VOL. 6--NO. 39.]
TUT: (;ARL A l;/ If).
--" With sweetest flowers enrich'd,
From various trartlens cull'd with care."
91... A woman's hand traced the following lines,which
only woman's true and fund heart could have in
spired.
THE WIPE'S PRAYER.
The young wife kneeling to her God,
Seems brighter far in this lone scene
Than when our halls ofmirth she trod,
'Midst Fashion's throne, a worshipp'd queen
Gaze on—the love that fills her heart
New charms hath lent to cheek and brow—
Gaze on— but hush! the pure lips part,
Perchance for t'ee short' pleading now:
"Hear me, thou who markest each feeling,
, Thou who know'st each passion's sway;
At thy sacred altar kneeling
For a being loved I pray!
lie is dearer than the mother
Who bath been my life's fond guide—
He
k 'nearer than a 'mother.'
Though a brother's still my pride
Oft ere summer's bloom had perish'd,
For the lover's w,•al I plead—
Fat her' on the husband cherish'd,
Now thy choicest blessings shed!
In all 'peril and temptation,'
- and him with thy holy might;
'Mid the charms of power and station.
Keep a noble spirit bright.
Bless him, Father! he is starting
Proudly for the goal of fame—
Oh' may every year departing,
Add fresh laurels to his name!
Grant him Genius's inspiration—
Wisdom's eloquence divine—
He is pledg'il unto a nation,
Let him in her councils shine.
Be his guide—and for earth's sorrow,
Fur the blight, the cloud, the thorn,
So prepare him, that each morrow
On a fearless heart may dawn.
Father! if the love I hear him
Lend his path a brighter ray;
If that love one pang can ware him,
Aid me still to cheer his way.
Should his manhood's prime be shaded,
Let him on this heart repose—
It will prove, when joys are faded,
Desert spring and forest rose.
Strengthen, guard and guide him ever!
May he glory in love's chain.
Till its links thy angel sever,
fie'er oil earth to clasp again!"
AN A.IiitIIMNG TREAT.
[NO. XXVI.]
JA PHET,
IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
Kr CONTINUED FROM OUR LAST.
"No, not even that; for while I was busy
after some that ran one way,the others kick•
ed my basket before them like a foot ball,
until it was fairly out of sight. I had only
eight•pence in my pocket, so you perceive,
Japhet,how I was going down in the world."
"You were indeed, Tim."
"Well, I walked away, cursing all the
Eton boys and all their tutors, who did not
teach them honesty as well as Latin and
Greek, and put up at a very humble sort of
abode, where they sold small beer, and gave
beds at two-pence per night and I may add,
with plenty of fleas in the bargain. There
I fell in with some ballad singers and mum•
pers,who were making very merry, and who
asked me what was the matter. I told them
how I had been treated, and they laughed
at me,but gave me some supper, so I fiegave
them. An old man,who governed the party,
then asked me whether I had any money.
1 produced my enormous capital of eight
pence. "Quite enough if you are clever"
said he; quite enough--many a man with
half that sum has ended in rolling in his car
riage. A man with thousands has only the
advance of you a few years. You will pay
for your lodging, and then spend this six
pence in matches, and hawk them about the
town. If you are lucky, it will be a shilling
by tomorrow night. Resides, you go down
into areas, and sometimes enter a kitchen,
when the cook is above stairs. There are
plenty of things to be picked up." "But I
am not dishonest," said I. "Well then,every
man to his liking; only if you were, you
would ride in your own coach sooner." "And
suppose I should lose all this, or none will
buy my matches, what then?" replied I, "I
'shall starve." "Starve--no, no--no one
:starves in this country; all you have to do
is to get into gaol—committed for a month
—you will live better perhaps than you ever
Aid before. I have been in every goal in
England and I know the good ones, for even
is goals there is a great difPrence. - Now
the one in this town is one of the best in all
England, and 1 patronizes it during the win
ter." I was much amused with the discourse
.of this mumper, who appeared to be one of
the merriest old vagabonds in England. I
took his advice, bought sixpenny-worth of
matches, and commenced my new vagrant
:speculation.
