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IitEODOREH, CREMER.
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PC." 3 T z .
"To charm the languid hours of solitude,
He oft invites her to the Muges lore."
11 0 RE . M
In early days. when childhood's charms
Hang sweetly round our happy hearts,
When love's caress is wild and warm,
And purn the joy that life imparts—
When home is home, and friends, though few,
Watch O'er our weal with anxious eye;--
'Tis then life wears its brightest hue,
And memory takes its deepest dye.
Long years may lift their leaden tramp.
And checker life with hopes and fears—.
Misfortune light her lurid lamp,
And toed its flames with naught but tears—
Or friendship bless, or fortune smile,
Of pleasure wait where'er we roam—
Still, still will memory oft beguile
From each, from all, a thought of home.
I would not that a stranger hand
Should hold for me the dreamless pillo*;
I would not that a stranger hand
Should place o'er me a weeping willow:
The sod so often lightly premed,
Would on my bosom press more lightly;
The stars that have my childhood blessed,
Would o'er My slumber beam most brightlj.
Oh! may the breeze, that kissed my brow,
. Ere life hail known a stain of 00010 W,
Breathe out the wave-toned requiem low,
For sleep that knows no dawning morroW
And when the sun is neoth the wove,
And faintly beams the star of even,
Then bear me to my sea girt grave,
And let a prayer ascend to heaven.
Prnm the Portsmnuth *hem.
To a 72'oang air!.
What! bind op now thy sunny hnir
Noy, let those ringlets float,
A. Ulu were wont, in beauty there,
Around that snowy throat.
And scorn not now thy simplo dress,.
Nor veil that open brow ;
Retain thy lovely childothness,
And :hotel!. be happy now.
Thou'lt find the path of life is filled
With sorrows, hopes and tears,
And, though thou'rt good and pure and fair,
Thouit be a thing of tears.
Thy hours of pinyful innocence—
speed them not in their flight
.But be a child while yet thou may'st,
The beautiful, the bright.
V i e ,
rYr~~r~r~rwnr M 1 \I V ~+Jn
DADDY BIGGS' SCRAPE
AT COCK.LRELL'S.J3END,
'WRITTEN FOR TIIE SMUT OF TIIE TIMES, TIT T.
"CHICKEN MAN; " TIIE AUTHOR in. "SIMON
RN.° ;" •‘• TASSING Tut FENS., " ECT.
Cocherell's Bend is a well known rendezvous
for the hunter and fisher of the Talopoosa—and a
beautiful one it is. The upper end of the.cuwe is
lake.like in an stillness, and in very deep; while a
half mile below, the river spreads itself to double
its usual width, and brawls among rocks and islet.,
fringed with the toll iver grass. The part above
is resorted to by those who fish with the rod, and
that below by seiners. Opposite the deep water,
the hills come towering down to within twenty
yards of the river, the narrow intervening strip be
ing low land, covered with a tremendous growth of
rum, poplar and white oak. Late in the afternoon
of a Warm May day, this portal the Bend is d most
delie,htful spot. The little mountains on the south
and west exclude the sun-glare completely ; and the
mere comfort-seeker may lay himself fiat in the
bottom of the old Indian Verige he finds moored
there by a grape vine, and float and look at the
clouds, and dream—as I hove done—with no.hiving
thing in night to disturb his meditations. except the
musk-rat on the end et the old projecting log, and
the matronly summer duck, with her brood of tiny
ducklings, smarming, close hudd.ed, in the shade
of the huge water oak, whose overhanging limbs
are covered with a close net-work of muscadine
vines--whereof (of the vines I Mean) I have a
story of arc friend, Captain - Snuggs, Which will he
related at the proper tune. Take care, ye little
downy . rascals!—especially you, little follOw, with
half awes;;; Eli,‘ll stuck to your hack! True, therii
are tiot many of large trout in the Tallapoosa; hut
there are some, and occasionally one is found of
mouth sufficient to engorge a young duck!—ant(
'Canna alwitys in a cool quiet shade just like
hist ? snaP!—there you go, precisely as I told you!
