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TDB GARLAND
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—"With sweetest flotverioarioh'd,
From various gardens culi'd with care."
TILE FORSAKEN AND THE FALSE ONE
DT T 1103148 UATNES DAILET.
I dare thee to forgot mo I
. Go wander where thou wilt—
Thy hand upon the vessel's holm,
Oi on the sabre's hilt.
Away 2 thou'rt freed o'er land and sea ;
Go, rush to danger's brink !
But, oh ! thou ean'st not fly from thought ;
Thy curse will bo—to think
Remember me—remember all
My long enduring love I
That link'd itself to perfidy,
The vulture and the dove !
Remember, in thy utmost need,
I never once did shrink;
But clung to thee confidingly I
Thy curse shrill be—to Mink !
Then go ! that thought shai::emler thee -
A dastard in the fight, •
That thought, when thou art tempest torn,
Will fill thee with affright I
In some wild dungeon may'st thou die,
And counting each cold link
That binds thee to captivity ;
Thy curse shall bo—to think
Go seek the merry banquet hall,
Whore younger maidens bloom,
The thought of me shall make thee there
Endure a deeper gloom !
Tharthought shall turn the festive cup
To poison while you drink,
And while false smiles are on thy cheek,
Thy curse will be—to think
Forget me, false ono ! Hope it not !
When minstrels touch the string,
The memory of other days
Will gall thee while they sing;
The airs I used to love, will make
Thy coward conscience shrink !
Ayo, every note will have its sting !
Thy curse will be—to Mink !
Forget me ! No—that shall not bo !
I'll haunt thee in thy sleep ;
In dreams thoult cling to slimy rocks,
That overhang the deep ;
Thoul't shriek for aid ! my feeble arm
Shall hurl then from the brink,
And when thou wak . st in wild dismay,
Thy curse will be—to Mink
al&lk1M01/tDo
o Hartford Courant.
HE RESCUED CAPTIVE
ALI OL
ef r TALL OP INDIAN WAIIPAIIE.
•In o o the pleasantest villages of Con
necticut, shortly previous to the Revolution
ary War, a gentleman of fortune resided
with his two daughters ; the eldest of whom
had reached her 14th, and the youngest her
10th year. Mr. St. Clare had left Eng
land with his wife and eldest child, but of
ter the birth of the little Alice, the - . mother
died and left him desolate. He had no
friends in this new land, none to care for
but his children, while many near and dear
to him at home, were urging his return to
Thus, with the thought of his inabi
rlity to educate or p rocure proper teachers
for his children, induced him to comply
with his friends' request. He had accor
dingly made his ai rangements for spending
several years in England, hoping eventual
ly to return to a home which he had farm
ed and beautified, and which, fur the'sake
of her who was laid there, was very dear to
him.
It was but a few evenings previous to the
time when they were to set out for Boston,
from whence the ship in %illicit their pas
sage was already taken was to sail, when
little Alice complained of unusual weariness
and languor. Her elder sister, Margaret,
advised that she should go to bed, 'although
it was still very early in the evening. This
';advice was joined In by the nurse, who pre
.
veiled upon the little girl to retire ; and what
was still very singular, she had nut yet left
the sleeping apartment ere the child was a
sleep. The apartment occupied by Alice
joined that of her sister Margaret, who re
tired
several hours afler. Feeling too wea
ry to kiss her sister good night, us usual !
she hastily undressed, and throwing hersol
upon the bed, fell asleep, nor did she - waken
till the morning sun shone full upon her
face. "Strange," thought she„"that the
early Afire has not wakened me etc this,
when she retired so early, too I" Saying
this, she sprang from her bed, and tripped
lightly into her sister's room, but Alice was
not there. "Ah l she passed through my
room, then, and left me undisturbed I" ex
claimed Margaret, "but 1, will soon find
her !" She then dressrd herself, and ran
gaily in search of her sister, but Alice was
no whore to be found. Where could she
be 7 She was not wont to leave the grounds
at such an hour. Margaret returned to the
house and found her father asking for his
'daughters. She questioned hint—he had
not seen Alice. The nurse was called—
she did not see her young lady since the
night before. Each domestic was ques
tioned, but none could answer. Alarm was
spread upon every countenance, and they
simultaneously exclaimed, "Where is the
Indian ?" "Where is Ceneco None
could answer; Ceneco, too, was missing.
