the index to her amiable mind She had lately been residing for sometime with an turn WA considerable distance, and. since her return time, had to the distress ol her fond un cle autl pa:eta, drooped both in health and spurts. Never hail the cur dle f e l l t he narrowness of his in Coale S D fererely as when it limited his means of procuring necessary comforts for his beloved niece. Ale Bvt!.on was on his way to the rectory, to re mire hia half yearly pittance and it grieved him to how mall a balance would be lett after the papteni of ,he debts already incurred. 0;. tettchutg tnet rector's goodly ; though.old lash. 'zed mansion. burietEin venerable woods, which .Ae rocks had for centuries held as their peculiar "'main, he was snotcri by one of the servants unto a7 ' .e chamber. %s tit the promise that his (ever. ence shouid be informed of the sittlior's presence. • n iertznutert elapsed betore the servant re-appear. tirlich time Mr Benson, on looking around, er , u4.l not help contrasting the duties of` the rector wi 'h• his own and the difference in the reward.— Ile though, however, was rebuked as quickly as 4 arose and he uttered a prayer that has reward Nht be, not temporal but spiritual and eternal.— lie wa s at length ushered into the presence 01 his I `Mtr~Or SA down, sit down, Mr. Benson," said the rec. - I hope your family are well. Pray, excuse e for keeping yon wailing; my wile's cousin, Sit hast called, in.! WO Weil erzagicli : , ' ' .' ' ''' ... . . . - . . . . . . . . , . . . .. . „ , . .. . . . THE . .. • . , ~. . : , •, TER. . .. . . . . . .. i EP. I tf 1 in Pipping a giaps of port. Here, Peter, bring a glaPs of wine for Mr. Benson." The rector hail acquired a taste for good wine during his tutorship, and was really a critical judge otrta merits. The i oor curate sighed almost audibly as he raised the glass placed before him to his lips, and thought of the dear one whose declining health such a cordial might revive, while to him it was tise les.. as it was tindesired. The rector continued to de-c..iit on The subject of his visitor and relation, Sir John, and the qualities of wine, to all which the curate listened patiently. At last, on mention being made of the business for which M. Bension came, his reverence said : " Thirty five pounds is a large sum, sir, and with the other perquisites altogether, I bare no doubt a handsome enough living. Indeed, Mr. Benson, 1 have jest had an offer from a young man, a very valuable person, to perform the duty for thirty pounds. The curate was too much struck by this announce ment to make any reply. The thought had some times occurred to him that, could he overcome his pride as far as to Inform the rector how much need there was of an augmentation ot salary, it was pos. siffle that it might be granted by that gentleman,as the duties of the curacy were more extensive than usual. This hope had taken a deeper hold of his mind than he himself was sensible 01, till it was thus overthrown, and the prospect of losing his pit tance, small as it was, presented in its stead. The rector probably saw the depression hts words had ceused, and he proceeded to say : "True must be thought ot, Mr. Benson, in the mean time, you will of course go oh with your du ties; ve may speak of toe reduction at some future I= _ The servant had been called into the robin pre— vious to this speech, and his master directed him to psy the salary to Mr. Benson He then left the room, imagining, no doubt, that he had acted char itably in not pressing an immediate reduction ; a view of the subject certainly not coi:lcided in bY . the other party concerned. The rector derived his inforthation regarding the Whirs of the parish, both clerical and local, chiefly Iron, the lips of inferior functionaries, to whose pur poses and projects Mr. Benson's integrity had of. ten proved a barrier. The perquisites attached 'to 0 e :uracy were insignificant, and the rector had been maliciously misinformed on the subject. As the curate pursuetrhis walk homewards, in deeper depression than before, he thought with regret of having permitted this impression to remain on the mind of his superior, and resolved to explain it away, if possible,at an early opportunity, either per sonally or in writing His mind then reverted to his sister and niece, and he reached his home with a load on his spirits which he in yarn. endeavored to dispel Th. curate's dwelling t% ti Plow white-washed Colidge, consisting, tow-it:ally of Two small rooms, with