"The first day I picked up three-pence for
, one quarter of my stock, and returned to the
-same place where I had slept the night be.
lore, but the fraternity had quitted on an
-expedition. I spent my two-pence in bread
Andcheese, and paid one penny for lodging,
and again I started the next morning, but I
twas very unsuccessfi l? no body appeared
'to want matches that day, and fillet walking
from seven o'clock in the morning, to past
seven in the evening, without selling one
farthing's worth, I sat down at the porch of
a chapel, quite tired and worn out. At last
I fell asleep, and how do you think I was
awoke? By a strong sense of suffocation,
and up I sprang, coughing and nearly chok
.ed,surrounded with smoke. Some mischiev
ous boys perceiving that I was fast asleep,
had set fire to my matches, as I held them
in my hand between my legs, and I did not
awake until my.fingers were severely burnt.
There was an end of my speculation in
matches, because there was an end of all my
capital."
"My poor Ttmothy,l really fearer you."
"Not at all, my dear Japhet; I never, in
all my distress, Was sentenced to execution
—my miseries were trifles, to be laughed
at. However, I felt very miserable at the
time, and walked off, thinking about the
I propriety of getting into gaol as soon as I
could, for the beggar had strongly recom
mended it. I was at the outskirts of the
town, when I perceived two men tussling
with one another,and I walked towards them.
"I say," says one, who appeared to be a con
stable; "you must come along with me.—
Don't you see that ere board? A ll wagrants
shall be taken up, and dealt with according
to In." "Now may the devil hold you in
his claws, you old psalm-Singing thief—an't
I a sailor—and an't I a wagrant by profes
sion, and all according to law?" "That won't
do," says the other; "I commands you in
the king's name,to let me take you to prison,
and I commands you also, young man," says
he—for I had walked ut► to them—"l com
mands you, as a lawful subject to assist me."
"W lint will you give the poor follow for his
trouble," said the sailor? "It's his duty, as a
la wild sobject, and I'll give him not hino; but
I'll put him in prison if he don't. "Then
you old Rhinoceros, I'll give him five shil
lings if he'll help me, and so now he may
take his choice." At all events, thought I,
this will turn nut lucky one way or the oth
er; but I will support the man who is most
generous; RO I went up to the constable, who
was a burly sort of fellow, and I ripped up
his heels, and down he came on the back of
his head. You know my old trick, Japhet?"
"Yes; and I never knew you fail at that.
"Well, the sailor says to me, "I've a no
tion you've dama : , ed his upper works, so let
us start ,ifr, and clap on all sail for the next
town. I know where to drop my anchor.
Come along with ore, and as long as I've a
shot in the locker, d—n me if I won't share
it with one who has proved a friend in need."
The constable did not come to his senses,
he was very much stunned: but we loosened
his neckcloth, and left him there, and started
off es fast as we could. My new companion
who had a wooden leg, stopped by a gate
and clambered over it. "We must lose no
time, said he; "and I may just as well have
the benefit of both legs." So raving, he
took off his wooden stump, and let down his
real leg, which was fixed up just as you saw
mine. I made no comments, hut off - we set,
and at a good round pace gained a village
about five miles distant. "Mere we will put
up for the night; but they will look for us
to-morrow at daylight or a little after, there
fore we must be starting early. I know the
law beggars well, they wont turn out aforo
sunrise. lie stopped at a paltry ale-house,
where we were admit ted,and soon were busy
with a much better supper than I had ever
imagined they could have produced; butt my
new friend ordered right and lefl,with a tone
of authority, and• every body in the house
appeared at his beck and command. A fter
a couple of glasses of grog, we retired to
bed
"The next morning we started before
break of day, on our read to another town,
where my companion said, the constable
wculd never take the trouble to come after
him. On our way he questioned me as to
my mode of getting my livelihood, and I
narrated how unfortunate I had been. "One
good turn deserves mother," replied the sai
lor; "and now I'll set you up in trade. Can
you sing? Have you any thing of a voice?"
"I can't say that I have," replied I. "I don't
mean whether you can sing in tune or have
a good voice, that's no consequence; all I
want to know is, have you a good loud one?"
"Loud enough, if that's all." "That's all
that's requisite; so long as you can make
yourself heard--you may then howl like a
Jackall, or bellow like a mad buffido,no mat
ter which—as many pay us for to get rid of
us, as out of charity; and so Inn;• as the mo
ney comes, what's the odds? Why, I once
knew an old chap, who could only play one
tune On a clarionet, and that tune out of all
tune, who made his fortune in six or seven
streets, for every one gave hiin money, and
told him to go away. When he found out
that, he came every morning as regular as
clock-work. Now there was one of the
streets which was chiefly occupied by music
sellers and Italian singers—for them foreign
ers always herd together—and this tune.
