VOLUME XVI.
The Return of Spring.
Dear as the dove, whose wafting wing
The green leaf ransomed from the main,
Thy genial glow, returning Spring,
Comes to our shores again;
For than bast been a wanderer long,
On ninny n fair and foreign strand,
In halm and beauty, sun and song,
Passing from land to land.
Thou bring'st the blossoms to the bee,
To earth a robe of emerald dye,
The leaflet to the naked tree,
And rainbow in the sky;
I feel thy blest benign control
The pulse of my youth restore;
Opening the spring of sense and soul,
To love and joy once more.
I will net people thy green bowers
With sorrow's pale and spectre band;
Or blend With thine the faded flowers
Of Meinory's distant land; .
For thou were surely never given
To Wake regret from pleasures gone;
But like an angel sent from Heaven,
To soothe creation's groan.
Then, while the groves thy garlands twine,
Thy spirit breathes the Hower and tree,
My heart shall kindle at thy shrine,
And worship Cod in thee;
And in some calm, sequestered spot,
While listening to the choral strain,
Pest griefs shall be awhile forgot,
And pleasures bloom again.
I Would not have thee Young
Again.
BY AM SIDNEY DYER.
I would not have those hours return
Which flushed thy cheeks with rosy youth,
To quench the light of golden years,
In memory linked with thee and truth.
I know thine eyes are growing dim,
Thy voice has lost its bird-like strain,
Tot, there's such beauty in thine age,
I would not have thee young again!
Thy gentle band is tremulous,
Thy steps become less light and free;
They say that thou art greatly changed,
And so thou 'art to all but me.
Though form and Mee may be less file,
It brings to me no thought of pain;
Since love grows bright as beauty fades,
1 would not have thee young again!
I see among thy auburn locks .
The first pale rays of silver now,
A 'shade of care is on thy face,
A Wrinkle forming on thy brow;
But, oh! my love, like ivv boughs,
Grows greener as thy beauties wane,
And there's such sweetness in thine age,
I would not have thee young again!
From the London Examiner.
THE STORY OF A PICTURE.
Amidst the noble collection of paintings which
adorn the walls of tl:e Louvre, there is one which
may perchance have arrested the eye of sdnie
amongst our readers, vying, ns it does, in warmth
of coloring and vigor of expression, with some of
the best paintings of the Dutch and Flemish
school.
It is named, in the catalogue, "The Black
smith and his Family," and its history is one so
full of tonc:iing and, domestic interest, that we
feel it ought not to pass unrecorded. '
There lived, in the seventeenth century, two
brothers, both painters, and endowed with equal
talent—a circumstance of rare occurrence in the
history of art.
Born at Leon, towards the close of the six
teenth century, they were brought up together,
end through life remained inseparable. They
had but one work-shop, one purse, one table
same spirit seemed to animate them both in life,
and in death they were not divided, for they clos
ed their earthly career in two days of each other,
in May, 1648.
Loving, as they did, nature under her simplest
aspect, and humanity in its most primitive and
urtiophisticated form, they patted much of their
time in wandering amongst the cottages of Cunt
bresis, sketching the peasant groups which they
met upon the road, or found seated around the
cottage hearth, as well as the hardy labourer,.
guiding his oxen through the well-ploughed field,
and the aged beggar who wandered, desolate and
alone, from door to door.
This simple style was thou but little appreciated
iu France, where the fine ladies of the Court dis-.
dained to admire even the ehef-d'aurres of the
Flemish school. Our young artists had, there
fore, but slight prospects of emerging from obscu
rityond were pursuing their tranquil' and unno
ticed career, when suddenly the hand of death
threatened to cut off the younger brother in his
prime, before a single work loud been achieved
which would cause his name to be handed down,
to posterity.
They had walked together a considerable dis
tance frum home, in order to sketch a picturesque
Luilding, half farm-house, halt-forge, such as are
fvequeutly to be met with in that part of the coun
try.
Whilst they are thus engaged, Antoine was
seized with sudden and severe Hines.. Louis,,
his elder brother, wished to convey him to the
nearest inn, but soon found the attempt impracti
cable, and was constrained to accept the hospital-
ity which was so cordially proffered by the wor
thy blacksmith and his family.
