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BY JAS. CLARK.
The Flight of Time.
Why Oyes the time so fast?
Days, months, and years glide hy,
And each looks shorter titan the last,
And swifter scents to fly;
On viewless wing still rushing on,
To join the flight of ages gone,
Their silent course they ply.
It seemed, when we Were young,
Time lingered on the way,
Fair hope, like any syren sung
The live-long summer day—
Oh! sweetly. sung of promised bliss,
Too bright for such a world as this—
Too beautiful to stay.
And then the Winter night,
So lively and so long,
When round the fireside, blazing-bright,
Went merriment and song;
Long were the hours—fur wo were then
Impatient to be happy men,
And join the busy throng.
Hope's radiance in the heart,
In youth supremely blest,
Can transitory joys impart,
The brightest and the best.
The ills of life come all too soon;
And why should clouds obscure the moon
That warms the youthful breart 7
When life's young dream is o'er,
And fancy's tire decay,
And hope's illusions charm no more,
Nor chide the lingering day ;
Then Time sweeps on with winged speed,
Or, like a thief, with noiseless tread
Steals all our years away.
Fled like a stream's the past,
The joyous banquet o'er,
Our longing looks we backwards cast,
And think on days of yore.
Brood o'er each scene in joy or woe,
Till we grow old—before wo know
That we are young no more.
A Bachelor's Bridal.
An original parody on" The Burial of Sir John
Moore."
Not a laugh was heard or a joyous note,
As our friend to the bridal hurled,
Not a wit discharged his threwell shot
At the bachelor just to be married.
Wo married hint quickly, to save his fright,
Our heads from the sad sight turning,
And wo sighed as we stood by the lamp's dim light,
To think ho was no more discerning.
To think that a bachelor, free and bright,
And shy of the girls as we found him,
Should here by the altar, at the dead of the night,
Be caught in the snare that bound him.
Few and short were the words wo said,
Though we heartily ate of the cakes,
Then escorted him home from that scene of dread,
And thought how awf'ly ho shakes.
We thought as we hollowed his lowly bed,
Of the beech, the birch, the willow,
Row the shovel and broomstick would break o'er
his head,
And the tears he would shed on his pillow.
Says he, "they will talk of their friend who has gone,
And every old " Bach" will upbraid me,
And nothing I'll reek if they'll let me sleep on,
'Neat!' the coverlet just as they've laid me."
But half of our heavy task was done,
Ere the clock tolled the hour for the other,
And we left, with the hope that the fate he had won,
Would nc►er be won by another.
Slowly and sadly we march down
From the stop of the uppermost story,
And we never have heard from or seen the poor man,
Who we left not At.oNE in his glory.
My Uncle BilVa First Love.
My uncle Bill and my aunt Airy re,ide on
Long Island, not fhr front the fur-fumed resort
Rockaway. One et•ening lust week, us aunt Airy
seas boiling some chesnuts for us " Yorkers" to
oat, and as uncle Bill sat smoking a good Havana
we had brought down with ns; we persuaded Ides
to tell us a story. Uncle Bill tells a good one
when he chooses, and being a man that loves to
please, he dipped deeply, very quickly, into the
merits of the one he proposed telling us some
what thus:
" When I was a slip of a chap, I bad occasion
to taavel some distance in a stage coach, us
steamboats and rail cars were not too plenty in
those ere days. Now I have hcerd tell often of
fellers fallin in love at first sight, but I never
much believed it till that stage ride made me kind
er think so. I had the luck of sitting alongside
of one of the prettiest women I have ever seen,
(uncle Bill looked slyly at aunt Airy.) I soon
fell in love up to the brim, chock, with the gal.—
As it was growing dark, the stage was passing
through a thick wood, then I thought my time had
come, surely. As I felt my strength going quick
ly, I kinder gently lifted my arm, and drew round
the fair one's waist; she moved not, but only made
a slight noise, which I supposed was a love sigh;
says I, ' dear one, sweet one, I love yer, will
yer love me l' The girl said nothing, but made
the noise, I supposed was a love sigh, again. I
then pressed her to me, and her head fell on my
shoulder, and I began to tremble all over; but
still I kept my tongue agoin, and says I, ' dear
little one, won't yer love me, can't yer los e, will
yer m-m-marry me?' The stage just then drove
out of the wood, and the moon shone on her face,
and I looked on it—and—and—" and what?"—
we all exclaimed, "and," says uncle Bill, "she
Was sfeepin, snorin in my arms." When our roars
of laughter had subsided somewhat, uncle Bill
said, "there she sin bilin chestnut,"
[From Graham's Magazine.]