The father was filled with anguish.—
Ceneco was an Indian boy who had lived
with them for a few months as a servant,
and wild and untamed he seemed as one of
the 'wild beasts of the forest; but like them
he appeared to have been won by kindness.
But Ceneco had sworn revenge for the
wrongs of his tribe, and the wiley Indian
knew that nothing could wound the father's
heart like parting with his child. Ceneco
then had administered (so the nurse surmr
sod) the drug which had caused the deep
sleep into which Alice had fallen, the better
to accomplish his purpose. The window
of her room was open.
It is needless to say that the contempla
ted journey to England was abandoned, and
, all that human power could do, was done to
! recover the lost treasure, but in vain. The
father was borne down with grief, and Nlar
garet, who had almost idolized her sister,
Ind lost her elastic step, and her formerly
happy and cheerful face wore an expression
of sadness.
More than a year had passed, and noth
ing was heard of the darling or their hearts.
The nurse, Mrs. Honor, could not bear the
idea of tearing herself away from the spot
where there was the smallest hope of hear
ing aught in regard to the fate of little A
lice. But Margaret was equally dear to
her, and she was convinced that she needed
more than ever the voyage, which had !?t.z. - il
postponed to an indefinite period. She
notated out to Mr. St. Clare her fading
.
che,„,,; and sunken eye, so unea!ural in ex
treme youth ! and by her simple eloquence
convinced him f:fthe necessity of following
her advice. Margaret was unwilling at
first to think of leaving home, but the en
treaties of her father and nurse caused her
to yield, and the voyage was determined
upon.
With heavy hearts the rather and daugh
ter departed on their journey to Boston, ac.
companiod by the nurse. They embarked,
and arrived with safely at Liverpool, slier
a short but prosperous voyage. At "Ash
ton Hill," a country seat, remote from the
confusion of city life, resided the only re
maining sister of Mr. St. Clare. Under
her cure, Margaret felt happier than she
had done for many months before. Mr. St.
Clare, during his stay in England. had di
vided his time between his mister and wife's
brother, who resided in the vicinity of Lon
don. Three years had passed, and he be.
can to talk of his return to America, at
least for a short period. Margaret, he
thought, would willingly remain with lier
aunt, and he would soon return to her, per
haps, to gladden her heart with tidings of
her long lost sister.
For the purpose of bidding hie brother.
in law, Mr. Clifton, adieu, Mr. St. Clare
visited London. He felt regret at leaving
his friends again, and lingered from day to
day. The day before the one at last fixed
fir his departure, Mr. Clifton had invited a
party of gentlemen to dine, 'anion whom,
as the visitor 'of one of his guest., was a
yoong gentleman, but just, arrived from A
merica. From compliment to him the con
versation turned on North America,among
the savages of which wild country he said
he had met with a remarkable and interest
ing adventure. The company urged him
to relate it, which he did in the following
words. "I went," said Mr. Anthorp, "a
short time before sailing for England, on a
hunting expedition, with a large party of
companions. One day, weary and in wont
of food, for we had killed little game. we
chanced upon an encampment of friendly
Indians, which, however, consisted only of
squaws, as the men hod gone off to the
chase. The women provided us with food,
and, after eating, I thought, to satisfy my
curiosity, that I would examine one of the
curious wigwams which surrounded us.—
What was my surprise to see aented - on n
mat, a little girl, fair as the meat English
eye could wish. She was weaving baskets,
and humming in a low tone an English air.
She started on seeing me, and uttering a cry
sprang forward—
"Her name! tel me her name l" cried
r. St. Clare, starting from his chair.
"They called her 'the white dove,' " an*
swered Apthorp, "but she said her name
was—"
"Alice St. Clare. 7"
"The same."
"My child ! my child !" exclaimed Mr.
St. Clara—he clasped his hands, and sank
poslierless to hit seat.