Now, old lady, quit that fussing end fluttering, and
take the • young 'inlet' out of the way of that oilier
one that isn't far oft Trituration in a trout's maw
must be unpleasant ono would think !
It chanced once that the writer encamped for a
slay or WO on the narrow strip spoken of, with a
UsT:
edrttpnny of the unsophisticated dwellers of the
rough lands in that region, of whom the principal
pe,onnge was • Daddy Elias Biggs,' sometimes
called 'Daddy tias,' but more commonly Daddy
Biggs. We Were on a fishing expedition, and at
night hung a short line or two from the braricbee
of the'trees which overhung the water, for cat.'--
One night, as we hod justi.ono this and were gath
ered around the fire, a gallon jug passing from band
to hand. Daddy Diggs,'—who Was a short, squab
man, rosy cheeked, bold, and inclining to three
score,'—remarked, as he extended his hand towards
a long. gaunt fellow with a very long rioso'and a
very blackbeard—
. Boys tint you never hearn what a scrape I had
here at this very spot, last year 1 Billy Teal, let
me have a suck at that yearthenwar, and I'll tell
you all shout it.'
The old man took a suck,' smacked his lips,
and began his relation:
'You all remember the time, hays, when them
Chateeospn fellows came liere a fishinl D-n
'em! I wish they cook: fish at home, without
goM' twenty miles to interrupt other people's range.
Well, they camped right here, and right here THEY
REED T. OYVIL 1'
'Seed the Devil r exclaimed Pilly Teal.
.Did they, in right dowd earnest now r asked
Jim Waters, looking around at the dark woods, and
insinuating himself between Abe Ludlow and the
fire, in evident fright.
They seed the Devil,' ropeatetf Daddy Biggs,
with emphasis—'and ketehed him too!' be added,
but they couldn't hold him.'
'Good gracious!' said Jim Waters, looking a
round again—'do you think he stays about here?'
—and Jim got nearer to the fire.
4 He stays about here sonic,' replied Daddy Biggs.
But Jim, son, get out from the fire!--you'll set
y6ur over hauls afire !--and git me the sperrits.—
I buss the jug agin, and tell you all about it.' -'
Bill Teal had deposited the jug behind a log some
ten feet off; but Jim Waters was not the lad to
back out, if the devil teas about ; so he made two
desperate strides and grabbed the yearthen-war,'-
anil then Made Iwo more, which brought him, head
first, jug and all into the fire. Chunks and sparks
flew everywhere, as lie ploughed through!
He's got you, Jim !' shouted Abe.
Pull the boy out !' exclaimed Bill and myself,
in a breath, or he'll burn up !'
'Some on ye save the —jag !' seienmed
Daddy Biggs, who was standing horror-stricken at
the idea of being left without liquor in the woods.
In it minute both boy and jug were rescued; the
former with burnt face and hands, and singed hair
--the latter entirely uninjured. '
ell, well,' chuckled Daddy Biggs, 'we come
outen that fast rate—the jug ain't hurt, nor no li
quor spilt. But Jim I'm raly 'ittonished at yett!—
pitchen in the'fire that way, and you a-knowin that
was every drop of sperrits we had!'
Oh, but Daddy LMs,' interposed Dick McCoy,
yon must look over that—he Need the devil!'
Well, well, that minds me I was gwtne to tell
you all shout that scrape I hail with them Chato.
hospa fellows, last suthmer.; so I'll squeeze the jug
one time more, and tell you all shout it.
Throwing his head into an admirable position for
trilthig a view of things heavenly. Daddy Biggs in
serted the mouth of the jug in his own mouth,when
for a short space there was a sound which might be
spelled, ;'--
and then Daddy Biggs set the jug down by him,
and limn his story once name.
boys, they hail camped right here, and
had set out their hooks for cat (fish) jilt as we've
done to-night. Right thar this side re what. Bill's
line bangs, some on em had tied a most a devil of a
hook,'from that hig limb as goes straight out thar.
