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TRIODORE H. CHEWIER.
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P 0:11 .
To charm the languid Itou6inieblitutle,
He oft invites her to the Muse'. late."
And via shall sleep and heed it not.
Crow feet the fleeting moments fly !
lfow sad the thought that we 'neat die:
To know the earth, with all its store
Of joys, to us will be no niece,
And Nature's strife mutt end in peace;
Our labors fail, our senses cease;
Thoughts rice no more, nor passions move
The quiet breast with hate or love;
All sounds upon the ear will die,
And light no more Moine the eye;
The tongue will pause, the heart will rest—
An'awful stillness seize the breast:
The soul. disiiiised, will steal away
And leave the cold, unconscious cloy,
Melt in !mina lone sepulchral spot
Will be uttered and be forgot
Then, strange to think, when we are gone,
'nat still will rice and set the sun ;
The day will ilaWn us fair—as brialtt ;
The shwa will ilOw as rich at night ;
The world will move :inst es before;
Thu winds will blow—the ocean roar;
The forests marrilur in the breeze,
And verdure crothe soil leave the trees;
The buds will given, and blossoms blow,
And changing seasons come sod
Though all to on will he forgot,
And wo shall sleep, and heed it not.
And other tenni will walk the earth,
With other scenes of joy end mirth;
And other frier ships will he l'onn d.
And other hearts with love he worm
And smiles will
, please, and tears will flow;
And sighs will heave th e b reas t s o f snow;
Anti poets sing, end lover. sigh,
And more be burn, and all to die:
Though this to us will be but miught—
We all shall sleep Mid heed it not!
'Though the green Mound upon our breast
Or seulptur'd atone, 'Mould mark our rest,
Yet noon thut alone will fall away,
Anti earth be level! d where we lily:
The clod by ploughabates will be !ell.
And strangers' feet will tread the spot,
And pass our rest, and know it not.
Or o'er our duet many cities rim,
And point their turrets to the skim.
Ambition, wealth, and power and pride,
May spurn the earth in which we hide—
'Or saints may kneel, or buffoons play
Where, List, our names and ashen lay
Yet all to us will be forgot,
Still we shall sleep and heed it not,
lint, stranger still, (should we pursue
A future thought, that may be true,)
Not only men, like leaves, may fall,
lint the whole nation sink, and all
lie lost—extinct this race of man,
Like Pulenque, or like Copan;
And over all this broad domain •
A wilderness may rise again :
Prom tea to are, from coast to coast,
Out arts, our name, our nation lost;
While o'er our ruin Nature rears
Iler forests of a thousand years,
Where savage man may find a home,
And kindred beasts may howl and want,
Yet all to U 4 will be forgot,
Calmly we'll sleep. and heed it not.
• From Nears Gazelle.
Tho merry , merry month of May—
It cornea with sun and showers,
With birds to welcome in the day,
And dew to kiss the flowers !
The forest trees are gay and green,
The doves begin to col!,
And by the moonlight's silvery sheen
We hear the fountain fall.
The gardens shed their perfumes round
As from Ileeperian bowers,
And lightly trip, with noiseless sound
The joyous sister hours.
And childhood's laugh, liko summer rain.
Is heard in woodland glade--
.IVe seem to be a girl again
And frolic in the shade:
bh *Ma that life was ever May,
With love and hope and flowers,
Then might we linger always gay,
In this bright World of ours!
But winter conies, and love departs,
And night sets in around—
Perennial spring, for weary hearts
In heaven alone are found.
Like a fragrant Havanni
Long kept from the light,
Ere its loveliness fodeth
In ashes and night;
Like a saint in his cloister—
A monk in his cell :
Like a York River oyster
shut up in his shell ;
Like a toad in a grindstone—
A calm in the sea—
My heart is bound up,
Dearest Mary, in thee.
,(2:7- Benevolent intention and beneficial tendency
tfiust cornbice to constitute the moral gooducie of
14:::1=alla7 3 CATO.
THE BACHELOR'S BRIDE,
When I said that I would die R bachelor. I did
not think that I should live till I were married."
4 Whet treason to the country to write London
and August on the same sheet of paper; said Mrs.