Alice St. Clair," continued Mr. Ap
thorp, in reply to the hurried questions of
those presrnt, "Alice St. Clare told me with
many tears the story of her capture by an
Indian mrvant of her father'a, acid begged
• C. 77./1/37Z:11\TVZON 801X77.111, MIDITOR &.PROPZ,IETOP..
4, The liberty to know, to utter, and to argue, freely, is above all other liberties.lP-51n:ron
ean - eutrtamw2o. 2P2a.0. zuzcocwzDazre 4/QaQPPUP47I/27 EIV 9 aatto.
me to take her home. Sho had been taken
from her first foes in battle .by the tribe
with whom I found her ; but though they
treated her kindly, she was not happy, but
longed to return to her father and sister.—
The squaws could not resist us, and we
brought klico away. At her father's
house we learned of his voyage to England,
and hoping to find him, wo at once set sail.
Meanwhile, I have placed my protege with
an excellent governess in the country, and
as I seo Mr. Clifton has called a coach, I
will at once lead this anxious father to hia
child."
Mr. St. Clare had,by this time regained
his composure, and grasping Mr. Apthorp's
I hand with a look of gratitude, ho besought
him to make no delay. It was early morn•
log when the coach which contained Mr.
St. Clare and Apthorp, arrived at the vil
lage orSouthwick. They alighted at the
inn, and hastened on foot to the cottage of
Mrs. \Tillers, the lady under.whose care A
lice was placed. She was a middle aged
woman, of dignified but very pleasing tip
pearanee, and expressed a groat interest
in her young pupil. Mr. St. Care was
much agitated, but she would not per
mit him to see his child without gently re
minding him that she had been for several
years among savages, and had consequent.
ly lost much of the polish of civilized life.
In short, he must not expect to see her the
same that he had lost.
"Only tell me if she remembers her rath
er I" exclaimed Mr. St. Clare; "only let me
see my child, and we will lorget her misfor
tunes in the joy of meeting." They met !
The father and the long lest daughter were
clasped in a close embrace. -- "This scene,
which no language could paint, can be ea
sily imagined. A pthorpaind Mrs. Villars
had withdrawn, but the father sought them
in the garden, and earnestly entreated them
to return with them to Ashton twill:. "For
Alice," said he, "I cannot think of parting,
her from a Indy to whom she is'already so
much attached; I must entreat Mrs. Villars
to continue her care over my little mother.
less girl."
As he spoke, he looked with tenderness
upon his child, who stood meekly by his
side, holding his hand in both of hers, and
gazing with earnestness into his face. Ap
thorp, more than interested in the engaging
child. a once consented to her father's re•
quest, and the whole party were soon on
the road to Ashton Hill.
Months had passed, yet still the same
parties tarried ' , Merry England." Mar
i garet St. Clare had regained her health and
; and Alice, her devoted companion,
had improved r..cnderfully, and was the joy
of her father's heart. They returned to
America, accompanied by Mr. Apthorp,
who was shortly rifler united by marriage
to the lovely sister of little Alice, whom he
so fortunately rescued from Indian eaptivi•
ty. The treacherous Censer), who had ad.
ministered an anodyne to Alice to facilitate
his revengeful purpose, was never heard of.
During the time of war and danger, "Oak-
wood" WdS forsaken for the greater securi
ty of a city, but when the States of North
America were declared free from the yoke
of Geeat Britain,,tho united families ofSt.
Clare and Apthorp, returned to a tranquil
home in the bosom of Connecticut.
The following lines wore sent by a young
lady to her lover, whose name was Nett, a
few weeks before their marriage. The
nuptial knot was tied immediately upon the
discerning lover's deciphering their import :
Why urge, dear Sir, a bashful maid
To change her single lot,
Whim, well you know, I've often said,
In truth I love you, Not 'I
For ell your pains I do, Nott, care,
And turat me on my life,
Though you had millions, rdeclare,
I would, Nott, be your wife !