He must-a-had a kunnoo to fasten it whar lie did,
else Conned it on the top o' the limb. Well, it's
alien] swimmin under that limb, 'but that's a big
sock, in the shape of a sugar loaf, cameo up in six
inches o' the top. Right round that was whar I'd
ItelciA the monsirou seat most oudaciousestAppeloosa
cat, week betbre, that ever come oaten the Tal
lapoosy ; and they'd hearn of it, and the fellow with
the big Imo:: was a &hire for his mate. D-n
it, boys, it makes me mad to think how them Chat
ohospa fellows and the town folks do 'trade on we
rooter people; and when I'm aggrawated I tillers
drinks, so here goes
Daddy Diggs threw back his head again—again
put the jug's mouth in his own, and again produ
ced the sound of • guggle uggle, uggle uggle,' and
then resumed :
'This Lig-hook fellow I was tellin about, his
name was Jess Cole, which lives in the Bottom
thar war Chatoliospa falls into the A oota Locko.
and :inn got more it hall sense at that.'
✓That's the follow used to strike for Vince Kick•
land, in the blacksmith's shop nt Deed's, afore
Vince died, aint it!' asked Bill Teal.
That's hint,' said Daddy Biggs, 'and that's how
come to know him, for I sued him Sitar once, tho'
I can't say he knowed me. Well he waked up in
in the night, and heerd a terrible of a sloshin at the
end of his line, and says he, 'Rise boys! I've got
him! durn my skin if I !mint!' And sure enough
there was something flonncin, sloshin and nmkin a
devil of a comboberation at the end of his line.
Jess he sprung up, and got a long stick with a hook
at one end, and retehed out and cotcht the line and
tried to pull it in; but the thing on the hook gave
a flirt, and the stick 'heist a little too short, which
..0e him step forard, in he fell! He shuffled out
though tollerable quick. and says ho 'boys, he's a
whaler! cum my eternal buttons if he aint the rise
,tacare, 43aittim ILitzratuxr,lovatitp, art! , *arum, 3girtillturt, Rm . & cut cut,
aCt3 o
'of sixty pounds! Old Biggs may go away now
with . his forty pound cats; he can't shine no way,'
When I heard that, boys, I-
'When you heard it!' exelaiined all. •
'Yes. we,' said Biggs hughingly; 'didn't I tell
you that before? Well, I oughter done it hilt I for
got. D-n it! we'll take.n drink on that any
way,' and so heal. • '
'So 'twos you instid o' the devil he cotched,'
Observed Jim Waters, apparently much relieved
by the disclosure.
Itst so: and the way it was, I seed the rascalsas
they were coming here, and knawed what they were
rater, So when night comes, I slips down the
roover bank, mighty easy and nice, till I could see
the camp fire. But filar was a dog along, and I
was afraid to venture up that way. See, I was
arter stealin their;ah they'd cotched through the
day, which I knowed in reason they'd have a string
on em in the water at the kunnoo landing, to keep
fresh. Well, seein of the (tog I eluded I'd 'tack the
inimy by water instil o' land. So with that
took the mover about 30 yards above here, end sure
enough! finds the string of ti<h jut where I knoWed
they'd be; and then I starts to swim down the
roover a little ways, and git out below, and go to
Jerry White's and tell him the joke. Boys aint
you all getting mighty dry.? I mn.
And Daddy Biggs drank again!
jilt 99 I got to where the blasted
hook was not a thickin of nothin hut the fun, the
cussed thing ketchet in one thigh of my overhauls
and brought me up short. I tried the cussedesf
ever a feller did , to git loose, and couldn't. I had no
knife, and thar flew round, and pulled fret foraide
and then haekards, and raked and , pitched and made
the water bile. Fact boys! was hitched to a swing
ing limb. and en mistake. Once or twice I got on
'the top of the sugarAoaf rock, and Ne-c-eat about the
time I was going to untie the rope of a line, the
blasted-rock was so sltpery off I'd alcnipeb! Fact
boys! And it aggrawated me; it agrawated me
smaqleyi so it did! Bf I'd a had liquor then. I d
a took some, 1 was so d-d mad! Well in ail,
time that long-legged cuss, Jess Cole, waken up tot
tell'd you, and hollers out the way I narrated. Boys
what say you all to another drink! It makes me
so cussed mad every time I think bout it.'