Dydimus Dumps.
RY RIOTIARD PENN SMITH.
" On Horror's head ho•rors accumulate."
Sous; are enamored of the graceful movements
of a horse, others of a painting dancing gipsy;
some pass their lives in examining the petal of a
flower or the brilliancy of a bug—some disregard
the earth and read the heavens, while others find
nothing half so beautiful in all creation as a well
cooked terrapin or partridge pie. Dydimus
Dumps belonged to neither of these varieties—he
eschewed the beautiful; his taste was for the hor
rible.
The parentage, education, and pursuits of Dydi
mus tended to develop this prominent feature iu
his character. His father was a little consumptive
tailor, who was obliged to ply his needle incess
antly for cabbage, and ns tailors are proverbially
melancholic, his hard fate, acting on his tempera
ment, according to the settled laws of Gall and
Spurabeim, rendered bins as solemn and myster
ious as a tomb-stone without an epitaph. Subse
quently lie turned to exhorting in the conventicle,
which inereated the longitude and acerbity of his
meagre visage, and also the sonorous bass of his
deep-toned nasal organ. Spirit of Slawkenber
gee 1 with such a second, you might have deceiv
ed the dry hones of the valley with the belief that
the dispason of universal nature had been rudely
set in motion, and that it was time to conic forth
and attune their pipes to concert pitch.
His favorite text was the transgression, of moth
er Eve, against whom he declaimed unmercifully,
not so much on account of her having brought sin
and death into the world, that but for her curiosity
he never would have been condemned to the un
appreciated and indispensible vocation of finishing
man's god-like form in such a fashion us to appear
in decent society. Pure nature shrinks abashed
when castigated by conventional rules. A babe
denuded of its swaddling dollies may not cut its
caprioles on a Brussels' carpet, without awaken
ing spasmodic delicacy in the painted face of theti
tious modesty, that never blushed in the dark.
The mother of our hero was a layer out of the
dead, and from her calling she imagined herself a
sort of connecting link between this world and the
next, a hyphen between time anal eteinity. Hydi
mils in early childhood attended her on these sol
emn missions, and he claimed it as at prescriptive
right to officiate as chief-mounter in all fashiona
ble funeral processions. It was flattering to his
juvenile ambition, and that his grief might be ren
dered the more impressive, his considerate moth.
cr invariably harnessed him in the longest wee&
and weepers and the best black silk gloves that
the bereaved relatives had furnished to make a
public demonstration of their secret sorrow. Such
was the serious east of his mind in his early yeses,
that he despised the restraint of the ordinary sys
tem of education, and actually made considerable
progress in the alphabet by conning over the epi
taphs on the tomb-stones, and ultimately acquir
ed as much 'knowledge of the dead languages as
most collegians with the appendix of A. M., L.
L. I). and A. S. S. to their otherwise insignifi
cant names.