ClitTord to her eon, as she commenced a letter.
I hive had some such thoughts rape% and re
ally innst accept one or other of the invitations I
have for shooting.'
'Shall you go to Sir Thomas Crofton's?' inquir-
V 1 the lady.
No; for Lady Crofton will expect that if I kill
her husband's partridges in the morning, I shall in
fallibly make love to his daughters in the evening;
her imagination is eo fertile. she never sees a man
but she enumerates his acres, speculates on mar
riage settlements, and has visions of white satin,
and all the pretty et ceteras of matrimony.'
Lord 'Bradford's? there are no daughters there."
' True, but his wife is a deep, deep blue—bores
you to death With her literary attainments, or non
attainments. I think I shall tun down to Deere's
—I have not been to Woodland's since I stood god
father to tny little namesake Frank nearly live years
ago. I shall feel at home there; no fussy parties,
prim and starched as an old bachelor.'
Mrs. Clifford smiled.
. Well, if I ant a bachClor, and mean so to con
tinue, I am, at least, nut a starched one,' continued
her son, interpreting the smile.
. Why should you be at all, Frank T—you, who
have so many of the requisites to Make a woman
. Why, my dear mother, women are so artificial
—live for display—sigh for an estol•lishment—and
not to be too hard on tho fairest frid sweetest part
of the creation, I ask so much in a wife-=-I require
so many of the nameless sebethings and nothings
indispensable to female fascination—am!, not to
speak it irreverently, when I think of the caprice,
the vani.y, the jealousy, that are the usual charac
teristics of the sex, I can but be thankful, I ant a
doomed bachelor. No,' continued he, as if puny
ing a train of thought. 'I have drawn an image on
ray mind L fair, so pure, that I feel nothing leas
than the realization of the idea will satisfy me ; at
the same time, I know that it is one that for rnecan
have no existence—it was the dream of my boy
hood and it is past.'
Frank Clifford was handsome, candid, 'generous,
the soul of honor, with an income of three thousand
a year—thirty-six and a bachelor, and such he had
mentally and verbally resolved to coiginuil and
yet, in spite of all this, he had still his visions and
fantasies—starry skies, flowery valleys—the still
quiet woods, enjoyed with some dear sympathising
friend, haunted his day dreams and night visions.
It was a bright day when we travelled to Wood
lands; the meadows were enamelled with a thou
sand gay blossoms; the busy hum of myriads of
insects filled the sir with their soft drowsy music,
and Clifford felt how soothing arc such sights and
sounds to man's unquiet spirit. And then how
cordial was the welcome that awaited him—how
happy was Deere as he romped with his children on
the lawn—and how proud of the gentle being who
shared his joy at the long-promised visit of his
You have greatly improved this place, Deere—
it is impossible to conceive a fairer scene. How
gracefully blended are those flowers with that green
bowery looking wilderness in the back-ground; it
is like a fairy land.'
Yes,' said Mrs. Deere, and created by the
magical wand or affection, aided by the fairy Good-
Mary mate ell there pretty
flowers grow,' said
the lovely girl insinuating her little hand into her
Mother's--. Mary does every thing that is nice.'
'Your portfolio boasts some exquisite paintings,'
said Clifford, as he turned over the leaves; .1 did
not know you were so fine an artist.'
'They are indeed beautirul; replied Mrs. Deere,
'but I may not claim the merit—that belongs to
At this moment dinner was announced, and he
could only wonder who Mary was. Its his bedroom
some bold spirited drawings attracted his attention,
and his eye quickly detected the name of Mary in
the corner; all in the room bespoke female taste
and Consideration, and Daces had said all had been
arranged by Mary. Some of Deere's occupations
were too commonplace for the somewhat fastidious
Clifford, and he delighted in solitary rambles; in
one of these he passed a neat cottage; the gay
flowers in the little garden before it arrested his
steps, and he paused to admire the deep crimson
stocks, and the beautiful double wall flower often
seen in such perfection in the cottage garden of
-. An aged woman invited him to rest in her
Take this seat, sir,' said she, pointing to one
whose very look bespoke comfort and ease; I suffer
a great deal from r lieumatis, and /bliss Mary from
the Great House sent me this chair.'