Once more Dade.) , Biggs gazed at the Oars!
'Soon as Jess said.that shout his cat heist bigger'n
mine, I said in toy mind whip you certain! . —
They all kept a most terriblehollerin,and every now
and then some on ens would
.throw a •long log o'
wood as they had cut for the lire, as nigh at me as
they could guess, SO Shia/ t he cal, you see; but the
branches of the tree favored me mightily in keepin
em off; though they'd strike pretty close be me
casionally, es-junk! striking end foremost, you see.
So they kept up t right smart throw in of logs, and
me right pert dodging, for some time; and I tell
you, it look mai nice judgment for me to keep
the infernal hook outen my meat; it graised the skin .
several times as I was. At last Jess he climbs into
the tree and pits on the limb right over me, and ecs
he 'boys, I believe hit's a mud turklc, for I sees
something like the form of one right under me.!—
Tlitnks I, you'll find it one of the snappin sort, I
judge. Then another one see, gime a way to try
that, Jess, of you see him,' and he hands Jess a gig.
.Now,' ses he, 'gig lairs!'
'Gig the Devil! ses I for I was pestered.'
'Great Heavens!' squalled Jess, 'hit's the Devil!'
and down he tumbled right a top of me. I thought
I was busted open' from one end to tether.
enough, though, I warnt, but only bursted loose
from thqine. Both on us put fur the band quick:
but on nceount of my gittin holt of the gig, which
nailer bothered me, Jess got ashore foist. I ring
right arler him though, I tell you, ur:// , /he g.g!
When I cum up the honk I found the rest was sll
cleen gone, and that lay Jeas, , which hail stumped
his toe ngin somethin, right paten his face, a-moan
in dreadful.
tOh, I've got you now,' ses I.
'Please, Devil,' ses he.
'Must take you along with me,' ses I, in the
d—tlest most unycarthly voice you ever heertl.
tTho hogs I took warfil marked,' ses Jess, a
shiverin all over.
•
'They warn't your'n, SeR
I'll never do /21.0 no more,. see Jess, shivern miss
and wuss, 'et* you'll let me off this time. ,
'Can't do it Jess! want you down in Tophet In
strike for Vince Kirkland. I've got Fries t h at ri
blacksmithin of it. He diva all my odd jobs, like
pinlin of' My tail and rich like! Can't let you . off--
I've come apurpose for you!
I seed the poor devil shudder when I called
Vince's name, but he didn't say no more, so I jobs
the gig through the hind part of his overhauls and
starts down to the kunnou landin with him in a pert
trot. The way he scratched up the dirt as he
travelled backards on his all fours, was a perl'ert.
sight. But jilt no I struck the roarer, ho got Mild
'of a grub, and the gig tore out, and lie ala , led
mother way! I never seed runnin till then; taint.
no use to try to tell you • how fast he did run, I
couldn'tdo it in a week. A scared wolf won't
nothin to him. Ho run faster•n six scared wolves
and a yearlin deer. Soon as he got a Blatt I made
for tile lug whar I seed their guns, and behind that
I finds the big powder gourd they all kept their
powder in that the warn't a usin. Thinks I of you
aint all kleen gone, I'll finish the job for you; so I
pitched the gourd—it held fully a gallon—qmiack
into the fire and then jumped into the mover my
self. I hadn't mure•n got properly in before it
Wowed up. Such a blaze I never seed before. The
nice wan some itself, but the blaze covered all crea
tion. and revelled higher than the trees. It spread
out to.the logo whirr the guns was, and fired them
off—pop. pop! pop! Nowunder them Uhatolkospa
fellers never come back. Satan himself couldn't a
done it no defter, of he had been there, in the, way
of racket and wise.
Daddy Biggs now took a long breath and a long•
er drink.
.Boys, he continued, I got them fellers fish and a
two gallon jug o' sperrite, and I throwed their guns
in the• roover, beside , givin them the all-goriest
scare they ever had; and they aint been back sence,
which I hope they never will, for it's oudacious the
way thp rouser folks is posed upon., • Now, -boys,
that's my scrape; so lets take another drink, look
at tlt.e books and then lay down.