"which the old cow died of," as the saying
is, used to be their horror, and out came the
half-pence to send him away. There was
a sort of club also in that street, of larking
sort of young men, and when they perceived
that the others gave the old man money to
get rid of his squeaking, they sent him out
money,with orders to stay and play to them,
so then the others sent nut more for him to
go away, and between the two, the old fel-
low brought home more money than all the
eadgers arid mumpers in the district. Now
if you have a loud voice, I can provide you
with all the rest." "Do you gain your live
lihood by that?" "To he sure I do; and I
can tell you, that of all the trades going,
there is none equal to it. You see, my hear
ty, I have been on board of a man of war—
not that I'm a sailor, or was ever bred to
the sea—but I was shipped as a landsman,
and did duty in the waist and afierguard.
I know little or nothing of my duty As a sea
men, nor was it required in the station 1 was
in, so I never learnt, although I was four
years on board; all 1 learnt was the lingo
and slang—and that you must contrive to
learn from me. I bolted, and made my way
good to Lunnun, but I should soon have been
picked up , and put on board the Tender tt
go in,if I hadn't got this wooden stump made,
which I now carry in my hand, I had plen
ty ofsongs, and I commenced my profession,
and a real good un it is, I can tell you.—
Why, do you know, that a'ter a good victo
ry, I have sometimes picked up as much as
B 7 Ronmr.s. wzzirE mannzarroN, EDITOR, run:atm-am AND PROPRIETOR.
" I WISH NO OTHER HERALD, NO OTHER SPEAKER OF MY 'Lamm ACTIONS, TO KEEP MINE HONOR FROM CORRUPTION•"—SHAKE
caa2l4'.zaz:lrmeh JZO Si`altx 2.)EttaLuaatam ?aa aaaa.
Mr. Cophagus brought up the subject when
we were alone. He commenced by stating
how happy he had been as a married man,
that he had given up all hopes of a family,
and that he should like to see Susannah
he might leave his property to her children;
and then he put the very pertinent quegiion
"Japhet—verily--thou hast done well
good business 7 —money coming in fast—set
tle, Japhet—marry—and have children
and so on. Susannah—nice girl—good wife
—popquestion—all right—sly puss—won't
say no—urn—what d'ye oay?—and so on."
I replied, that I was very much attached to
Susannah, but that I was afraid that the at.
tachment was not mutual,und therefore hes-
itated to propose. Cophagus then said that
he would make his wife sound his sister,
and let me know the result.
This was in the morning just before I was
about to walk over to the shop,and I left the
house in a state of anxiety and suspense.
When I arrived at the shop, I found Tim
there as usual; but the color of his face was
heightened as he said to me, "Read •this,
Japhet," and handed to me the "Reading
Mercury." I read the advertisement as
follows:
"IfJaphet Newland; who was left at the
Foundling Asyium, and afterwards was for
some time in London, will call at No. 16,
Thmgmorton Court, Minories, he will hear
of something very much to his'advantnge,
and will discover that of which he has been
so long in search. Should this reach his
eye, he is requeited to write immediately
to the above address, with lull particulars of
his situation. Should any one who reade
two pounds a day, for weeks running; as it
is,l averngesfrom fifteen shillings to a pound.
Now, as you helped me away from that land
shark, who would soon have found out that
I had two legs, and have put me into limbo
as an impostor, I will teach you to am your
livelihood after my fashion. You shall work
with me until you are fit to start alone, and
then there's plenty of room in England for
both of us; but mind, never tell any one what
you pick up, or every mumper in the island
will put on a suit of sailor's clothes, and the
thing will be blown upon."
"Ofcourse, this was too good an offer to
be rejected.and I joyfully acceded. At first,
I worked with him as having only one arm,
the other being tied down to my side, and
and my jacket sleeve hinging loose and
empty, and we roared away right and left,
so as to bring down a shower of coppers
wherever we went. In about three weeks
my friend thought I was able to start by
myself, and giving me half of the ballads,
and five shinn's to start with, I shook
hands and parted with, next to you, thekst
friend that I certainly ever had. Ever sWoe
I have been crossing the country in every
direction,with plenty of money in my pock•
et, and always with one eye looking shaip
out for you. My beautiful voice fortunately
attracted your attention, and here 1 am,nnd
at art end of my history; but if ever I am
away from you.and in distress again, depend
upon it I shall take to my wooden leg and
ballads for my support."