Many years ago I knew Dydimus intimately.—
He was at that time a middle aged and independ
ent man, having come into possession of the
wholesome accretions of his prudent and watchful
mother. He was fond of relating narratives of
barbarity, whether fact or fiction, it was immater
ial, for be believed all be saw in print, and as I
was a patient listener—the most gratifying com
pliment that can be paid to all old women of either
sex—it afforded him infinite pleasure to bestow
all his tediousness upon me. Ills library was
limited—" better have a few volumes, said he,
and digest them well, than, as some pretenders to •
literature, make a large collection without read
ing beyond the labels "—his library consisted of
" The Life and Death of Cock-Robin, with col-,
orcd sculptures—his mother's first present—
which time bad already rendered exceedingly val
uable, for there was no other copy of the same
edition extant; Vox's Book of Martyrs, horribly
illustrated; the Buccaneers of America, and a
History of the Spanish Inquisition. His walls
were adorned with pictures in keeping—ono of
which he highly prized for its antiquity and truth
of design. It was the sacrifice of Isaac, taken
front a Dutch bible, published in an age when they
weather-boarded books, and lint iron clasps upon
them, anticipating Locke on the Human Under
standing—which illustration of that most solemn
and impressive narrative, represented the agoniz
ed yet obedient parent, with a huge blunderbuss
presented at the breast of his innocent and unre
sisting offspring, while an angel, proportioned and
appareled like a well-fed Amsterdam belle, seated
aloft on a cloud resembling a feather-bed, drop
ped tears as big as hailstones in the pan of the
fire-lock, while Abrahath was in the act of pulling
the trigger.
Poets and painters in all ages excite a shudder
or a smile by their feeble attempts to bring within
our perceptive faculties sublime mysteries over
which an impenetrable veil is drawn, yet which
the intelligent mind feels and understands without
the assistance of corporeal agency. The seminal
ideas were implanted at our birth, they grow with
our growth, and imperceptibly produce their fruit
without the light and heat of external sunshine.—
How vague are the ideas we entertain of the per
sonal appearance of the angels! Enthusiasts of aft
notions, arrogantly people the celestial scenery
with the female beauty of their own time and
clime; and the poetic creation of the Venus de
Medici—the softened lineaments of Lucrece Bor
gia, have been used as the archetypes of the fe
male personages in altar-pieces, before whirls the
purest in heart and the strongest in brain, bow
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1850.
with reverence. The countenance and the drape
ry of angels depend upon the fitshion of the age
in which the artist lived, and the nation to which
he belonged. Michael Angelo's angels • are not
those of a modern Italian or a Frenchman—in the
age of Elizabeth of England, a high-Starched ruff
and hooped petticoat were angelic, because they
I concealed that which would have rendered the
saint equivocal—some artists fancy fat angels and
others lean, and a Flemish painter of the old
school would indignantly reject sack angels as
they fashion in China or Hindostan, as unworthy
of a place in the general exhibition. Even Ma
himmet's bowies will have a hard scratch to hold
their own, when the curtain. is raised and myriads
of long forgotten nations—the progeny of orbs un
known to earth—denuded of the costume of time
and station, stand forth to he tried by the impar
tial and, immutable test of universal beauty.
But I am losing sight of Mr. Dumps. His regi
men was somewhat remarkable. His organ of
alimentiveness was largely developed, and his
temperament was what phrenologists would pro
nounce the billions melancholic, combined with
the nervous and a sprinkle of the lymphatic. This
is all Hebrew-Greek to me, but doubtless is cor
rect, for lie was an extraordinary man, and richly
entitled to all the temperaments referred to by Gall
and Spurzheitn. Ile supped every night on clam
fritters, hard boiled eggs, pickled sturgeon, and
raw cabbage, all of which he washed down with
an unconstitutional quantity of muddy beer, that
he might snore fully enjoy the fantastic and horri
ble caprioles of the night-mare. The profound
gravity with which he would attack his nightly re
past, would have inspired Apicius with veneration
for his gastronomic abilities.