The name of these good people was Herbolot,
and their domestic circle consisted of the father
of the family, his wife, their three obildren, and
an aged grandfather. Each had his' daily task to
fulfil, anti with cheerful heart% did they each
strive to accomplish it. The husband wielded
via wassive hammer, the eldest boy blew the till- I
1 - .75, his little brother carried the eharcoal to feed
1181 1 , - tr(lof,Tri
the flame, and ran on his father's errands, whilst
the good wife attended to her domestic concerns,
and even the old man was ever ready to lend a
helping hand when his assistance was required.
These simple and kind-hearted people quickly
prepared their best bed for the sick man, and
vied with each other in their anxiety to do all
they could to alleviate his sufferings.
The best medicine in the world (we trust the
faculty will excuse us for saying so) is watchful
and devoted care; and so it proved in the present
instance; the patient rallied, contrary to all hu
man expectation, without the aid of any more ex
perienced Eseulapius than the village doctor,
whose chief remedies were those which nature
herself prescribes—cooling drinks while the fever
lusted, nourislimnt and generous wines during
the exhaustion which succeeded. •
This primitive regimen was, however, success
ful, and in ten days the young painter was able to
rise from his bed. But as his convalescence was
not likely to be a rapid one, he expressed a wish
110 longer to trespass upon the kindness of his
host, but to use his returning strength to repair to
a neighbouring hostelry.
"No, no, that must npt be," exclaimed the
worthy blacksmith; "you are now quite one of the
faintly; you must remain with us until the baptism
of our fourth child, and stand its godfather, too."
Thu brothers could not refuse an invitation
thus cordially pressed upon them, but they would
accept it only upon one condition.
"You must," said they, "allow us to employ
this interval of time in painting a fianily group,
which shall include each member of your domes
tic circle, from the oldest to the youngest. This
painting, when completed, we will leave with you
as a slight memorial of our gratitude."
The blacksmith gladly accepted the offer, his
wife coloured with pleasure, and the children
skipped about and clapped their hands for joy.
Next day the painters set to work. The forge
was converted into an atelier, their easel was pla
ced oppsito the furnace, and the whole family
were grouped around the anvil, the flame which
burned on the hearth casting a ruddy glow over
the scene.
Three weeks passed away; the painting was
completed, and a fourth son was born to the
blacksmith. On the day which succeeded his
birth, he was baptized by the name of Antoine,
and on the same joyful occasion the picture of
the flintily group was duly installed in the best
parlor, and gaily decorated with flowers, to the
great admiration of the guests who were invited
to partake of the christening feast. Gladly would
these kind-hearted people have retained site young
artists yet longer among them, but business call-H
ed them away, and with grateful hearts they quit
ted the hospitable roof.
As they were bidding the good mother a hearty
farewell, Antoine whispered in her ear, "keep the
painting we have given you, as a remembrance of
our visit. It is now of but little worth, for our
names are as yet unknown to fame; but perhaps
it may ono day prove a good inheritance for our
god-son."
Twenty-five years had passed away, and An
toine Ilerbelot was a soldier in the king's service.
Some time had elapsed since any tidings of the
young man had reached his family, and they were
becoming very anxious to learn his fate, when his
father one day received from him a letter, an
nouncing that dating a sea expedition he had
been carried away by 'Algerine pirates, end was
now threatened with immediate death at the can
non's mouth, if six thousand francs were not
quickly furnished as his ransom.
Six thousand francs! the sale of the paternal
home itself would not realize the sum; the elder
brother must also part with the little farm which
he had acquired by his marriage.
The whole family, however, without one dis
senting voice, agreed to make the sacrifice, and
were consulting together on the steps which it
would bemecessary to take to accompli,h their ob
ject, when Providence furnished them with most
unexpected succour.
A young girl of the neighbourhood, named
Louise Danehet, who had long been .betrothed to
the young soldier, was present when the fatal let
ter arrived. She was at first overrwered with
grief and astonishment, but in a few moments a
sudden thought scented to flash across her mind,
and suddenly rising from her seat, she hastily left
the house.
The spot toward which she directed her steps
was the neighl;ouring chateau of Val—, which bad
been lately purchased by a rich banker, to whom
her brother acted in the capacity of gamekeeper.