Such were the adventures of Timothy,
who was metamorphosed into a precise
Quaker. "I do not like the idea of your
taking up a system of deceit, Timothy. It
may so happen—for who knows what may
occur?—that you may again be thrown up
on your own resources. Now would it not
be better that you should obtain a more in•
innate knowledge of the profession which
we are now in, which is liberal, and equally
profitable? By attention and study, you will
be able to dispense medicines and make up
prescriptions as well as myself, and who
knows but that some day you may be the
owner of a shop like this?"
"Verily, verily, thy words do savour of
much wisdom,' replied Tim, in a grave
voice; ''and 1 will even so follow thy advice.'
I knew that he was mocking me in this
reply, but I paid no attention to that; I was
satisfied that be consented. I now made
him assist me, and under my directions lie
made up the prescriptions. I explained to
him the nature of every mediCine; and I
made him read many yoks of physic and
surgery. In short,afler two or three months
I could trust to Timothy as well as if I were
in the shop myself; and having an errand
boy, I had much leisure, and I left him in
charge after dinner. The business prosper
ed,and I was laying up money. My leisure
time, I hardly need say, was spent with Mr.
Cophagus and his family, and my attach
mnnt to Susannah Temple increased every
day. Indeed, both Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus
considered that it was to he a rnatch,and of
ten joked wi•li ire when Susannah was no
present. With respect to Susannah,' coup
not perceive that I was farther advanced it
her afii!ctions than after I had known he
two months. She was always kind and cot
siderate,evidently interested in my welfare,
always checking in me any thing like levi
ty—frank and confiding in her opinions—
and charitable to all, as I thought, except to
me. But I made no advance that I could
perceive. The fact was,that I dared not to
speak to her as I might have done to another
who was not so perfect. And yet she smiled
as I thought, more kindly when I returned
than at other times, and never appeared to
be tired of my company. 111 did sometimes
mention the marriage of another, or alien
tions paid which would,in all probabilty,end
in marriage,it would create no contusion or
blushing on her part—she would talk over
that subject as composedly as any other. 1
was puzzled, and I had been fifteen months
constantly in her company, and had never
dared to tell her I loved her. But one day
remple,his sister-in-law, well married, tha
this be able to give any information relative
(to the said J. N., he will be liberally re
,, warded."
1 sank 'down on the chair. "Merciful
Reaven! this can be no mistake—"he will
discover the object of his search." Timo
thy, my dear Timothy, I have at last found
out my father."
"So I should imagine, my dear Japhet,"
replied Timothy, "and 1 trust it will not
prove a disappointment."
"They never would be so cruel, Timo
thy," replied 1.
"But still it is evident that Mr. Masterton
is concerned in it," observed Timothy.
"Why so?" enquired 1.
"How other wise should it appear in the
Reading newspapers? He must have exam•
rued the post-mark or my letter."
To explain this, I must remind the reader
that Timothy had promised to write to Mr.
Masterton when he found me; and he re.
ques'ed my permission shortly after we had
met again. I consented to his keeping his
word, but restricted him to saying any more
than "that lie had found me, and that I was
well and happy." There was no address
in the letter as a clue to Mr. Masterton as
to where I might be, and it could only have
been from the post mark that be could have
formed any idea. Timothy's surmise was
therefore very probable; but I would Mt
believe that Mr. Masterton would consent
to the insertion of that portion of the adver
tisement, if there was no foundation for it.
"What will you do, Japhet?"
"Do," replied I, recovering from my re•
verie, for the information had again roused
tip all my dormant feelings—"Do," replied
"why, I shall set off for town this very
morning."
"In that dress, Japhet!"
"1 suppose I must," replied I, "for I have
no time to procure another;" and all my
former ideas of fashion and appearance were
roused, and in full activity—my pride re
covered its ascendency.
"Well," replied Timothy, "I hope you
will find your father all that you could wish."
"I'm sure of it. Titn-I'm sure of it,"re
plied I; "you must run and take a place in
the first coach."
"But you are not going without seeing
Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, and—Miss
Temple," continued Tim, laying an empha
sis upon the latter name.