One morning he called upon me, and appearing
more dejected than usual, I inquired the cause--
1 he replied :
"I have exhausted all the places of rational
amusement in the city, wax-works, puppet-shows,
and all. I finally purchased a season ticket of
admission to that meritorious institution called
the Washington Museum, esteemed as the only
exhibition that could awaken the sensibilities of a
delicately attuned and cultivated mind. But I
have gazed so long upon the headless trunk of
' poor Marie Antoinette, the dying Hamilton, Mo
reau and many others—including the emaciated
Baron Trenck peeping through the bars of his
cage, like Sterne's starling, that they have lost
their pungency. The fountain of tears is exhaus
ted, and I am most miserably cheerful. I feel no
more pleasure in contemplating the jealous Moor
in the act of stabbing his sleeping Desahona, or
Queen Dido preparing to hang herself in her gar
ters, than I do in beholding those immortal wor
thies, Washington and Franklin, placidly seeming
to mail unutterable things illegibly scrawled upon
a piece of dirty parchinent, or the portly William
Penn, in the attitude of leading out a fair Quaker
ess to a eountry-dance. Nay, you will scarcely
credit it, but it is a melancholy fitct--I have be
come so accustomed to the horrible discord of
that eternal mg.-grinder, who silenced and put
the starved treble of flak-wenches out of counte
nance, that it no longer creates any titillation on
my tympanum, butt sounds as melodiously as the
music of the spheres. I am in absolute despair !
What shall I do I"
" Your are a bachelor and rich. Get married."
" That would be horrible, indeed; but then it
lasts for life. I wish variety; a monotony of hor
ror would pall upon the palate."
Yet Dydimus was a kind-hearted man. His
benefactions was liberally bestowed. His pen
tioners were comprised of the lame, blind and
destitute, whom he visited systematically to drop
his unseen charity, and though he could not min
isterto their minds by cheerful converse, he never
failed to awaken them to a keen sense of their for
lorn condition by his tears of sympathy.
" What's to be done I" continued Dydimus.—
, " This dearth of excitement will drive me to some
thing terrible."
"Do you never go to the theatre?"
"When Cook was here, I went, but seldom
since."
"Go now, and you will fuel the exhibitions
most truly awful."
" Say you so? You cheer me," ho exclaim
ed, leisurely rubbing his hands and smiling like a
caput mortum. "Pray inform me what sort of
shows do they •ekhibit to gratify a cultivated
taste 7"
"I see it announced that Mr. Stoker will hang,
himself for the first time, at the circus this even
ing, for the edification of an enlightened public."
" Hang himself! That indeed approximates
my ideas of the interesting. But is there no hum
bug about it? I despise humbug."
"I am assured:that it falls little short of a bonn
fide hanging, and that the exhibition is really de
lightful to those who take pleasure in witnessing
executions of the sort."
" I never saw a man hanged in ail my life, and
as It is probable I never shall, I would not neg
lect this opportunity of having my ideas enlarged
as to the manner of performing this interesting
branch of jurisprudence. Will you accompany."
"With pleasure, as they only hang in jest."
"The real thing must be exciting?"
"Doubtless, and more especially to the princi
pal performer."
We accordingly repaired to the circus at an
early hour, and took our seats us soon as the
doors were open. Dydimus was impatient until
the horsemanship commenced, but as the eques
trians performed their feats with so much self-pos
session, he soon became wearied with the monot
ony of the exhibition, and emphatically pronounc
ed it to bo a popular humbug. At length an ar
tist appeared in the arena, mounted without sad
dle or bridle, who rode like a lunatic flying from
his keepers, who had oat-voted him on the score
of sanity—throwing himself into all perilous at
titudes upon his unttuned Rucephalus.
"I-la! ha!" exclaimed Dydimus, "this is reali
ty! What was Geoffrey Gambado or the Mace
donian compared to him. The progress of the hu
man faculties toward perfection is wonderful. A
few ridingmasters of that description would soon
send harness makers to the region where the sou
of Philip no longer obstructs the sunshine of Dio
genes. I-Ic may have conquered a world, but he
would not make salt to his porridge if he were a
circus-rider in the present Age of improvement.—
A fig for the ancients and their Olympic games."