sleeping apartments attached to them In the parlor. at the moment of Mr Benson's return, sat May and h'er mother, engaged iti some lemmioe i.ccupatwri. The cloud on her uncles brow Was soon observed by the niece and she sat down by maliowsly iliquiriug at the same time if he were well The cora e parted the locks from her beautiful and high forehead. and kissed her aflec untimely beftne he answered her question "Were you well. dearest, little care would affect me, but as long asr your cheek is pale and then, Mary.'so long must Ibe ill at ease You take no ailequ - aie srippor , and seem. indeed, in the condi. non which poet:. describe as characteristic of true love unrewarded." He spoke this itt a painful tone of reproaoh.w Oh out ohs.. ry tog the effects of his latigiue. Many .roil became pale alternately ; and au aecu i ate °u-elver tntytht have believed that the analogy out. ummiteetic2, by the curate, Mae nut fat t r.tu :he truth. Ti nw mi g ht have even ocour• reo to ham-elf. uo-uvienius as he was. had nut an sot !rural occurred from vhe delivery of n letter by a boy at the, cottage door. The curate read it aueloively and, simply saying that he was going to the village, row end left the house. The letter which-the curate received ran as foi- 10%18 To the Curate,' Langborrn—Sir, I take the freedom of aildres,ing you, fur a reason that can only be explained on a personal interview, which I beg of you most earnestly to grant me as early as your convenience will permit. A STRANGLO The messenger brought it from the village inn, and 'here an answer was expected by the writer it can scarcely be said that the circumstance exci ted much culto-ity in the mind of Mr. Benson, though the hand writing was that of an educated person, and such was not'the common way in which ordinary tales of distress came to the benevolent curate's ear. His mind, however, was fully pre occupied with the disheartening prospects Held out in the interview with the rector. Belore proceeding to the inn, be resolved to pay a visit to the tradesmen who supplied his family with necessaries, trial discharge their several ac counts As he reached, with this intent the door of the village butcher. he heard his own name men tinned within, end, not desirous of hearing either evil or good of himself, stepped into the house at once. The party conversing with the butcher was the rector's servant, who alter hastily saluting the curate, left the place. The master of the shop was a man of very middling character, and no favorite of Mr. Benson's a cireamithance the former knew well enough, but wr,ich the absence of any rivals in his trade entitled him, in his opinion, to -disre gard. After the account was settled,the curate was about to take his leave, when his attention was arrested by some words muttered indistinctly, and with some d eg ree of embarrassment, by the butch er, regarding future paymeres. On being asked, the man,•recovertng his usual unblushing con 6. deuce, repeated what be Ina said; and the aerate found to hie dismayithal the babbling servant of PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA:, BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. - •• " agoatan.r.ss OP Dzsuocurior PROM ANT QUAILITIL" the rector had overheard the conversation at the rectory. respecting the reduction of his salary, the repetition of which to the butcher had produced the unwillingness to give the usual credit. " God pity and `help my poor sister and Mary if others should act with me like this man !" thought Mr. Benson to himself; as he left the shop in silence. None of the other tradesmen to whom the curate gave the sums they were entiflitid to repeated the conduct or sentiments of the butcher; but the anx ious fears of the clergyman suggeited that this for. bearance might be owing to their ignorance of the eamercircumstances. After the last account was discharged the curate found himself with hole of his salary remaining, and with melancholy prospects jar the future. In this state he still remembered that his services were required, and uttering a hope internally that the distress—for distress he was prepared to find— might not be pecuniary he entered the little inn at Langbourn. The boy who had been the bearer of the letter appeared to be in waiting for him and conducted him up stairs, where opening the door of a small apartment, he merely uttered the words, " the curate, sir," to a person within, and then re. tired. The stranger was seated at a table, from which he