Clifford aested himself in it.
Oh ! /she's a nice lady, so free and kind; she I
brought me these worsted stockings herself,' con
tinued the garrulous dame, putting out u foot not
exactly a propotype of Taglioni's.
Clifford bad a Byronic passion for the name of
Mary, and it had come upon his oar so often in his
brief sojourn at Woodlands, that he began to feel
mom, au. -141€).
quite n sensation when it was named, and no small
curiosity to see her who had a right to the title.
But it wan the firstof September, and guns, dogs,
and birds, were formidable rivals to the unknown
Mary. The sky was clear—the air Wand—the
birds,' those fairy-formed and many-colored things,'
sung gaily—and the stream looked pure and bright,
as it broke into dimples and laughed in the sun.'
Clifford and Deere were put early, and with a quick
eye and sure ails, returned laden with the spoil.—
Deere lingered behind to give some directions, and
as Clifford crossed the lawn, he heard the gay laugh
of children, and the tones of the most musical voice
mingling with theirs. He paused to listen—the
sounds earns nearer, and in a niomenthe was in the
midst of the group. Oh ! Mary is come home—
dear, sweet Mary--and wear,' so happy burst from
the lips of the delighted young ones.
Clifford was slightly einharrassed, but seeing
Deere, he said, Will you come and introduce me
to this lady, who I presume boasts some other mune
than my favorite ono of Mary V
.0 yes, her name it; Deere; the orphan child of
my poor brother Frederick,' he added in a tower
tone; and this, Mary, is my old friend Clifford, of
whom you have heard honorable mention. But
tell one how are the Powella and Grace, and how
came yrte home so earlyl'
To answer your last question first, Grace drove
me in the pony-chaise to park gate and we had ouch
a delightful ride, every thing looked so fresh, it
seemed to have the charm of novelty. I had been
as happy as a bird; but I began to long for my gear
duke, dumum, and a romp with my darling pets,t,
saig Mary, UP she stooped to kiss the children.
When Clifford descended to the breakfast room,
Mary was seated ut the table,and es he entered she
was talking in a cheerful tone to Mrs. Deere, whose
simple matronly cap and fair gentle face, contrasted
sweetly with the profusion of dark brown curls
which hung in beautiful luxuriance over the more
animated countenance of her companion.
Our truant has returned at last,' said his host
'esti, and she tells me you have met.'
The brow of Mary Dame was a sweet clear page,
where you might read all that passed in her kind
and noble heart. Her beauty did not fascinate for
a moment, true it attracted by its grace and intelli
gence; it woe a face to.gezo on and return to, to flit
across the tninds' eye,' haunt you at all hours, un
bidden and 'unexpected; in fact she was a danger
nue invader of the fights of baelielorship, and Clif
ford, scarcer) , resisting the fair essailant, found the
strong bolds of celibacy one by one giving away,
and each stern sentinel that hitherto guided the
avenues of his hula, deserted his post.
What folly thought he, as he stood gazing on
the light form of Mary, 83 she tripped lilac d wood
nymph over the lawn, to fancy. young and fair
a creature would ever mingle her fate with mine,
nothing but love, the purest and profoundest could
ever tempt me to marry ; and then I must h ave
equal devotion—ore who should share my aspir
ins after better things than earth can oiler, and
sympathize in all tnY hopes. It is folly, rapli folly
and egregio . us vanity, to itnagine she could c:er love
But Mary was cot insensible to the polished man•
.winning grace of her uncle's friend, nor
did the delicate attention he paid, or the friendly
interest he evinced for her, pass unappreciated.—
Agreeable first impressions facilitate intercourse
amazingly, and is one astonished what progress love
makes in a country !rouse, where communion is
unfettered and free.
'And so we are going to have a dinner•party to
day,' said Clifford to Mary, as shu was gathering
flowers for the vases; ' hew I wish it was over—
I hate such affairs.'
see you are epoiled," said Mary, laughing;
'you have been petted by my aunt, prabed by my,
uncle, till you really are beyond bearing.'
• Who are corning ?'
• A great tinny agreeable people.'
Country suires mostly are--they will talk of
the corn laws and tithes, and the pedigree of their
horses, and other interestirg 'sayings and doings.'