M. d'Amivon, who had once filled the situation
of steward in the household of the Prince do Conti,
now assumed all the airs of a grand seigneur tak
ing possession of his castle, and was especiall de
sirous of passing himself °fres an enlightened am
ateur of painting.
Louise, who had been asked by her brother, a
few days before, to assist hiiii to unpack some pic
tures, hall perceived in the corner of one amongst
them the signature, " Louis & Antoine tenant,"
and had been struck by the resemblance borne
by some figures in the group to those of the ller
helot family.
The young artists having always retained a
place in the kindly remembernce of the good pee-
pie of the village, Louise had frequently hea-d
them spoken of, and when the well-knoun names
met her eye in the corner of the canvas, it at once
occurred to her that this painting, which, trout the
care bestowed upon it, she concluded was greatly
prized by its owner must be the product of their
pencils.
It was upon this thought she now acted. With
HUNTINGDON, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 24, 1851.
breathless haste, she hurried to the chateau, and
begged to be allowed to speak to M. d'Amivon.
She was introduced into the the very apartment
in which hung the painting executed by the bro
thers Lenain.
"Sir," said the young girl, timidly, "forgive
me if I am making too bold with yon, but will you
tell me whether that picture is worth a great
deal 7"
"Yes indeed it is, my good girl," replied M. d'
Amivon; " but what makesyou feel and interest
hi the subject'?"
Louise hesitated for moment. & then said, "Be
cause I thought, sir, that if yon set a great value
by it, you might wish to buy another, painted by
the some artists, and we have one in our village
which I am quite sure is as good, if not better than
this."
"Indeed! are you sure of that? I urn afraid you
are no great connoisseur of painting. But where
could I see this one you praise so much, and
form my own judgment on the matter?"
"At M. llerbelot's forgo, sir if you please to
come there to-morrow at noon."
"Very well; I shall be there to-morrow, by
twelve o'clock. You may tell him so if you like."
Louise Dandies made a low curtest', and reti
red, lcavig M. d'Amivon equally surprised at her
good manners, and tee singularity of a painting by
the brothers Lenain being ofibrcd for sale at a
blacksmith's shop!
Louise at first only confided her project to the
mother of her betrothed; for she knew well that the
good blacksmith value his picture so much that
ho would rather sell Isis bed from under hint than
part with it. Ile was to go next day at noon, with
his three sons, to the village notary, to arrange
matters for the sale of his forge, as well as of the
little farm belonging to his eldest son; Louise was
therefore pretty sure that the coast would he
clear at that hour, and that M. d'Ainivon might
examine the painting at his leisure.
Punctual to his appointed time, else banker du
ly arrived sit the forge at twelve o'clock, and was
ushered by Madame Ilerbelot and Louise into the
best parlour, where the portrait of the family group
had now bung for five-and-twenty years.
At the first glance, M. d' Amivon allowed that
this was yet a finer painting than the one he pos
sessed."
'• But, how in the name of wonder," he ex
claimed, "did you happen to acquire such a
treasure?"
Madame Herbelot, in a simple and touching
manner, related the history of the young artists'
stay amongst them, at' their gratitude for the kind
nesses they had received, the birth of the little
Antoine, and. the family portrait which his god
father had left !din as a potting gift, and then with
tears she told how this beloved child was in the
peril of death, and how, for his sake, they were
going to give tip the home where they had passed
so many years in peace and happinss. The bank
er who, though a little pompous and self-sufficient,
Was, in truth,a kind-hearted man, listened, with
deep interastest to her tale, and when the poor
mother and the affianced bride at length cast them
selves at his feet, and implored him with the ut
most earnestness to purchase the painting for six
thousand francs—the sum demanded for the young
man's ransom—he raised them with a smile and
said :
" You need not waste so many entreaties on
the matter, my good friends. This painting is
worth eight thousand francs, and I could not, in
consequence, give less for it. You may tell Iler
helot to come to my house for that sum as soon
as ho likes."
The joy of the two poor women on hearing this
offer may more readily be conceived than descri
bed. All that now remained to be done was to
persuad the smith to part with his favorite pic
ture. There was u hard struggle in the poor
man's mind; as fir as he, himself, was concern
ed, be would almost have given up anything else;
bat when he thMight of his wife and children
about to be driven from their home, and his cap
tive son waiting, with an anxious heart, for the
sum which was to ransom him from death, he
hesitated no longer, but hastened with the paint
ing to the Chateau do Val—.
lkre, a new source of consolation awaited him.