immediately rose.. He was apparently not above two or three and twenty, with a tall and handsome person,-and a countenance strikingly open and beautiful. The blush with which he met his visi tor heightened the ingenuousness of of his look, and his manlier had an air of breeding and refinement which appeared, despite the faded dress which he wive. " I have to.apologize, sir, said he to the curate, " for the great liberty. I have taken, though it will appear greater when I state to you its ob ject " "Respectfully handing a choir to Mr Benson, and.begging him to seta himself, the stranger con tinued: " I am at present, in a situation that makes me blush for the imprudence that has placed me in it, and made such an explanation as this necessary. It is necessary that you should know all the cir cumstances which led me to this onfottutiate situa tion. My father was a general officer in the army, who fell in battle when I was a child, and was fol lowed to the grave soon after bi my mother. My lather's elder and only brother, who possessed the family estate, was the guardian to whom the dying lips ormy mother consigned me, and never toes charge so affectionately executed. My uncle was unmarried, and having some tam* pride in his disposition, brought me up as he ,f i tiaught the heir of the estates, and the supporter 41 the name ought to be. He was but too kind to me, and since my boyho , al has striven to gratify my wishes in every respect. This generated in me habits of paying too much deferet.ce to my own will, and too little to that of others ; and rational lookers on would have called me, I am afraid. a spoiled child._ Atter returning from the university, I took up my residence for some rime in the country, with my uncle, intending speedily to set out on my travels Here occurred the circumstances which were the occasion of my first tli-notes with my kind uncle and which have caused me to be here, but which sod'. in some respeo•s. I never can regret Near my,uncie's residence is a small village, which, in my rides and walks around the neighborhood I had frequent occasion to pass through. I met there, • while calling accidentally at the huose of a friend, a young lady whose beauty struck me indescriba bly at the fret view. I will not endeavor to paint to you the charms of mind anti disposition which I found her, on 'unbar knowledge, to possess; suf fire it 10 say, that the impression made by them is not and never can be erased from my heart. I often visited the family in which she resided, and indulged for some time in a species of dream, onto which I was suddenly awakened by my on• cle's discovery ol the object ol my visits to the vil lage. He commanded me to give up an attachment which was so derogatory to the dignity of the fami- The irritated state of my uncle's feelings ccristrain ed me to put some guard upon my own. I with drew from his presence in silence, but it was only to seek that presence where alone I felt happiness You will pardon these expressions, sir, for I am still a lover. I could not conceal from the object of my affection what had occurred, and the tear that dimmed her lovely eyes, grieved at the same time that it charmed me. This was the first time that my heart was satisfied that my passion was re turned ; and though the proof was given at the very moment that she was exhorting me to forget her forever, it gave me consolation even then She bade me farewell, and I have never again teen her. Her residence in the village was, I should have in. formed you, merely temporary ; and when I re turned on the following day to her relation's house, I Kum] that she had taken her departure, and had, besides, directed her friends, as her peace of mind was valued, not to acquain(me with her home, which, during the entrancement of our love, f hid not been informed of, though I knew the position in life of her friends to be respectable. I returned to my lancle's house to despair, and angry words passed) between my kind relation and myself. In whorl. sir, instead of remaining to attempt to pacify and reconcile my uncle to what I left to be neces sary to my happiness, .1 was imprudent enough to l ease his house with the determination not to re urn to it. I wandered about the country for some time, hoping always that a chance meeting might occur with her I loved ; but this romantic idea was never gratified. •• The money I had taken with me being expen ded, and pride, and other causes still making the idea of returning home odious to