For the ,fluntingdon Journal
.Ma Eotroat—l find the following in a paper re
ceived from the city this week. It is taken from a
work lately published in England, compiled from
the records of the Venerable Society for the propa
gation of the Gospel in Foreign parts., and intended
to throw light upon the condition of the Church of
England, in the American Colonies before they be
came independent.
The letter can hardly fail to be of interest to
your readers, as it relates in part to the early histo
ry of our town ;—ninety years ago considered as
among, the remotest parts of the West.'
.Thentingdun, April LO, tS4 i. G.G. F.
In January, 1755, Mr. fhomas Barton, who had
'men for two yews engaged as an assistant tutor in
the Academy of Pennsylvania, earns to England ;
with letters testimonial front the Profissors ,of the
.college and the clergy of the province—and with an
earnest petition from the inhabitants of Hunting--
iron, that he might be appointed their mi.isionary.—
•After the necessary inquiries and examinations hail
been completed. Mr. Barton was ordained, and went
Lock .to America as itinerant missionary for the •
counties of Yoik and Cumberland.
The following extracts front his first letter to the
Society, dated Huntingdon, November Bth, 1756.
will convey some notion of the extent of his mis
sion and the laborious nature.of his duties.
After a short and very agreeable passage, r nr
rived at 'Philadelphia about the lfith of April, 1755,
and immediately wrote to the people of Hunting- I
Hunting
don, who enact generously with their wagons, and .
brought amity my effect.. As soon as I settled my
affairs and visited my friends, I set out for this place
idiom the latter end of May, where I was received I
with a hearty welcome, and wee mitch pleased to
find the poor people tilled with tirstitaile Holler a •
doe sense of the Weighty obligations they were un
der to the honorable :Society for the fitters conferred .!
upon them. ; And what pleased me still attire. was
to hear that they had struggled bard to keep alive
some =ease of religion, among th e i r c hlbl, o , by
meeting every Smithy. and getting one of the
members to read proyers-to them. •
My first loninelis was to visit and ram my
self acquainted with the state and munchers of the
three congregations at York. Huntingdon, and Car
lisle : and having sett led wardens and vestly.meh in
each, they all met, and according to their numbers,
agreed mutually that I sheuld officiate three
Sun
days in six at Huntingdon, two at Carlisle, and
at York. 17pon hearing that within the !links of
my tniasion there Were large .ntimbers of the corn. '
numion of the church of England in the settle
ments of Canogoelffeg, .Shippensburg, Sheerman•e
- Valley, West-Prnn s.liorough and Marsh-Cre . elt,
determined to visit each of these places' four times
a year. to prepare them for the sacrament of the
Lord's Supper and to baptize their children.
•• I had, the phonstire to nee my hearers inerens,
which amounted to such a number in a few
we,!, nt Huntingdon, that I have been sometimes ,
Wiliged to preach to them under the rover of the
treen. And when it woe my turn at Carlisle; lam
told that people came forty, lifty, and some sixty
miles. • •
I now began to consider myself Os the Rev.
Mr. Provost smith express, it in a letter to me)
as one who had advanced to the very frontiers of
the Messiah's kingdo, and among the first who
had unfolded His everlasting banners in the remo
tes; parts of the IA est.
From the adesnhige of my situation, bordering
upon nations of savegee, I entertained strong hop,
that it might please the Lord to make nte a happy
ihstrument to subject some of theme poor ignorant
' creatures to the kingdom of God, and of Jesus
Christ; end hearing that a number of them were
collie down from the Ohio to Carlisle, to dispose of
`their fur and deer skins, I made it my business to
go among them and endeavor as much es possible
to ingratiate myself Into their good opinion. Next
morning, I invited them to church, and such of
them 'll. understood tiny English came, and seemed
I very attentive the Miele time. When I came to
visit there in the afternoon, those that had been at
; church brought ail their brethren to 'hake hands
with me. and pointing often upwards; discoursed
with one another some time in their own language. '
I I imagine they' were telling them what they had
'.heard. end indeed, I observed them to be pleased
with the relation.
o This gave me reason to think that the Tedious
were willing to he instructed, nod were susceptible'
of good imrpessions; and if they found mission.