"01course not," replied T,colouring deep
ly. "1 will goat once. Give the the news.
paper, Tim,"
I took the newspaper, and hastened to
the house of Mr. Cophagus. I found them
all three sitting in the breakfast parlor, Mr.
Cophagus, as usual, reading, with his spec
tacles on his nose, and the ladies nt work.
"What is the matter, friend Japhet!" ex
claimed Mr. Conhagus, as I burst into the
room, my countenance lighted up with ex
citement. "Read that, sir!" said I to Mr.
Cophagus. Mr. Cophagus read it. "Hum
—bad news—lose Japhet—man of fashion
—and so on," said Cophagus, pointing out
the paragraph to his wife, as he handed over
the paper.
In the mean!ime I watched the counts
nonce of Susannah—a slight emotion, but
instantly checked, was visible at Mr. Coph
agns's remark. She then remained quiet'
until her sister,who had rearf the paragraph,
handed the paper to her. "I give thee joy,
Japhet, at the prospect of finding out thy
parent," said Mrs. Cophagus. "1 trust thou
wilt find in him one who is to be esteemed
as a man. When departest thou?"
"Immediately." replied I.
"I cannot blame thee—the ties of nature
are ever powerful. I trust that thou wilt
write to us, and that we soon shall see thee
return"
•
"Yes, yes," said Cophagus, "see father
—shake hands--come back—heh!—settle
here—and soon."
"I shall not be altogether my own mas
ter, perhaps," observed I. '•lf my father
deNires that I remain with him, must tilt I
obey? But I know nothing at present. You
shall hear from me. Timothy can take
my place in the I could not bear
the idea oldie word shop, and I stopped.—
Susannah, for the first time, looked me earn
estly in the ftce, but she said nothing. Mr. '
and M rs. Cophagus, who probably had been
talking over the subject of our conversation,
and thought this a good opportunity to allow
me to have an eclaircissement with Susan.
nah, left the room, saying they would look
after my portmanteau and linen. "Susan.
nah," said I, "you do not appear to rejoice
with me."
"Japhet Newland, I will rejoice at every
hing which may tend to thy happiness, be•
sieve me; but I do not feel assured but that
this trial may prove too great, and that thou
mayest fall away. Indeed, I perceive even
now that thou art excited with new ideas,
and visions of pride."
"11l am wrong, forgive me. Susannah.
you must know that the whole object of my
existence has been to find my lather; and
now that 1 have every reason to suppose
that my wish is obtained, can you be sur
prised, or can you blame me, that I long to
be pressed in his arms?"
Japhet, for that filial feeling I do
commend thee; but ask thy own heart, is
that the only feeling which now exciteth
thee? Dost thou not expect to find thy father
one high in rank and power? Dust thou not
anticipate to join once more the world which
thou host quitted, yet .still hest sighed 'for?
Dost thou not already feel contempt for thy
honest profession:—nay, more, dost• thou
nut only long to cast off the plain attrre,and
not only the attire, but, the sect which in
thy adversity thou didat embrace the tenets
of ? Ask thy own heart, and reply if thou
wilt, but I press thee not so to do; fir the
truth would be painful, and a lie, thou know
est, I do utterly abhor."
I felt that Susannah spoke the truth, and
I would not deny it. I sat down by her.—
"Susannah," said I, "it is not very easy to
change at once. I have mixed for years in
the world, with you I have been hut a few
months. I will not deny but that the feel.
logs you• have expressed have risen in my
heart, but I will try to repress them; at
least, for your sake, Susannah, I would try
to repress them, for I value your opinion
more than that of the whole world. You
have the power to do with me as you please:
—will you exert that power?"
"Answer me, Japhet," replied Susannah.
"The faith which is not built upon a more
solid foundation than to win the favor of an
erring being like myself is hut weak; that
power over thee which thou expectest will
fix thee in the right path, may soon be lost,
and what is then to direct thee? If no purer
motives than earthly atreetion are to be thy
stay, most surely thou wilt NI. • But no
more of this; thou bast a duty to perform,
which is to go to thy earl Illy father, and seek
his blessing. Nay more, I would that thou
shouldest once more enter into the world;
there thou mayest decide. Shouldest thou
return to us, thy friends will rejoice, and not
one n! them will he more joyful than Susan
nah Temple. Fare thee well, Japhet,may
est thou prove superior to temptation.
will pray for thee--earnestly I will pray for
thee, Japhet," continued Susannah, Vith a
quivering of her lips and broken voice, and
she left the room.