Will you tell me any of their names
Sir Edward and Lady Talbot; he, grave and
sedate; she, all sparkle and sauvity. .Mr. and the
four Misr, Arnolds ; he a clever, shrewd man of the
world; his daughters worthy of such a sire. Pretty,
accomplished, and sing and play enchantingly, ;
Lord Limns, fond of the ' feed, .though not of
'reason,' he is a bachelor,' continued Mary, archly,
therefore I must be merciful to him. Then Mr.
and Mrs. Powell, my Powell's two sons, and dear
graceful Grace—beauty, wit, and goodness enough
in her own dear self, to make the dullest dinner
'Does your enthusiasm extend to the whole fem•
ily asked CliffOrd t assuming an indifference lie did
yes ; indeed, I wear theni ell in my heart of
Clifford was satisfied.
'You cannot imagine how much ore may be ex
tracted from such folks us these seem to hold in
contempt,' continued Mary, by the exercise of a
very little moral alchemy ; will you try 1'
I will do anything for you.'
Well, be thankful then for thie pettite historetic
—you ought, for I had scarcely left ton minutes for
the grace.' And away she ran, laden with flowers
looking, as Clifford thought, the very perbonification
'Your niece is very lovely: said Clifford, a day
or two after the abovo conversation, breaking a long
,eilence, and thus indicating the current of his
Yes,' replied Deere, pretty and portionless;
my poor brother was ever heedless oT the future,
and he left her little beside his blessing; but I can
not talk of that even to you, Frank:
Clifford spoke of his protracted visit. • 1 Mien
been here sin weeks! surely never did Lino pass so
You must not, my dear fellow, think of going
yet. we have all been so happy in your society.'
Clifford wondered if Mary was included in that
imperial pronoun We. Another and another week
flew 00, and still he lingered ; he was less cheerful
and when alone on his wanderings, which became
more frequent, he felt life flat, void, fruitless but ever
in his musings he imagined a bright, fair vision.
which he believed was the only charm required to
lake it very different—be became decided that love
vatanot all a delusion—an airy nothing--sparkling
put to make the gloom more apparent at its vanish
ing. Mary !he softly breathed, and, as if she had
beard the scarcely uttered sound, a turn of the path
brought her to his side.
How fresh all things look,' she exclaimed ; how
pleased and glad nature appears ! listen to the ma
tin song of the birds, ie it not sweet music, is it not
all delightful 1
.1t is lovely, but it iitsomething brighter than all
that makes it appear bright to um!'
Need we go on, or say how beyond all count of
tune' that marningwalk was extended, or how Mrs.
Dacro foreboro a reproof when they entered long
after luncheon, or how Mr. Daere entiled vhco
" How noiseless falls the foot of time
That only treads on flowers,"
and smiled still store when he asked for ten
utes chat in the library. Mary in the interim, with
eyes overflowing with tears, whose source did not
spring from woe, was quite confidential with Mrs,
Dacre; and it would have been difficult to have
found a Mora happy party Than that ii , hich met at
the dinner-hour that day.
But . spring has come, with all its green limds. and
every blade of grass is full of fragrance, and the
air is 4 tanking sweet music, while the young leaves
dance ; and Mary, with a tearful eye and smile like
a sunbeam has just received the nuptial blessing.
In the primitive looking church where her vows
were registered, there were no inspiring painting—
gOthic aisles, sparkling shrines, or delicate car
ving.: but in after life how dear was the Memory of
that humble sanctuary where Mary Deere had be
come a Bachelor's Bride.
Mrs. Caudlo's Curtain Lectures.
MU. CAUDLE HAS LENT AN ACRI,INTAMCE TUE
'Ah ! that's the third umbrella gone since Christ
mas. What were you to do I Why let him go
home in the rain, to 110 sure. I'm very certain there
was nothing about Min that could spoil. Take
cold, indeed ! He doesn't look like one of thesort
to take cold, Desides, he'd better taken cold than
take our oplA umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr,
Caudle I I arty, do yen bear the rein I and as 1 am
alive, if it isn't Baiilt Swithin's day ! Do you bear
it against the windows?—Nonsense, you don't im
pose upon me, , You can't be asleep with such a
shower as that ! Do you hear it, I say ! Oh, you
do heart it ! Well that's a pretty flood, I think, to
last fur six weeks; and no stirring all the time out
of the house, Pooh ! don't think me a fool, Mr.