me, I was forced, for mere subsistence, to rip myself a few days ago to a band of strolling playels. We arrived at this inn last night, and this morning I bound that my companions had disappeared early, leaving the bonhetrof the eight's lapeßeeswoo. myself. Bat I also, found in this paper, lifting it from the table, .... ... urbiu grieved me more. Here is an advenisement informing 'me of my uncle's illneav, and entreating my return, at the same time declaring that all my wishes abed be gratified." The cantle had listened with much interest to the stranger's story, and look the newspaper handed to him After reading the advertisement, he said : " I hope sir, you have no other intention but to return as soon as possible to your family'!" '• Most assuredly I shall," said the stranger.— " The cause which detained me for a moment from the road thither, is the necessity of paying the sum required by the people of the house. If you do me this favor, sir, yon will have my thanks for per mitting me to go where my presence will bring comfort." The curate rose without reply and motioning the stranger to keep his seal, left the room. On his re turn, Mr. Henson mentioned to the young man that the necessary sum was paid; and with the freedcm of a clergyman and a senior, gave him some pa tern if and friendly admonition, at the same time pointing out the extreme impropriety of the conduct of which he had been guilty, and the mi.ery that almost invariably follows the course of lite into which he had recklessly plunged He whom he addressed, like the repentant pia digal, was deeply affected even to tears by the friendliness of the tone and counsel, and said.when the curate ceased, I shall never forget your coon eel, sir, nor the obligation you have eon ferred on a stranger,—one, indeed, who does not know the name of his benefactor Tas yet know you and have heard of yon by no other name than that of curate. My own name is Norton, Charles Norton, with the bearer of which I hope you will be further acquainted." The curate gave his name in return, and reques ted Mr. Norton, before leaving the village, to visit his residence, advising him at the same time to de. far his de, allure till next morning, as the day was tar advanced. After a promise to that effect the curate and Mr. Norton parted. The rector and everything connected with his own circumstances, were for a while. obliterated from Mr. Benson's mind by the interest excited by the young stranger's story ; and such is the pleaa. ing effect that a benevolent action, however trifling in itself, terries on the mind ref the doer that the depression of his spirit did slot return, in the same degree of severity. On entring his hon o he was affectionately reproached for neglecting his usual meal but warded oft the censure by stating, after satisfying his hunger, that he had a tale to tell foe their gratification. Even Mary's languor was dis sipated for the time by the tilings ; but when the curate commenced the narration, the attention of the young lady soon changed to strong emotion. "Out of delicacy," said Mr. Benson, when he came to the stranger's falling in love, " I dad no t inquire the name at the lady, nor did he mention it, but his own name is Charles Norton." Mary utiered not a word, but in a fainting con dition, let her head fall on the ahouldet 01 her mother '• I see it all !" exclaimed the curate. as the idea flashed across his mind which may already have been in our readers, i• it is our own Mary of whom I have been speaking !" Besting her head upon her mother's bosom, she confessed at their anxious entreaties, thnit she was the unfortunate object of Charles'Norion'd love, and that she had concealed the circumstance from them to spare their feelings, and hoping that time would remove the impression lett upon her mind. Her uncle and mother were Ailed with anxiety fur her, and preveiled upon her to go to rest immediately, which she only consented to on hearing the issue of the story from the curate. The curate deliberated long and earnestly with his sister that night, whether a would be'proper to admit Norton's visit in the morning, alter what had come to their know letlge. The result was that a letter was despatched to him at an early hour stat ing plainly what Mr Benson had learned since their in tervetv. and declining a visit at that moment on account of the possible danger from an agitating meeting to Mary, who bad not been informed that he was still in the village. The note was written