1 ries divested of enlister and selfish motives. they
could easily be prevailed upon to exchange their
j savage barbarity fin the pure and peaceable religion
of Jesus. Just when I was lig with the hope. of
being able to do Nervier among these tawny people,
we received the inelaneholy news, that our forces.
under the command of General Braddock, were Iles
feared en the 9th of July, as they were marelairig to
take Duqueone. a French tint upon the Ohio. This
Wll4 moon succeeded by an alienation of the Italians
t in our interest. and from that tiny to this poor Penn-
I eylvania haw felt ineessantly thesad efiltets of popish
tyrancy and savage cruelty. A great part office
of her counties has l!ren depopulated and fit id Waste,
j and aortae hundreds of her steadiest sons either
murdered or Carried into barbarous captivity.
! • "At it time of such public ealareity and dietress,
' you may easily conceive what must be my situation,
whose fortune it was to have my residence in a
plate where these otimances were felt most. •
It is but a little time since th,e counties were
erected. They were chiefly settled by poor peo
pie, who not being able to purchase lands in the in
; Wrier part of the country, came back where they
were cheap. Many of them were en low at first,
that two fatuities were generally obliged to join in
fitting out one plough, end before they could mitre a
subsistence, Nt ; vre necessitated to run in debt for
stock and for what maintained them in the interim.
As noon as they became industrious, the fertile soil
gave them an hundred fold, ar.d in a little time
raised them to affluence end plenty: when they
were just beginning to feel the comforts and taste
the fruits of their industry, a batharatut and cruel
enemy came and ruined them.
.t. The county of Cumberland has suffered Ni l,
ularly, and the condition of its rem.iiitint; shattered
inhabitants in truly deplorable! many 'yr them are
reduced torenl poverty and distress,groaning under
a burden of calamities; some having lost their hua
bands, some their wives, some their children, mid
all the laborof many years. In this condition (my
heart bleeds in relating what I urn on eye witness
to) they now wander about without bread of their
own'to eat, or a house to shellerthemselves in from
the inclemency of the approaching winter. They
have left many thousand bushels of wheat and
other grain behind them in their barns and store
houses. which roust become a spoil to the enemy,
While the just owners of it !mist either beg or starve.
Since I sat down to write this letter, I have receiv
ed account,' that a poor family had lied for refuge
into this mini about six months ago. where they
have remained ever Fiore; but finding they mold
not sultsiSt, chose a few days ago to run the rink of
returning, home to enjoy the fruits of their labor,
s where they had not tinge to unlade their cart, before
they were seized by Indians and murdered.
Earn.* is the only remains of that once popu
lous county: they have a garrison of about 100
men, but how lung they will he able to defend them
selves is very uncertain, ns the enemy have threat
ened that place in particular. They still have their
share of my ministrations, and seem extremely
thankful to the honorable SoCiety upon whose boun
ty lam chiefly supported. • • •• • This mis
sion, in a few years, would have vied with the ablest
in this province, as it was inn flourishing state, and
could not contain less than 2000 persons, members
of the Church of England. But so melancholy is
the transit:on, that it cannot afford to build one
church so that I olliciats sometimes in a barn,
sono,imes in a wastchouse, or wherever else con
erflence offers.
"I have baptized since my arrival one hundred
and sixty infants, ten adults. and an Indian aid.
who has been brought up in a Christian family since
tier infancy, after due examination and instruction.
The number of my communicants is fifty-eight.
which I have but little expectation of increasing till
this storm is blown over.
Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures.
➢fit, est!). JOINS A emirs—' THE aKTLAILS."
I'm sure it poor woman had better he in her •
grave than married ! That is, if she can't he nine.
rind to a decent 'rim ! No ; I don't rare Ryon are
tired. I shan't yon gn to steep. No. and I Won't
any whet I have tosnY•in the morning ; I'll say it
new. It's all very well for you to come home at
what time you like—it's now half-past twelve and,
expect to hold my tongue, end let you go to
sleep. What next, I wonder I A woman had bet
ter be sold fore slave at once.