I wont up stairs and fimnd all was ready, and I
took leave of Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, both of
whom expressed their hopes that I would not leave
them litrever. "Oh, no," replied I; "I should be
base if I did." 1 left them, and with Ephraim
following with my portmanteau, 1 quitted the
house. I had gone about twenty yards when I
recollected that I had left on the table the news
paper with the direction whom to apply to in the
advertisement, and desiring Ephraim to proceed, '
I returned back. When I entered the parlor, Su
sannah Temple was resting her face in her hands
and weeping bitterly. • The opening of the door
made her start up; she perceived that it was me,
and turned away. "1 beg your pardon, I left the
newspaper," said I stammering. I was about to
throw - myself at her teat, declare my sincere af.
fection, and give up all idea of finding my father
until we wore married, when she, without saying
a word, passed quickly by n.o and hastened out
of the room. "She loves me then," thought I;
"thank God:—l will not go yet, I will speak to
her first." I sat down, quite overpowered with
contending feelings. The paper was;in my band,
the paragraph was again road, and I thought but
of my father.
In half an hour I had shaken hands with Tim.
othy and quitted the town of Reading. How I
arrived in London, that is to say, what passed or
what we peered, I know not; my mind was in
such a state of excitement. It was a sort of
mental whirling which blinded me—round and
round—from my father and expected meeting,then
to Susannah, my departure and her tears—castle
building of every description. After the coach
stopped there I remained fixed on the top of it,not
aware that we were in London until the coach
man asked me whether the spirit did not move me
to got down. I recollected myself; and culling a
hackney coach, gave orders to be driven to the
Piazza, Covent Garden.
"Piazza, Common Garden," said the waterman,
"why that han't an 'otel for the like o' you, mas
ter. They'll torment you to death, them young
chaps."
[TO ft,: CONTINUED.]
VARIE'rY.
For tho Stur & Banner
At a meeting of "The Mountjoy Tempe•
ranee Society," held nn the 28th day of No.
vember, 1835, the following Resolutions
were unanimously adopted.
Resolved, That the sale of intoxicating
drinks, in our houses of public entertain
ment, is a public nuisance which ought to be
abated without delay.
Resolved, That the members of this So•
ciety will apply, by petition, to the Legisla
ture of the Commonwealth, for the passage
of a law prohibiting the sale of intoxicating
drinks in our houses of public entertainment.
Resolved, That the .members of this So
ciety•do hereby respectfully solicit the co
operation of their fellow-citizens in the said
application to the Legislature.
Resolved, That the Chair appoint a com
mittee of three members whose duty it shall
be to circulate the petition of the members
of this Society among their fellow-citizens
as extensively as may be practicable.
Resolved, That the said committee make
report at the next mot:Wily meeting of the
Society.
Resolved, That these Resolutions, signed
by the President and attested by the Secre
tary, he published in the "Sentinel," "Com
piler," "Star" and "Press."
JAMES M'A GLISTER, Pres'i.
Hezekiah Houghtclin, Jr. Sec'ry pro tem.
TEMPERANCE IN LONDON. -II i 8 calcula
ted that there are, in the metropolis, up-
wards of 100,000 confirmed dram•drinkers,
who drink, on an average, two glasses of
spirits pe• day. This, at rid per glass,
makes £1 250 daily spent in drams, a
mounting annually to the enormous sum of
£156,250.
IMPORTANT OPERATION. -ft
is generally understood than an 'accumula
tion of water on the braip is fatal to the pa
tient. Children thus affected are supposed
to be incurable- The St.- John's Gazette,
however, mentions a case of a successful
surgical operation on a patient suffering un
der this disease by Doctors Bayard and Liv.
ingstone. The patient was a ,chill four
months old. The operation was performed
an the 9th inst.; upwards ofa pint Ilirnpid
water was discharged from the brain. The
[WHOLE NO. 299.
Gazette says—it is now ten days since the
operation, and the child is doing well, even
beyond the most sanguine expectations, and
the countenance is fast resuming . a natural
appearance. Before the operation,the eyes
and featuref were much distorted, in conse
quence of the pressure of the water on the
brain.—Alex. Gaz.