M. d' Amivon happened to have a young artist
staying in his house, who, seeing the pour man's
grief at pn►Ying with the cherished portrait, kind
ly offered 'to copy it for him during his leisure
hours.
That very evening, notice was given to the vil
lage notary to dountermand the sale of the forge;
and the six thousand francs, duly confided to the
farmer-general, were on their way., to Algiers,
whilst the remaining two thousand were laid aside
for the use of the expected captive.
A few weeks after these occurrences had taken
place, a joyous and light-hearted soldier . was seat
ed in the old family parlour at the forge. The
well-known painting no longer ashamed its walls,
but a happy group, seated arousal the well-cov
ered table, and listening with delight to the sol
dier's tales, felt they could have sacrificed much
more than this, to see this beloved son and broth
er once again amongst them. Louise Danclust,
aural may readily suppose, formed one of the
party, nor was the young soldier slow in claiming
her long-pledged promise to become one slay his
bride.
In the midst of all this happiness however, the
thought of their kind benefactors continually pre
sented itself to their minds, with an earnest long
ing to see them once more, and tell them how
much they owed them.
" Well," exclaimed Antoine Herbelot, a few
days before the time appointed for his union with
Louise, " I do not see how we could better employ
a part of that two thousand francs whioh remain•
ed after my ransom was paid, than by setting out
for Paris to see the good brothers Lenain, and in
vite them to the wedding."
This proposition met with universal &coin., and
the whole family, without delay, hastened to Par
is, to search fur their early friends. It was not
dillictdt to discover them, for they were now well
know to fame, and had been made members of
the Royal Academy of Painting ; but this change
had made no alteration in their kindly smplicity
of heart,and they welcomed the worthy blacksmith
and his family with open arms.
Their god-son coon infiwined theta of the his
tory of their christening gift, and asked them, as
a crowning fiivour, to visit (awe more their quiet
village, and grace his approaching marriage with
their much-desired presence.
The invitation was gladly accepted, and not
many days afterwards the whole ',arty returned to
the Canthresis; nor did any long period elapse
before is joyous peal of hells announced that the
ransomed soldier and Louise Danchet were at last
united for life. We need not say that many a
grateful look rested upon the two painters daring
that festive day, and that theirs were not the least
happy amongst the many joyous hearts there
assembled.
This little history, we would beg to assure our
readers, is no untrue talc. It is well known in
the Camin•esis, where it is told by many a winter
hearth.
The painting of the "Blacksmith and his Fan,
Hy" was purchased front M. d' Amieon by the
Prince de Conti, who paid ten thonsand francs
for it. At length from hand to hand, it passed
into the (loyal collection, and we feel assured that
I should any of onr readers hereafter wander through
the noble galleries of the Louvre, they will pause
to gaze with more than artistic interest on the
painting which was.once n" Soldier's ransom,"
England and America.
We are glad to see on the part of those who are
the moral, and we hope influential teachers in
England two favorable signs of Reform, the one is
a more just estimate of Republican Institutions of
American, and the other is a disire to reform the
political and local abuses incident to long estab
lished customs. The North British Review, In the
conclusion of a very favorable notice of Sir Charles
Lydial' travels in this country, says •
" Our object is to persuade England to res
pect American—to love her as the first born of
her political family; and with the affection of a
parent, to rejoice in her progress, and pray fin• the
consolidation and prosperity of her empire.—
Though dauntless in her mien, and collossal in
her strengih she displays upon her banner the star
of peace. Shedding its radiance upon us, let us
reciprocate the celestial light ; and, strong nod
peaceful ourselves. we shall have nothing to fear
from her power, but everything to learn from her
example."
tie Charles Brewster, is said to be the author
of these remarks,and the civilization and resources
of the country, as pictured in the book of Lyell
has called them forth. We hope that England,
will consent so far to profit by the good example,
thus kindly set forth as to reform some of the
abuses which we find set forth in a late number of
Blackwood's Magazine
" In London there are 20,000 journeymen tail
ors, of whom 14,000 earn a miserable existence
by working It hours a day, including Sunday.—
There are also in the stone city 32,000 sewing we
men,who op nn nyerageonake only 4id 7 9 cents
a day, by working 14 !lours—not unite :; of a cent
per hoar.