Candle. Don't insult me. He return the umbrella!
s if any body ever did return an umbrella.—
There, do you heat. it I Worse and worse I
Cats and dogs, and for six weeks—always six weeks
--and no umbrella!
I should like to know how the children are logo
to school to-morrow. They shan't go through such
weather, I'm determined. loo: they shall stop at
home and never learn anything—the blessed crea
tures!—sooner than go and get wet. And when
they grow up, I wonder who they'll have to thank
for knowing nothing—who, indeed, butthelrfather l
People who can't feel fur their own children ought
never to ho fatheta.
But I know why you lent the umbrella. Oh
yes; I know very well. I was going to tea at dear
mother's to-morrow—you knew that ; and you did
it on purpose. Don't tell me; you hate me to go
there and take every mean advantage to hinder nur
But don't you think it, fir. Caudle. No, air ; if it
come. doWn in buckets-full, I'll go ell the more--
No: and I won't have a cab! 'Where do you
think the money's to come from You've got nice
high notions at that club of yours! A cab, indeed!
Coat me sixteenpence at least—sixteetmence
two-and-eight-pence for there's back again ! Cabs .
indeed ! I should like to know Who's to pay for
'em ; and I'm sure yoU cant, if you go on as you
do throwing away your property, and beggaring
your children--buying umbrellas !
Do yriu hear the rein Mr. Caddie ? I say do
you hear It 1 but I don't care—l'll go to Mother's
to-morrow ; I will; and what's more, I'll walk ev
ery step of the way—and you know that will give
me my death. Don't call me a foolish woman—
it's you that's the focdish man. You know I can't
wear clogs; and with no umbrella, the wet's aura
to give me a cold—it always does. But what do
you care for that / Nothing at all. I may be laid
up for all you care, as I dare say I shall—and a
pretty doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will!
It will teach you to lend your umbrellas again.—
I shouldn't wonder if I caught my death ; yes ; and
, that's what you lent the embroil& for. 01 course !
Nice clothes, I shall get, ton, trapesing thr.tugh
weather like this. My gown and bonnet will he
spoilt quite. Need'nt I wear 'ern tnen I Indeed
Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'eta : No sir, I'm not
going out a dowdy to please you or any body else.
Gracious knows !it isn't often that I step over the
threshold; indeed, I might as well lie a slave at
once—better, I should say. 13ot vi heft I go out,
Mr. Cat:tile, I choose to go out as a lady. Oh !
that rain--if it isn t enough to break in the win
Ugh l I do look forciMrd with dread for to-mor
row I Now I ant to go to pother's I m sure I elm t
tell. But if I die 11l do ft. No, air ; I won't bor
row an umbrella. No; and you shan't buy one.—
(With great emphasis.) Mr. Caudle, if you bring
home another umbrella, I'll throw it in the street.--
I'll any own umbrella or none at all.
Ha! and it was only last week I had a now nez
alo put to that umbrella: Ito sure if I'd hove
known as much as I do now, it might have gone
withiAlt ono for me. ing for new moziles, for
other people to laugh at you. Oa, it's all very
well for you- - you can go to sleep. You've no
thought of your poor patiant wit . .., and your dear
children. You think of nothing but lending um
'Men, indeed !
!—Calls themselves lords of the
creation !—pretty lords, when they can't even take
care of an umbrella!
1 know that walk toonorrow will be the death of
me. But that's what you went—then you may go
to your club, and do as you like—and then, nicely
my poor dear:children will be used- - but then, air
then you'll be happy. Oh ! don't tell me! I
know you will. Else you'd never lent that urn
, • You have to go on Thursday about that sum
mons; and, of course, you rin't go. No, indeed,
you don't go Without the umbrella. You may lose
the debt fur what I care--it won't be so much as
spoiling your clothes--Lotter lure it ; people de
serve to lose debts, who lend umbrellas!