Mr. Dumps expected every moment to behold
the daring -rider's brains dashed out, but to his
great astonishment, not to say disappointment, the
agile equestrian invariably regained his equilibri
um when apparently in the most perilous position.
The anxiety and all absorbing interest awakened •
in the mind of Dydimus, became apparent by the,
contortions of his countenance, and the girations
of his nervous system. A lad seated beside him,
who was "native and to the manner born," and ,
who for some time had watched his movements
with mischievous satisfaction, addressed him in a
tone loud enough to attract, the attention of those
arutusi us—
". Stranger, there's no nso in frettingyour innards
to fiddle-strings; I know that 'ere covey, and he
would see the whole house, managers and all, in a
place unlit to mention, before he would tweak his
neck for the amusement of a levy spectator. Re
member we are in the pit, and he can't afford such
a show as that for a shilling, every day. Ile will
break it on his benefit night; you can go then and
get the worth of your money, and. encourage nmr
it."
This remnrk excited the risible faculties of those
who overheard it, and nydimus disconcerted, and
looking unutterable things, stammered out—
" Pshaw 1 Fudge 1 Do you take me for agreen
horn ? I know it all ed be catch-penny—consum
mate huntbng—imposture !"
"You wouldn't have him break his neck for a
shillingi Posterity, I grant, has never yet done
anything for us, but then, only think, how could
posterity possibly get along without that man 7
Let posterity know that we foster genius and pat
ronize the fine arts."
To escape the impertinence of the boy, Dyilimn9
turning to me, remarked—
"That equestrian would have been distinguish
ed among the Persians. To be a great horseman
with them
. was second only to shooting with the
bow and speaking the truth."
"The horse jockeys of the present day (Elfin:
front those of Persia. Ours draw a much longer
bow, and seldom speak the truth.
The horsemanship being over, Mr. Stoker made
his appearance, and as he ascended to the rope,
suspended frosts thereof of the theatre, Mr. Dumps'
pulse could not have throbbed more rapidly if he
had been placed in similar jeopardy. Ile was
eye. The gyninic commenced operations, awl when
at full swing he sprang headlong froitf his seat
thirty feet from the floor.
" Hum !" shouted Dumps, stat•sing to his feet.
"llama! there he goes! Nut a plank bent:leen
him awl eternity !"
There was a spontaneous burst of npplause,
which the showman modestly appropriated to his
own credit, though Mr. Dumps was entitled to
more than an equal division of the honor. Fortu
nately fur the rope-dancer, though to the chagrin
of some of the spectators, he had taken the precau
tion of fastening his right leg in a noose attached
to Liss swing, and thus ho was suspended, head
downwards, like Maltomet's coffin, between heav
en and earth. He w•as greeted with a more hearty
and spontaneous burst of applause than Newton
received when he illnstrated the laws of gravity.—
But what was Newton and all his disCoveries, iu
popular estimation, when brought in jtixta position
with the science of a rope-dancer! Mr. Stoker
soon discovering that it was an unpleasant position
for the blood to circulate through the human form
divine, that wonderful work—"Finxit in efligiem
modurantum (tunas, deorunt"--than he hastened
to regain his former position, which lie effected
without even dislocating a limb, and recommenced
his operations with Itself-complacency, which plain
ly demanded of the spectators--" Ladies and gen
tlemen, what do yon think of me 2"
After various feats of surprising agility he arri
ved at the acino of the exhibition—the be all and
the end all—which was to hang himself by the
neck. It was with filially that 1 could prevent
Mr. DuMps from making another ridiculous dis
play of his excited feelings as he beheld bins ad
justing the noose tirOltlld that ticklish part of the
human frame. Having fixed it to his satisfaction,'
he set his swing in motion, and wilco at the height
he slipped from his seat, and to the inexpressible
delight of all true admirers of the sublime and bea
tiful, there he was, sus. per. col., as natural as life
—no fiction, but the trite thing, hanging dingle
dangle. A shriek of horror burst from the unin
itiated, but Dyditutts, a true admirer of the beatt
tics of nature, in the ecstasies of the moment,
sprang to his feet, and clapping his bony hands,
shouted in a sepulchral voice.