And so t'on'ne gone and joined a club! The
Skylarks, indeed! A pretty skylmk you'!! make
of yourself ! But I won't stay and be ruled by
you. No; I'm determined on that. I'll go and
take the dear children and yen may get who you
likC to keep your house. That is, as long as you
have a house to keep—and that won't be long, I
know.
any decent man can go and spend his
nights in a tavern ! oh, yea, Mr. Caudle ; I dare
say you du for rational conversation. I ahould like
to know how many of you would eye for what you
call rational conversation, if you had it without
yOar filthy brandy-and-water; you, and your more
filthy tobacco smoke. I'm sure the last time you
came home, I had the headache for a week. But
I know who it is who's taking you to destruction.
It's that brute, Prettyroorr. Ho has broken his own
poor wife's heart, and now he wont's to,butdon'tyou
think it, Mr. Candle, I'll not have my pence of
mind destroyed by the best man the" ever trod.—
Oh, yes ! I know you don't core so long as you eon
appear well to all the world—but the world little
thinks how you behave to me. It shall know It
though—that I m determined.
How any man can leave hie own happy fireside
to go and sit, and smoke, and drink, and talk with
people who wouldn't one of them lift a finger to
cove him from hanging—how any man can leave
his wife—and a gond wife too, though I eny it--
for a parcel of pat companions—oh. its disgracef.d,
Mr. Caudle ; its unfeeling, No man who has the
lewd love for his wife could do it.
And I suppose this to be the case every Satur
day I But I know what 111 do. I know—it's no
use, Mr. Caudle, your calling me a good creature: I'm
not such a fool as to be coaxed in that way. No
if Yon want to go to sleep, you should come home
in Christian tinio, not at half past twelve. ' There
was a time when you were na regular at your tire
'Side as a kettle. That was when yon were a de-'
cent man, and didn't go with Heaven knows who,
drinking and smoking, and making what you think
your jokes. I never heard any good come too man
who cared about jokes. No respectable tradesman
But I know what I'll do: I'll scare away
your Skylarks. The house sells liquor after twelve
of a Saturday night; and if I don't write to the
Magistrates, and have the licenso taken away, I'm
not lying in this bed this night. Yes, you may
call mo a foolish woman; but no Mr. Caudle, no;
it's you who are the foolish man or worse than a
foolish man : you're—a wicked one. If you were
to die to-morrow—and the people who go to public
houses do all they can to shorten their
like to know who would write upon your tembsome,
'A tender husband and an affectionate father.' I—l'd
have no such falsehoods told of you, I can assure you.
Going end 'spending your money, and,—non
eense don't tell me--no, if you were to ten times
swear it, i wouldn't itelieve Mit yen only spent
ct)llcz>
cighteempenee or/ a Saturday. You ettn't be all
those hours, and only upend eighteen-pence, I know
better, Fm not quite a fool, Mr. Caudle.—A great
deal you could have for eighteen pence ! And all
the Club married men and fathers of families.—
The more shame for 'em! Skylarks indeed!—
They should coil themselves Vultures; for they
can only do as they always do by robbing their
innocent wives and children. Eeighteeepence a
week! And if it was only that—do you know
what fifty-two eighteen-peaces come to in a year?
Do you ever think ofthat and see the gowns wear !
I'm rare !Can't; out of the house money, bliy toy
'self it pin cushion ; though I've wanted ono
these six months. No, not so much us' a ball of
cotton. But what do you care so you can get your
brandy nod water? There's the girls, too—the
things they want ! They're never dressed like
other people's children. But its all the same to
their father. Oh yrs! So he can go with his
skylarks they may wear suck-cloth for pinafores,
and pack thread for garters.
' You'd better not let Mr. Prettyman donee here,
that's all; or; rather, you'd 'miter bring him once.
Yes, I should like to see him. He woudn't forget
it. A man who, I may say, Ines and moves only ih a
spittoon. A man who has a pipe in his mouth as
constant as his front teeth. A sort of tavern king
with n Int of fools like you, to laugh nt What' he'
thinks his jokes, and give him consequence. No,
Mr. Caudle, no; it's no nee your telling me to go
to sleep, fur I won't. Go to sleep, indeed ! I'm'
sure it's almost time tri get up. I hardly know
what's the use of coining to lied af all' now.