And I should like to ktiow how I'm to go to
mother's without the umbrella? Oh, don't tell me
that Inaid I motridge—that'e nothing to do with
it ; twilling at all. She'll think I'm neglecting her
and the little Money we wore to hove, we ghat
have at all—because we've no umbrella.
.The children, too? Dear things! They'll be
copping wet : fer they shan't stop at home--they
shan't lose their learning; all their father will
leave 'em, I'm sore. But they shall go, to whoa,
Don't tell me I said they shouldn't ; you are so att , .
gravating, Caudle; you'd spoil the temper of an
anicl. They shall go to school ; mark that. And
it' they get their death of cold, it's not my fault—
/didn't lend the
;Here' says Caudle in his MS, , I fell asleep;
and dreamt that the aky was turned into green cal
ico, with whalebone rib.; that, in fret, the whole
world revolved under a tremendous umbrella.'
, Obeying orders.-,A good story is told of an
American general in the last war, who was more
ready in the use of his sword than he was of his
pen, and who, still lives the pride of the army and
country.. WhOe sattioned on lake frontier,, two of
his soldiers, brothers, of the name of Kennedy, had
deserted. He issued an order to a subaltern to de
tail a file of men,and with them proceed to a place
named on the line. and take the two Canadas.'—
The order was peremptory. Oral not to be trilled with
The officer said , he would try, and set about execu
ting it ; but remarked that he thought he could not
take more than one province without a reinforce
. Av Nov/lona Anves.riatmeNT.—A Ct..tea TX
NaTunaLHlsTont.—Sehooinfaster. 'Jame*, what
is a Salamander /'
t An AmphibioaB animal what eats fire.
Schoolnsuater.—‘ Pshaw! Robert, what's a
amender ? &scribe it, and the slate where it is
• I know ! It's a big iron box, with doors to il,
as laid in the fire at the Tribune office for thirty - silt
hours, without getting hot enough to scorch a bank
bill; and it's fount% Mi. Herring's, 138 Water
street N. Yorli. I see it there myself, and more of
Schoolmaster—. You're a smart boy, Robert, go
to the head.'
Noggins met the schoolmaster one morning.
I say,' said he, do you know you are the only
person in town for whoM the minister prays on
Sunday!' . .
No,' answered the pedagogue how is that?'
Why he prays for the heads of all colleges and
Inferior institutions of learning—and if you don't
keep an inferior one I don't knotv echo doe...
PUTTING IT or TIIICK.--A hOilde painter of our
acquaintance has a son, d mere lad, who occasionally
ambits hith in his jobs. He used the brush dexter
Misty, but unfortunately he had acquired the habit
of •putting it on a little too thick.' The other day
hie father, after having frequently scolded him for
his lavish daubing, and all to no purpose, gave him
a severe flagellation. 'There you young rascal,'
said he. after performing the painful duty, • how do
you like that • Well, I don't know dad,' whined
the boy in reply, ' but it seems to me you put It on
a darn d sight thicker than I did.'
Jner So--A mon caws to a printing office to
beg a paper, because,' said he, we like to read
the newspaper. very much, but our neighbors don't
WZlena ID cti, z3..1 0 db.
SounnOta.--All accidental sorrows may lie dwelt
upon with calmness, or recollmted with gratitude it,
Hint who sent them; the somma that sprang froni
ourselves preserve their unmitigated !internees.
css.--Happiness! diet glorious crown
which all the jewels of the world cannot enrich ;
which, studded with the diamonds of the lieart, ran
receive no additional Inane from such paltry thing;
as power, or wealth, or station.
1)N/.NR.--Nor is dress, in general, altogether tin
worthy of attention. eloinehisly has called it tite
habitual expression of it man's mind; and though f
cannot agree to that dr tii . iitiort in the fall pence, vvt
certainly, where there is no impediMent to his fol;
lowing his owts wishes, a men's dress &Tonle strum;
indications of Nish., and habits of thought.
Tat: II Al, AN II THE ltioni.o.—,oll, how hard
it is, when the mind like a young bird lies pained
forth at liberty into the face of heat:Ml, and tried its
wing et large among all the joyousthinge of nature;
to becalled hack 'tithe close page of the dull world's
doings, the incennesees, which form the burr that
prison in the heart.--G. I. P. Amu.
now •rile Niro matt LADIIi9 coven Brargrre.