" Beautiful! wonderful Encore, encore ! Do
it again !"
"'lithe rope had broke," suggested the boy sea
ted beside Dydinuts, "the laws of the land would
compel him to do it again, if it was the real thing
and no gammon—the people's majdsty is not to be
trifled with on such oceasions-Lbut by the lase of
the play-house, if you are dissatisfied, your only
redress is apply to the box-office for the return
,f your shilling. You couldn't •expect a man to
himself' all night to procure the means of get
thig a breakfast in the morning."
" You be—dashed," exclaimed Dytlimus, Mop-
_
el °
c ft r
ting from a sense of decorum a different word from
that which was uppermost in his thoughts, but the
expression of his countenance plainly indicated,
that he by no means intended to mollify the asper
ity of his denunciation by the change of a conso
nant.
The showman coincided in opinion with the mis
chievons persecutor of Mr. Dumps, and according
ly after hanging long enough to satisfy any reason
able spectator, he manifested his disinclined% to
terminate his illustrious career in this ridiculous
manner, and scrambling up the rope as gracefullly
as circumstances would admit, he regained a posi
tion of comparative security, The breathless sus
pense that had prevaded the theatre during his sus
pension, was succeeded by an unanimous burst of
applause, which made the sounding-board in the
dome vibrate with ecstasy, and the hero of the night
having made his obeisance with a solemnity becom
ing the important occasion, withdrew from the
scene of his triumph, as full of the conceit of dig
nity as Sancho Panza when installed governor of
Barataria. And this is fame. "Sepiterno nand
nebitur."
On leaving the circus I inquired of Mr. Dumps
how he was pleased with the entertainment.
"It is the very place forme," he replied. "lle
escaped to-night miraculously, but I shall live to
see that fellow hanged yet.. 1 shall purchase a sea
son ticket to-morrow morning, and attend regular
ly until some mischance puts a check to proud am
bition."
‘' You certainly would not be present at such n
melancholy occurrence?"
• "He is bound to le banged. His death-warrant
is already signed and sealed, • and there is no rea
son why I should not enjoy the exhibition as well
as another. If reasons were as plenty as black
berries you could not give me one."
He accordingly purchased a season ticket, and
became a constant attendant at the circus, is ex
pectation of witnessing some appalling accident,
but after wasting much time in this way, and noth
ing serious occurring, he became dissatisfied, for
though hanging he admitted to be a very rational
amusement for a week or so, yet by constant rep
etition it was deprived of its stimulating prOperties,
until it dwindled to a mere burlesque upon the
impressive sublimity of the real thing.
"I despise humbug," said Hydimas in conclu
sion, "and sat . never again cross the door of a
circus."
Some months after I walked with him along a
street, when his attention was 80,10114 arrested
by an of gan-grinder and an immense placard, which
exhibited in wood-en's humanity; more brutal than
the ravenous animals over which by the first law
man had been placed us the shepherd, and in blood
red characters was emblazoned the attractive ad-
vcrtisemott—
"Tito Horrors of the Inquisition Illustrated."
" There is something to be seen here," exclaim
ed Mr. Dumps, "which will enlarge the . mind of
the uniaitiated, As regards the progress of hymn
and Christianity in the civilized world."
" The quackery of charlatans to aggravate the
diseased imagination of ignorance, at the moderate
price of a shilling a dose."