In Ireland, it appears from a report to govern-.
meat, etude in July, 1847, that 3,5)50,712 persons
subsisted on public alms, about 40 per cent. of the
population,. The nominal rental in Ireland is
$05,000,000. The sum expended for the rehiefof
the poor $6,370,595, one ninth of the rental.—
There were 259,090 persons in poor houses, nod
48.000 iu jail. [lreland is not ]urger than Ohio.]
In Glasgow, one fourth of the burials are at the
public expense. 13 per cent of the population
are paupers.
In England the average poor rates for ten years
pest has amounted to $:30,000,000.
In Ireland $7,500,01 a year are expended to
feed a starving population.
In 1826, .the immigration' from the British
Isles was 26,000 persons, in 1849 the number was
300,000.
In 30 years, crime in Great Brituir and Ireland
• has increased 500 per cent, while population has
increased only 30 per cent. In 1822 there were
57,183 jail commitments in England, Scotland aunt
Ireland; iq 1850 there were 74,162.
These are appalling facts, and how widely do
they contrast with the state of things in the United
States. England drives thousands of her poor
from her every year, and the United States re
ceives them. There, the poor, by a system of
bail government, are made nuderingly desti
tute, while here, the rich tare made richer by
these very exiled Britons, and at the same time
they are put upon the high road to independence
and wealth.
A New Omnibus.
A new omnibus has been introduced into Lon
don, so arranged that every passenger has a door ,
a seat and a window for himself, with a gutta
percha tube throngh which to convey orders. to
the cad. The arrangement is most ingenious.
The only difficulty is, that friends getting in have
no opportunity of saying a word to each other un ,
til the journey is performed. Connected with
every seat, or cell, or box, whichever it may be
called, is a self-acting machine fur registering the
daily number of passengers.
0,
ei
war "72
From the London Examiner.
Flowers in a Sick Room
AMONG the terrors of our youth we well re
member there were certain poisonous exhalations
said to arise from plants uuddlowers,•if allowed to
share our sleeping-loom during the night; as
though objects of loveliness, when seen by day
light, took advantage of the darkness to assume
the qualities of the ghoul or the vampyre. Well
do we remember how maternal anxiety removed
every portion of vegetable life from our bedroom
lest its gases should Jolson us before morning
This opinion, and the cognate one that plants in
rooms are always injurious, is prevalent stilloind
it operates snout unfavorably in the ease of basi
-1 idden, or the invalid, by depriving them of a
thatcher garden, which would otherwise make
time put off its leaden wings, and while away, in
innocent amusement, many a lagging hour. Now,
we assure our readers that this is a popular super
stition, & will endeavor to put them in possession
of the grounds on which our statement is founded.
In doing so, we do not put forth any opinions of
our own, but the deductions of science, for the
truth of which any one at all acquainted with
vegetable physiology can vouch..
Plants, in a growing state, absorb the oxygen
ens of the atmosphere, and throw off carbonic
acid. These are facts; and as oxygen is 11CCCPSary
to life, and carbonic acid injurious to it, the coo
elusion has been jumped at, that plants in apart
' menus must have a deleterious influence. But
there is another fact equally irrefragible, that
Iplants fad on the carbonic acid of the atmosphere,
and are, indeed, the grand instruments employed
in the laboratory of Nature for purifying it from
the noxious exhalations of animal life. From the
spacious forests to the blade of grass which forces
itself up through crevices of a street pavement,
every portion of verdure is occupied in disinfect
ing the air. By means of solar light, the carbonic
acid, when taken in by the leaves, is decomposed ;
its carbon going to build up the structure of the
;Aut, and its disengaged oxygen returning to the
air we breathe. It is true that this process is stop
ped in the darkness, and that then a very small
portion of ca•bouic acid is evolved by plants; but
as it is never necessary for a patient to sleep in a
room with flowers, we need say nothing on that
subject. Cleanliness, and other• considerations,
would saggest having a bedroom as free as possi
ble during the night, and our object is answered
if w•e show that vegetation is not injurious in the
day. That it is, on the contrary, conducive to
health, is a plain corollary of science.