' The Skylarks indeed ! I suppose ydd'll be
buying a 'Little Warbler,' and at your time of life
he trying to sing. The peacocks will sing next.
A pretty nnme you'll get in the neighborhood; and
in a very little tine, a nice faceyoti'll have. Your
nose is getting redder already ; and you've just one
of the noses liquor always flies to. You don't see
its red I No—l dare any not—but I see it; I see
a great malty things you don't. And so you'll go'
on. Ina little time, with your brandy-and -water--
don't tell me that you only take two smell glasses
know what men's two small glasses are; in a lit
tle time you'll have a free all an it was made
of red current jam. And I should like to know
who's to endure yod then I I won't, so don't think
it. Don't come to me.
Nice habits men learn at clubs! There's Joe-'
kinx he was a decent creature once; and now I'm
told he has more than once boxed his wife's ears.—
He's a Skylark, too. And I suppose some day,
you'll be trying to box my ears? Don't attempt
it, Mr. Caudle ; I say don't attempt it. Yes--it
all very well for you to say you don't mean to—
but I only say again, don't attempt it. You'd rue
it tilt the day of your death, Mr. Caudle.
Going and sitting fdr four hours at a tavern !
What men, unless they had their wives with them.
can find to talk about, I can't think. No good. of
course. 0
'Eighteen-pence a week--and drinking brandy
and-water, enough to swim a boat ! And smoking
like the funnel of a stenm-ship ! And I can't af
ford myself so much as a piece of tape! It's brutal,
Mr. Caudle. It's ve-ve-ve—ry
And, soya a note in theMS. by Mr. Caudle—
Here, thank heaven ! yawning, she fell aaleep.?
TRUE SENTIMEiT..-Neare Gazette nays
.• The difference between people who read the
newspapers and people wino do not, is striking. It
may almost he seen in their faces, and it is at least
made evident in two minutes conversation. We
have Indeed been always of opinion, that newspa
pers of the proper character, should be regularly
plared in the hands of children, as soon as they are
able to read. It will soon be to them a pleasure as
well as an advantage, and its beneficial effect in
awakening the mind would be felt throughout life.
We might even if we bad leisure note, prove that
to read journals is an improver of beauty—an ac
tual Cosmetic, giving intelligence to the eye, expan
sion to the brow and viracity to the expression. The
aspect often indicates the soul to be dark and unen
lightened, the imprint will Ire likewise on the visage.
flow often do we see children With bright and in;
tellectual looks become gradually heavy, dull and
contracted in their expression as they advance to
wards maturity. lied why is filial— for want of
the proper mental culture. The best part of their
nature perishes for lack of exercise. They do not
lead the newspapers. People may laugh perhaps;
but if this be a jest there is not a little of truth in it.
E LMLE:. E.—The following was given by some
cotemporary as a specimen of Western eitnquenest:
Americans ! This great country--wide--vest
—and in the south west unlimited. Our republic
to yet destined C. 117111,0 South America—to occupy
the Russian possessions. and again to recover pos
session of those British provinces, which the pow
er of the old thirteen Colonies won from the French
on the plains of Abraham ! all rightfully ours to re
occupy. Ours is a great and growing country.--
Faneuil Hal wad its cradle ! but whar—what will
be found timber enough for its coffin! scoop nll
the water not of the Atlantic Occult. and Its bed
would not inford a grave sufficient for its corpse.--
And yet America tans scarcely grown out of the
gristle of boyhood. Europe! what is Europe?--
She is no what ; nothing; n circumstance, a cipher.
a mere obsolete isles. We have flutter steamboats
swifter locotnotives,la•ger creeks, bigger plnntations,
better mill privileges, brooder lakes, higher moun
tains, deeper contracts, bounder thunder, forked. ,
lightening, braver men. handsomer acumen, and
more money thott England der have (Thundering
apple ore.
c,zl)- The wisdom of speech is to know when, what
where to speak ; tht time, totter, mid manner,