ANOTHER BRUTAL MURDER IN
We learn from the Cincinnati Whig, that
on Friday the 26th ult. (the day on which
Cowan was executed in Cincmati for mut
dermg his wife) a man by the name of Cur.
tess,residing about two miles above Batavia,
in Clerment county, made a most brutal at
tack upon his wife with a butcher's knife,
cutting her a rms in deep gashes and ntabbing
her in the abdomen, and then threw her up
on the fire, from which he had just crawled,
as the neighbours, attracted by her screams,
came to her assistance. The fiend of a
husband was soon after arrested, and coin
mined to jail. The wife was not dead at
the last accounts, but no hope was entertain
ed of her recovery. It is stated that-Cur
less made this attack on his wife, because
she would not promise him, not to marry a
a second time, in the event of his dying be
fore her. He is represented to be a temper
ate man, and quite wealthy.
The following beautiful extract is taken
from the "Tates of a Physician," a work
recently republished in this country:
"There is scarcely a profession in which
the sympathies of its professors are mom
painfully excited than that of the medical
practitioner. How often is he called to the
bed of hopeless sickne s; and (hat, too, in a
family, the members of which are drawn
together by the closest bonds of love! How
painful is it to meet the inquiries & gaze of
attached friends, or weeping relatives, di
rected towards him in quest of that conici=
!anon, that assurance of safety, which he
has not to give! and how melancholy is it to
behold the last ray of hope, which had lin
gered upon the (lice of affection, giving place
to the dark cloud of despair.
And when all is over; when the bitterness
of death bath passed from the dead to life
living; from the departed to the bereaved;
hark to that shriek of agony, that convulsive
sob, that bitter groan,wrung from the heart's
score, which bespeaks the utter prostration
of the spirit beneath the blow!
There, cold in the embrace of death, lies
the honored husband of a heart-broken wife;
her first, her only love!• Or, it may be, the
young wife of a distracted husband,the bride
of a year, the mother of an hour, and by
her, perhaps, the blighted fruit of their love
—the bud by the blossom, and both are
withered!"
THE INCURABLE.
"Now doctor! don't you think lam on
the mending hand—and doctor!—mayn't
go out soon!"
"No! I say! unless you shut up that
mouth of yours!"
"Why doctor, I feel considerably better
—and doctor, 1 ate a mince pie this mores
ing."
"What! mince devil, madam."
"Why, doctor! I kinder hankered arter
it; and you said, doctor, when . I felt as tho'
I could take a leetle something that was
nice, and light, I might just smell of it and
kinder taste it, doctor."
"And so you eat a mince pier
"Yes! doctor!—and a leetle castard—a
very leetle."
"It's a wonder, madam, if you don't die
after it! Why didn't you swallow a pound
of bullets!"
"Why, doctor! a physician once told me
always to eat, when I felt an appe tite"—
"Shut up! shut up! madam? What do I
care for your physician!"
"W hy, would you really advise me to say
nothing at all doctor? It does me so much
good to talk!"
"Good! it will be the-death of you yet."
"Why, I must say, I should hate terribly,
doctor, to have the lock jaw!"
"Uniphl you'd be sure to talk in your
sleep!—come shut up!"
"Why now there's DrNl3--, who can
cure any thing. He'd leNroe eat mince
pies! don't you think, doctor, a little balm
or catnip tea taken externally would take
the oppression off my stomach—ahl dear
doctor, dont von know! Shall I call in Dr.
—to advise with you. He can cure any
thing!"
'.There's one thing he can't cure. Übe
can, l say send for him madam!"
“What! pray what is it, dear doctor! I
want to know!”
"He can't make a blister, that will pre
vent your everlasting tongue from click—r
click--clacking! Good day, madam!"
"Yes he cant—come back, doctor, he's a
master hand at sewing up things with a
needle and thread."
"Then send for him. It's past my cure.
Good day, madam."
"Another mince pie, Sokey! Oh! dear
I'm trotting off in a rapid consumption."
• REPARTEE.-A lady in Beston,sometime
since, having cut an advertisement out of a
newspaper with an intention to send it to
the printer for further information, pinned
it open her gown. A gentleman, to wheni
she was, partial, observing that it began.,
with "To let," asked "at what price, magd...: ( .". 4 '
sea" She looked at the piece and pereele•
ing his drift, replied, "At the price error
hand, sir."