Perhaps the error we are speaking of may have
originated from confounding the effects of the
odors of plants with a general result of their pres
ence. Now, all strong scents are injurious, and
those of some flowers are specially so, nod ought
on no account to lie patronized by the invalid.—
But it happens, fortunately, that a very large class
of plants have either no scent at all, or so little as
to be of no consequence, so that there is still room
lot an extensive selection. This. - then, is one
rule to be observed in chamber-gardening.—
Another is, that the plants admitted should be iu
perfect health, for while growing vegetation is
healthful, it becomes noxious wliensickly or dead.
Thirdly, let the most scrupulous cleanliness be
maintained; the pots, saucers, and the stands be
in_ adirn subjected to ablutions. Under this head,
also, we include the removal of dying leaves, and
all flowers, before they have quite lost their beau
ty, since it is well known that the petals become
unpleasant in sonic varieties as soon as the merid
i•an of their brief life is passed. By giving atten
tion to these simple regultditons, a sick chamber
may have its windows adorned with ;Rowers with
out the slightest risk to the health of the occu- •
pant, and in saying this we open the way to
some of the cost gentle lenitives of pain, as well
as to the sources of rational enjoyment. If those
who ran go where they please, in the sunshine
and the EIIIIIIC, can gather wild flowers in their
natural dwellings, and cultivate extensive gar
de., still find pkasnre in a few -favorites indoors,
how much more delight must such treasured pos
sessions confer on those whom Providence has
made prisoners, and who must have their all of
verdure and floral beauty brought to them
The Cheerful Heart
It is not-essential to the happy home that there
should be the luxury of the carpeted floor, the
cushioned sofa, the soft shade of the astral lamp.
These elegaucies gild the apartments, but they
reach not the heart. It is neatness, order, and a
cheerful heart, which makes home that sweet par
adise it is so often found to be. There is joy as
real, as heart-felt. by the cottage fire-side, as in
the most splendid saloons of wealth and' refine
ment. The luxuries and tleganeiesof life are not
to be despised. They are to be received with
gratitude. But the possession does not insure
happiness. The source of true joys are not so
shallow. The cheerful heart, like the kaleido
scope, causes most discordant materials to arrange
themselves in ha'mony•stnd beauty.
Peach Worm.
It is said that a mixture of one ounce of salt
petre mid seven ounces of salt, applied on the sur
face of the ground, in contact and around the
trunk of a peach tree seven years old and up
wards, will destroy the worm, prevent the yel
lows, and add much to the product and quality of
the fruit. Also, sow the orchard with the saute
mixture, at the rate of two bushels to the acre.
cir A young lady being asked why she did nut
attend a party to which she had been invited re
plied :
" I forgot all about the party, and eat onions
for breakfast !" Well, that's or renson.
NUMBER 16.
Fruit Trees.
The Cultivator states that the new method of
raising trees by planting scions is a great consid
eration in the art of obtaining good fruit. It has
many advantages over grafting, because it is more
expeditious and requires no stock nor tree. They
may be planted where they are required to stand,
and the labor for 'one day will be sufficient to
plant out enough for a large orchard after the sci
ons arc obtained. The method of preparing the
plant is as followst—Take tire scion as for grafting,
and ra, any time after the first of February, and
until the buds Legit) to grow considerably, and
dip each Cull of the shoot into melted pitch, wax.
or tallow, and bury it in the ground, the buds up
permost, while the body lies in a horizontal,posi
lion and at the depth of two or three inches. We
are informed that trees obtained in this way will,
bear in four yeais front the time of planting. We
have no doubt of the practicability of this method
of raising fruit. A gentlentan in this vicinity,
the last season, planted about twenty scions of
different kinds of pears which appear to flourish.
The composition used by him was melted shoe—
maker', wax.
A Truthful Remark
The Lthanon Cortrirr says, Daniel NVebster, in
his late visit to Harrisburg, made u speech which
has been copied 11,111 sire end of the Union to the
other. Its delivery, however, did not occupy
more than fifteen or twenty Minutes of time, 'yet
it suggested tircts and ideas enough for any sue
to take hold ofund digest at one sitting. It is
such speeches that should be patterned after
those wlibse professions coil them to wake public
addresses.