in trienily but dedided language and a brief and hurried reply was returned by Charles Norton, ex pressing deep anxiety for Mary's health, ant at the same time hoping that though it might be improp er to receive him at present, he might be permitted at no distant date to see one so dear to him, and whom he bad so long desired to see in vain. Nothing was heard by the curate's family of him on whom the happiness of its most beloved member depended till a few weeks after the circumstances we have related. when a letter with a black seal arrived fur Mr. Benson It was from Charles Nor ton and contained an account of his uncle's death which the wrier stated to have been occasioned, according to the opinion al the atiehdtng surgeons, by confirmed dropsy of many year's standing. This had relieved the writer's mind, he said, of a great load. " As soon as circumstances will permit," con tinued the letter, " I shall visit Langbontn, when I hope to be allowed to visit my dear Mary, and of. ter her myself arid all that I have in the world " Need we to add that Map's cheek soon recover. ed its bloom, and that a few month. aherwords she became the wife of the obiect of her early and only atlectiun. In the comlotts also, of a moderate liv nig, to which he was presented by Mr Norton, an d in the happiness of seeing the children of his be loved Mary spring up like olive plants around him, the curate of,Langbourti forgot the unkindly bear of the lector and his threatened reduction of salary. Q ::?.. Mrs. Partitive' wattle to know why they don't bring the whole of Cbitia over at once, in, stead of bringing it in junks. (Kr A man of pont - genic!! can no more J.rea; bimaell offivedom of opaoaot► than of ate lea►u;e of hie lace. ISE= From WWI-wood. Quadrille and Polka• We wonder whether it has never . occurred to some mortified mother, who, for tome three or four consecutive seasons, has paraded her:daugh ters at every ball and fashionable gathering, and undergone more trouble in helping toidissipate their natural roses than the ever expended in their edit cation—to ask herself the question whether, after all, she is following:the . best method, of teeming, not the happiness of her children, but their settle ment in lite? It is a very momentous question, but we fear some mothers never take it into con sideration. Having in their younger days, passed through the fire before die Moloch of fishion, they take it for granted that there is but one custom to be observed, and one course to be pursued. In the ball room they were wooed and Won ;and why should not their daughters achieve their destiny in the like locality Do trot—youn; the prettiness of your brows by knitting them hastily and severely before you have heard our argument. We do nor intend, by anytmears, to pronounce an elaborate discourse a.'arnst the vanities of social society— neither is it our wish that-you should attain \ that cerulean hue, which, aa Dickey Milnes, or some other modern poie', tells us is grateful in the eyes of Minerva. " The purple light of luve"—these are not our words, for the blush•rose is the only fit emblem—on your cheeks, is worth all the indigo in the world. We do not desire that you should be over literary ; and wa. consider a total indiffer ence for science, to be an excellent thing in woman . Never shall we forget the area of female faces that beamed upon us when, at a late meeting of the British Association, we read our celebrated paper on " The History of the Lost Plead " We saw, as it wear, the glittering Of a thousand stars; but all of them shot their rays through spectacles. Never, with our consent, shall you be cooped up, and pre vented from indulging to the full in the innocent gayety of your hearts. But we have a word or two to say to ihe mammas. . Madam whom you first came out or made yon debut—foi that was then the term in vogue—do you happen to remember what were the manners of the ball-room! Let us refresh your Memory. The staple dance vas the quadrille, perhaps not a very lively piece of pantomime, but one which, from its nature, afforded ample opportunity for conversation, (you may Call it flina . ion if you like.) and was neither, in its farm, to reserved or too familiar. It was all grace and decorum. It admit ted of a slight and tremulous pressure of the hand —nothng more—between parties ripe fur declara tion; and often, during the pause before the fast figure, the attitude of some blushing beau t 3, plucking unconseiously a splendid camel ha to