" You are skeptical, but observe sir, the illustra
tions aro said to be by the best artists, and there is
a full description in print of each particular ease—
' and by the best authors. You would not doubt
what you see in print 1"
" Certainly not, if printed on hot-pressed vellum
with ti spacious margin. Swallow the Talmud :Ind
the Koran, and all the elaborate lueuhrations
of
_ insane philosophers that repose on the dusty
shelves of every well selected library, and your
cranium will soon become a more miscellaneous
menagerie than nature originally intended to con
fine within so limited a compass; a sort of rotating
kalcidescope, where beautiful images have but a
momentary existence, crumble in giving place to
others more attractive, and no power on earth can
ever reproduce them."
Dyilimus paid little attention to my remarks, but
wan intently reading the various placards stre'ved
about like bills cif fare to stimulate a morbid appe
tite, when a man approached and invited him in,
at the same time assuring him that he could not
fail being pleased—" As it was the most diabolical
exhibition over presented to a Christain comum
nity."
" Enough !" lte exclaimed, throwing himself into
the attitude of Hamlet, in his first interview with..
his father's shadow, clad in a coat of mail—which
incorporeal vestment must unquestionably have
been reduced to pig-iron, if there was any truth in
the statement of the ghost as to the temperature of
the regions whence he bad ascended, and theghost
' was an honest ghost—Trueponny could not lie—
"Go on," said Dytllmus iu a sepulchral tone—"(lo
on, I'll follow you."
We entered an apartment which had been care
fully fitted up to represent the infernal regions,
and was doubt:. • as accurate in the main, as the
descriptiol Dante, Qoevedo, Runyan and
others who • published theirtravels to that in
, wresting eount:',' ,t1 . ,,, ge is the ineonsisten
,ey of man, who lively pays to understand the
fabricated accounts of impudent impostors, when
he has a reliable promise, reiterated once a week,,
that he has already commenced his journey there,
and will shortly witness the real thing without fee •
or reward.
Mr guide, perceiving the astonishment of Dydi-
IMF, Mined to him and remarked hi a lachrymose
and nasal tone, which would have elicited tears
from monumental alabaster, upon which no tears
had over been shed :
"Alt, sir ! I see you have a soul to enjoy' these
matters. Man who 'was placed as the pastoral
protector of all animated nature, becomes the ty
rant, and finally directs his inhumanity to man,
and makes—''
VOL. XV,--NO. 50.
"0.! Born the quotation., I an, in pursuit of
facts and not ethics—go on with your show, and
let me Understand what entertainment you can
afford nu inquiring mind."
"Look you here, sir," continued the showman,
"and observe the operation of this wheel. This
gentle motion delicately disengages. the thigh
bones from the sockets—and this dislocates the
arms—never was there invented a snore perfect
piece of mechanism—this is the exact eXpression
while the wheel was in this position. The por
trait was taken from life—or rather between life
and death, by Albert Darer—an exceedingly
clever sketcher in his day, and wonderfully endued
with a proper appreciation of the fantastic and
horrible. By this Motion, sir, the chest, you ob
serve, is considerably elevated, but so gradually
as not to give any sadden shock to physical endu
rance, until by this additional turn of the wheel
we dislocate the spine. Leery thing complete,
you perceive, sir. Take a turn at the crank, and
you will see how systematically it operates."
" Beautiful !" exclaimed Mr. Dumps. "Equal
to a modern corn-shells❑ Man's talent for me
chanics is wonderful ! Even in his instruments
of torture he manifesto reil n en - lent. That machine
must have cost the ingenious inventor mueh'deep
reflection before he could have rendered It so per
fect. It moves like clock-work."
" Beats it all to nothing," said the showman
"for no ono Who has tried that. machine, ever
stood in need of clock-work afterward. Here, sir,
is the ingenious process of filling the bowels aim
obstinate witness with water for the purpose of
washing but the truth. If the proverb be correct,.
that truth lies at the bottom of a well, the surest
way to get at it is to fill a man's bowels with water
and then putnp it tit, out of him."