Money becomes scarcer every year.',
said one of the nlrchantat the imporrations of
Britirra inanufrictures have increeed frightfully.—
Wlriic you undersell the native Damascus nranufne;
turer, you won't take our produce in exchange, and
thin cuta like a two•edgevl sword, for it drains the
errantry of gold.' ~ Make your silk short reel in
stead of long reel,' said I,' and we will take more
than your mulberries can produce. Then, you can
not expect us to :Ilia the hail cotton of Syria when
we can get the good cotton of Egypt unit Americo
, The balrace of trade could , easily be redressed by
Tindraek,' said art old Bagdad merchnirt, rrmiling
• every lady in Syria wears some article of British
manufacture. Now, if ever) lady in 'England were
to return the compliment by r.moking a little Tian:
back, we could pay for our womcn'a 'dresses with
produce, and the exchange on England would fall
to its natural level!'—The Dloderu .SyrranB.
A Wcionimu-31.irmisz AT A FA1T1.7.1 FAW
gaunt man, with a weighing-chair suppeirded froni
a tripod, inviting the bystanders to be weighed for a
penny. As 1 stood seanninghisapparams an cwt..-
' timusly fat fellow, with a jolly twinkle in his eye;
riffined to bet him sixpence he weighed t he
As he was manifestly four Miles my 51Z i e, the pro
posal was prepoeteretis enough to be pleasant, so
said ' Dune!' and I sat down.. 'Ten stone
said the gaunt :soli. :%1y ri.oi seated himself.--
'Stop,' said 1, it's rot fair; ypti are amoking.your
pipe, and that weighs Oh, ah ! I
forgot,' said he; and immediately, to meet the
jection, he took the pipe out of his mouth, and (with
perfect good faith) held it in his hand during the
process. A new way of abolishing tho weight of n
pipe which mightily ' tickled iity fancy.—ilood's
;Vag:, i i,. c.
Fatliar and soli, in a church in the High : .
bind's became severed by the free church rupture.
They both preached in one up to that time; hut , tira
son seceded. The congregation seceded to—
leavingo- the old gentlenan alone in his glory.' So
the church being empty, the father thought the pub;
pit. might be empty also. But the presbytery or
dered him to resume hie ministrations; and if he
hod not a congregation, he woe to Sad one. Well,
the next Sunday founl the Triieruhle pastor
. in the
pulpit, and his wife in her pew. Not another soul
was present. The old man, looking on his better
halt, discoursed as follows : my dear, I
need not lecture you ;i ran do that at home: So
we'll just go over the and hear our eon Torn.'
Prinler'a Language.—Every profession has its
technical terms, and, of course, the printers have a
small smattering,' which is intelligible to the
.craft."l'he following (nays the Delaware Repub.
lican) ins specimen; it don't mean, however, as
much as it would seem to the uninitiated.
• Jim put General Washington on the galley; and
then finish the murder of that young girl you com
menced yesterday. Set up the nuns of Hercule
num ; distribute the small pox: you need not fi4tish
that runaway match ; hive the high water in tke
paper this week. Let the pie alone till after dinner.
but put the barbecue to press, and then go to the
Vevil, and ho will tell you about the wank for the
Not much wonder that Doctor Fiustua wasbUrit ,
ed for inventing such a diabolical art.
iry In 1699, the conetaLles in the colony of
Plymouth, were ordered to loOk after all person.
who Wept in church, and report their names to the
General Court. , If such a law were in force in
these days, constables would have their hands full
of business, and be precluded from many a tom.
!unable nap MeMselves.
An Inducement. —The Wien:omit:l Reimblicari
says, the candidate for Justice at Green Bay, offers
to marry all bachelors who will rota for him at
half price, and . etlitora free!
C,} To do as much good, lig u little evil is wo
can, is the brief and intelligible principle that coup
pretends all subordinate maxims.
cy• The ascent from the bottom of the hill may
be fatipeing; but, when the summit is attained,
what a beautiful prospect!
cy They that roams most io pkovpority ars
soonest subject to de4mir iA silt gnity•