pieces, left little doubt of the nature of those whispers which ber partner had been pouring into her ear. Like Margaret in the Faust, the swe e t girl was but essaying to prove her destiny from the pestals of the flower. For those in a less advanced stage of understanding, !here was the contredanse, and the reel, with various other gymnastics, al! of a harmless nature. But Satan had entered into Panuitse, though to a mild form. We may now, our dear maiden recall, without anything like bit te,ness of feeling, the days when we indulged to. gether in the sweet to °sire:inn of the wal . z. It was really—we confess it with a touch of the old Adam—a most fascinating innovation. You den eed divinely ;and a more clipsome waist than yours we never spanned. Once, indeed, we thought—but no more of that ! You married, of your free will and accord, that red haired monster .McTavish, in vir. toe of his imaginary reat s roll; and, long ago, our a.zony of mind, like the remembrance of an old toothache, has us:parted. Bnt it was pleasant to revolve,:linked with you over the Assembly Rooms when Spindler was in his glory, an 1 when the waltz was kept, at least, within something like de cent limits. Long before then Byron, who certain ly was not straight-laced, bad pcblished his poem of the " Waltz;" arid, without subscribing to, his views upon our penistrephic performances, we must needs own{ that his satire is of double value now. The waltz, as we danced it, was decent ol:rire kind. No father of a lamely, we think, whatpvet he the practices. of fashion, can rejoice in seeing Iris daugh ter's waist spanned by the arm of seine ilebauelied dragoon, o haw advances she can hardly refuse without coagniiiing a , breach of the idoti cal rul-s which modem usuage inculcates Surely, in a free country, a woman ought to be tree iu her choice esen rit a temporary partner ; and the base notion which prevails, that a lady, by refusing the invitation of one man to (Love, is deoarred from accepting a more congenial offer, is utterly foreign and repugnant to the rules of c'.ivalry. be the ball or bower, the ladies are paramount, and they ough: to exert their authority—rernembe.ing this, the slightest murmur against their decision ought to be considered an offence against knightly courtesy 1. would bewßll tt we bad a female habitual:with full powers of expulsion from swiety, to ad,udicatc upon such matters - . But, not to perpetrate a digression in favor of Provencal usages, let us return to the ma' er ut question. We maintain now that Lord Byron, writing under the name of ft ,race flotriem. was fully justified in the utterances of every couplet.— The poet 5 a seer; and though we perhap •, iu our younger day a_ could descry no impropr,et) ,n the wal i. whrch merely admitted us toe nearer degree of comact than the former Terpsichore...it meio tic-ins, the profit emral eye of the bard fore-aw the neces , sry consequence. The character of the waltz gradual:y become changed. From a graceful rotary monun, a deenerated in•o a Bacehic movement similar, no doubt, to the first Thespan pettormatt res, mere intended, as scholars tell us, to be in honor ut iris young Lleyas. Then came the graf i oppe, which was a still further manifestation of the triumphal pcoce.ssioa of 4riad-e. Dincitig, as one now rece:fed is itch 11==r=1 = You saw an infuriated looking lellow throw ill arms around a girl's Waist, and rush oft wilts *or as if he had been one of the troopsofßomtillitab ducting a reluctant Sabine. Sabine, hoirerer,Milate no remonstrance, but went along with him guile cordially They punned a species of batlike nice" nronnd The room—jerking, flitting backing ana pirouetting, Whhotitlule, and without any, west* of grace, until breath tailed them, and the piloting virgin was pulled up short on theorm of her Naples ing partner. Ghost of Count Wim;lion! shade of De Gramnicint! has , it really some to this! Vol; knew, in your day, something about, the Gist* maines and others; but never did you witneu r in pobtic at least, such orgies as British matrons and mothers now placidly contemplate and approri.. This, however, called Lir a reform; and it was reformed By what! By the introduction of the polka—the favorite dance, and tto wonder,•ol the Csssion. View i. philosophically, and you find it to be neither more or less than the nuptial dance of Gaucho-I and Ariadue. Our mothers or gratodnintit: era were staggered, and some'of them shocked, at t he introduction of the ballet in the opera