G 5 It has been eloquently and truly said, Cate
if Christianity were compelled to flee from the
mansions of the great, the academies of philoso
phers, the balls of legislators, or the throngs of
busy men, we should find her last retreat with
woman at the flreside. ITer last audience would
be the children gathering aiound the knees of a
mother, the last sacrifice, the secret payer, coca.
ping in silence from her lips, and heard, perhaps,
only at the throne of God!
The editor of the Allegheny 'Enterprise says lid
has seen a horned rat. Thera is a rat in this city
that takes a horn frequently. Be always smokes
cigars, and the printers think he is a decent fol.:
low, in a horn.
The Quiet of Boston.
The Boston Journal of the 9th instant says that
tho •: 01 she watch are con
stantly un duty. and the effict is to keep the city
quiet. The police are called " the Guard of the
city," and the Jeurno/ alto t—
"• The officers, for two or three mornings past,
hare been drilledto s 11'1011,S military evu'ations,,
under the diamond of that experienced soldier
and polio officer, Captain Samuel G. Adams.—
It might prove beneficial to the health of those
who are eager fur a riot, to he '; up with the
lark," and enjoy the pure air of the morning, and
a walk to Court square as early as half past four
or fist o'clock, to witness thin parade and drill of
the Guard of' the city. Under the, present man
agement of matters fur the securi'y of the 'midis
peace, our citizens need hare no fears hut that
good order will 1,0 pre.erred, the lawS es:forced,
and the authorities ptulected in the performance
of their duties."
The Boston 71 arts,* says of Sims
" The prisoner is kept in one of the jury rooms
of the Court blouse, and the usual large posse of
police in constant attendance both in and around
the building. 'There are but few people lingering
about the square and the excitement seemed to be
entirely allayed. It is estimated that the expen
ses attending the case arc little ifany below 4;1000 -
Hr day, nail it is prob,Ny au open (lue 4.:0n at to
"who pays,'' i!., ner of Simms, who
hiss already paid SM,O f,r 11, vent to come on;
the United Staies, or the city .0 .vanment.
lit
sides the police force there aria Inc a large bill, of
expenses for tl.c
Thu Transcript adds, at a later date, that
Ammo,. has purchased from the agent of the
Southern master, the shire SIMS, for the sum of
slsoo—the slave to bc sent hack to that city in
six weeks from this time, idler having gone thong!'
the necest.aq forms of delivery in Certgia.
Final Passage of the Approptia
MIL
• Tt will be seen by reference to the proceedings of
the two Houses of the I..e,lisluture, the that
the General Appropriation Bill, as it was pending
on the 12th, was refeiied to a Commtltae of Con
ferenee of the two Houses, who failed to agree,
,nd.that the hill was consequently lost.
Late in the afternoon, however, Mr, Rim- read.
j a new hill in place, very similar to that which had
just fallen, which was referred to the Committee
of Ways and Menus.
At eight o'clock in the evening, the committee
reported the bill, & it was passed rapidly through
both Ilouses & will doubtless rrcydeve the signa
ture of the ixecutive to day. The bill appropri
ate, THREE HUNDRED AND MTV THOUSAND DOL
LAItS. to he equally divided between the Allegheny
Portage ilailrond end the North Branch Canal,
and thus avoids the LOAN, which the large appro
priations in the former •bill, seemed, in the opinion'
of the House, to render necessary.
Marriage of Professor Webster's
Daughter.
Miss Harriet W., (daughter of the late Prof.
Webster,)was married at Cambridge, Mass., on
the 2d inst., to Mr. S. W. Dabney, of Faval, the
brother of her elder sister's h usband. When her
father was convicted of the murder of 1)r. Park
mm, thin young holy, who had fur some time been
betrothed to Mr. 1)., absolved hint from his en
gagement, which, however, with a manliness that
did him honor, he would nut accept. They with
Mrs. Webster, are about milting a visit to. Fayel.
'A beautiful woman once said to General
Shields, who, by the by, is an Irishman.
" How is it that, having obtained so much glo
ry, you still seek for morel"
" Ah I madam," he replied, " how is It that
you, who hare have no mush treaty, should AAA
put on rmier ?"