" to rine ?wiles, is n pioverb of equal nuthori
ty," said Dydhlins . ; they should have tilled hint
with wine. But truth bath many hiding-places
and is hard to be discorered.
" Look this way, sir. Here are two children
whose feet were roasted to a coal in the presence
of. their parents, and the instrument of torture in
which they were confined. This is the exact ex
pression of the countenance after ten minutes
roasting; and this, after the lapse of half an hour:
" If 'twere done when 'tis done, then 'twero well
It were steno quickly.'"
"Here is the punishment of the iron boot, cola
bmted for being the most dreadful ever invented ;
by which the bones in the legs are crushed and tho
marrow forced from them."
Thus he went on, describing the various modes
of torture in the exhibition, and perceiving the in
tetest felt by Mr. Dumps in his exaggerated nar
rative of blended fact and fiction, concluded by
informing hint that in the course of a few days he
would have it in his power to afford him inexprez
slide pleasure, for he hourly expected " The Virgin
Mary and her hundred lances," so celebrated in
the history of the infernal inquisition.
Mr. Dumps continued his visits here for several
weeks, to'study out the complicated machinery of
the hundred lances with which the victim was
transpierced, while expecting to receive a benedic
tion and maternal embrace. Ile admired the re
finement and htenanity of dispatching a wretch
from this world when his mind was wholly occu
pied with serious thoughts of another. Finally,
even .this scene of complicated horrors, became
"flat, stale and unprofitahle," and his mind could
find no food to batten on but itself. He was now
indeed a Melancholy man.
I had missed him for some time, and on inquiry.
learned that ho was dead. As his. departure from
this mundane sphere swan rather unceremonious for
a gentleman remarkable for his rigid observance
of decorum, a coroner's inquest was hold to ascer
tain the cause of his hasty exit, bat more cape
daily to put money in that worthy officer's pocket.
It appeared that on the evening previous to his
death, his mind being mach depressed, he indulged
to excess in his favorite mina of clams and stur
geon, in order to keep np his spirits, from which
some conjectured he had died of a surfeit, but as
they found in his chamber a wheel-berro* load of
the writings of modern French novelistS, a volume
of which was open before him, one of the jury
men exculpated the clams and sturgeon from all
ptirticipation in the transaction, for, as ho remark
ed, " Those books are a vast deal harder of diges ,
Lion, and in truth, if taken in large doses, would
he enough to kill the—dickens." There was a
difference of opinion in the minds of those juror.
who flattered themselves they had minds, as to the
cause of the death of nydhuus, and as they found
it impossible to agree, they buried him without a
verdict, and the county paid the coroner his costa.
An APOLOOT.—oId Mr. 11—, who rebidea
in a certain village in Alpine, and who is a mem
ber of the church militant, got in a passion, - one
lay, with Mt. M—, one of hisbrethren, and, a
mong other naughty things, declared ho was not
tit to carry swill , to the hogs;_ whereupon M--
had him arraigned beibre the church, on which oc
casion he was requested to make an apology.—
The proper time haringarrired, ll arose, and
addressed the brethren .thllows :
"M) ctn . Winn friends, I did feel that I have deep
ly injured brother for which 1 ate heartily
sorry. I did any he wits not tit to curry swill to:
the ho g s, and I now take it back, being firmly
of the opinion that be is amply qualified chat
. .
Erosomr.—A Dutch farmer down on the Me
hawk had just built a new barn, and While:the op
eration of Shingling was going on, he ono dew
mounted to the roof to overlook operations, and
soon discovered a great piece of extravagance in
the workmen, and that wes, that while they drovo
but o n o nail in the small shingles, they invariably
put two in the large ones. Mynheer t.aid nothing,
but while the boss and hands were at dinner, he
went out to the Mum with botched in hand, ■nd
spilt all the wide sh4Wes.