honieti. What would they say now, could they see one til their female descendents absolutely in the embrace of Some hairy animal—fronting him—linked to him —drawn to him=—hei head reclining on his shodis der, and he perusing her charms—esevutipg Ile most ungraceful of all possible movements, at the will of a notorious Tomtioddy 1 No doubt every thing is innocent, and the dance is condocted one side at least—with perfect purity of idea. ;liii, somehow or other, these grappling", Nominee, ane approximations, look ;rather odd in the eyes of the unprejudiced spectator ; and we, who hare seen tile feats of Egyptian Almas almost surpaseetl in British ball-rooms, may be pardoned for expreasr ing our eon viction, that a tMle—nay a good deaf-4 more of feminine reserve than is presently pme%- tised, would be vastly advantageous to. the yogi*" ladies who resort to those haunts which they hate been taught tocausider as the matrimonial ba.- Saar. Of course, we do not expect that any of the rats Bacchantes will give the ;lightest heed to what w say. If one of them chance.—tned and languid as she is from last night's polka, through which she has been hurried in the nervous embraie of Cap• lain Faz.urse, of the Dagroons—to pealse these pa. gee, she will set us down as a vinagated aid Cat• vinist, who knows nothing whatever of the ways of modern society We shall Do linked to lobe Kuoi, who once took upon himself the ungracious task of lecturing the Queen's Mattes But neither Mary Seaton, Mars Beautoun, Mary Fleming het Mary Livingstone, ever rushed frantically through the halls of flalyrood in the gripe of Chastain or of Bothwell—indeed, had such been the easel - the hands of.the grim old barons, their fathers, woeM have instinctively have grasped the poignartL W abuse nut dancing—we simply contend against its abuse. The effect of it is jest this, that the, axed invetera e devotees of 1113 polka have the' feast chance of being married. No man of refinement l.kes to see the object of his affections praperag wildly in the arms of another. Cupid, as the Americans say, is" a ekeary critter and a very little matter indeed is sufficient to make hint tats wind. Let the ladies take OW word for it, that'ref. ttuence is a virtue greatly appreciated by Enar.kihd. Many a goung man has entered the ball room with a mind thoroughly made up for an avowal, andleft it with a determination to have nothing mail to say to the lady whose breath has fanned- this whiskers of a whole regimental mess. Among the accomplishments which en'er into a matrimonial calculation, defness in the polka has but a very subordinate share. Were it otherwise, the aim ! ple,t method 'would be to select a partner for life from the ranks of the carps-de ballet It is the do: mestic graces and accomplishments that constitute the great fascination of woman; and these can only be seen and duly displayed in the family chtler ignentsu Stu nig Tol.ss —After Jawing orneume with the long eard doorkeeper, Jedediatt Homespun up and spent a quarter to see the Sta• met.e Twins. Looking at the curious pair for 100 nine, Jed Dusted : '• How lon have you fellows been in that kind of hivh " Furl two 'years," was Eng's reply. Du tell Gil/in kind u) used to it, 1 calculate, ain'tcoot' We ought to be," said thei. . " Yes, [wow you ought'. Yoe sellers bekerg to the same church—'spect you do?" - .• " Yes, mdeed," said Chang. t 6 Want in k no w ! Wall I swan, you are hitch r etl queer," +said leJ , rainpiely ezarniuwg tbe_ ligi• It one et you tenets clies"tother feller *lll in a pnekor, I recon." " Would be bad," said Chang. " Don't drink motile, I guest—ewer go io to swim!" • Sometimes," said they. Afer gazing at them a few miumes Jed atraia busts : " L here, 'spore one of yea SOW, got fratia fenpn, and was about to be nut in'llittolt i J:foil • m4::age 'hat 1" says rd ao Charig's bait:" tJ mi l. )ep ta !, by 1 , , - .1i1:" „ :tede,it.di, I,a. tug exhausted tits CTOIIW, ale arninvion, weo t.tl wono:mg. gtrmga tank= examiners room to put the Twins thotrtiet'ae of timilat qcouts [t7" A Conneciiech dame the mortis/ of a-laras family, was ono day stoked Ihe nn mberofbetchiP dire, Li me !J she replied, rot -Linz herself to and fro, r• I've got feorteen, Mosey bcovi ttnli There is a mart wtio;s* he Itiatillairitii eveuin; parties, out, west where the "'k.4:o. hug io hart that their .riles ca.e In a ..iiet44fritodi m r ye rte T.ar. MIMI .ks; ~~ E E=M=‘,74l OEM EMI
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