The following fact was given us, on the best
authority, as related by an old Veirhont farmer,
who, for many years past, has been monarch of
an extensive farm, situated among the glens of
the Green Mountains. Here is the original from
his own mouth:—
"I'd noticed for a long time, that some
thing or other had played the old Harry in
my cornfield, destroying more corn than
my faMily could make way with the whole
year. Well, I laid it to the 'coons for a
while—but I soon came to the conclusion
that all the coons in God'o creation could'nt
eat up and break down so mach corn, as
was every day the case. So I entered all
the damages on my accoant book, against
some lawless bear, or bears, unknown—be
ing determined to have a settlement with
the scamp, or scamps, as soon as possible.
Ono night, in the early part of winter, a
light snow fell ; and in the morning I saw a
little the biggest bear tracks, round my
barn that ever you did see—some were big
ger than the top of my hat, and some were
smaller,--looked like young ones. I fol
lowed the Swindlers a good way up the
mountains several mornings, and found that
they passed between two rocks right under
a high ledge. Now, thinks Ito mySelf,
I'll have one on ye before long, as sure as
my 'name is Dan Goodrich. So I borrowed
of one of my neighbors a joe-fired big steel
trap, and sot it exactly between them two
rocks. Going out to fodder the cattle the
next day, I discovered that fresh tracks had
been made froni my barn yard up to the
mountain. I cut oft; full split, to see what
the big trap had got for breakfast—never
once suspecting that the old bear would be
such a fool as to get caught—but expected
A MONSTROUS riEAR STORY.
to find nothing more than a cub, at most.—
I crept along towards the top of the ledge,
hoping to draw a smashing prize ; but, as I
said before, I could'nt, for the life of me,
suppose that it would be my luck to catch
a black monster of 600 pounds weight.—
Well, I ventured to take .a peep over the
rocks, and, would you believe it, instead of
catching a little silly cub, I beheld, to my
everlasting astonishment the trap with—
nothing at all in it ! •
The following eloquent passage, descri
bing the progress of Christianity throughout
the world, will be read with interest at the
festal season:
Christianity herself moves in advance of
her own civilization; and does not wait the
tardy operation of philosophical eausei.—
Conscious of her power over universal man,
that she holds the world's destiny in her
hands she has undertaken, as a specific ob
ject, and as her own proper work, the rec
lamation—not of provinces or of continents,
but of all nations;—all the millions of hu
manity. Possessed by this august idea,-=
an idea infinitely surpassing, in the grand
cur of its conception, every project of am
bition, every dream of universal empire,—
she hus surveyed the enterprise from all its
points.
She has marked out with an astonishing
boldness and percision her plan of operations
and moves to its execution with a fixed and
steady eye; with boundless energy, and in
extinguishable faith. Already she is in oe
cupatimi•ofthe state of power in every divi
sion the glohe,and to its swarming.
rnultitCeSm two hundred languages of the
many tongued earth: In Africa, ahe:has
taken Oiler line of po - Sitions from Cape Pal
mas to Port Natal and in Asia, from ton
stantinnple to Ceylon, and throws a belt of
moral light like a galaxy over either conti
nent. Elie has touched the icon seeptres el
Aranrna and Maimed, and they crumble
Isom their hands like ashes. She gattiers
her school on the Acropolis of Athens, and
works her printing presses under the shad
ow of the Pyramids. She has kindled her
lights among the islands of the Southern and
Pacific oceans; and the Polynesian cannibal
comes running from his native woods, and
site at her feet clothed, and in his right
mind, eats her sacrament, and worships at
.
her altars.
And wherever she moves over the world,
she carries with her all the fruits of that civ•
ilizatiou Which she hasapread over the face
of Chriitendom,its liberty and its literature;
its arisen(' its provisions; its commerce,ag
ricuhure, knowledge and philosophy. Thus
she is commingling and assimilating all the
'races of men; and by acting at the fountain
of all social improvement, on fire interior
and moral hie of man, she is building up a
new order of society,andsectiring it on de'tip
and imperishable foundations. The Spirit
of Him who said "Lot there be Light," is
moving over the face of the moral chaos,
and it will roturn void. It will bring light
out of darkness, and order out of confusion•
it will summon into being a new world,
more beautiful and glorious than_ that aver
which angels and the aaswering stars shout.
ed on the rooming of creation;—a' world of
harmony and love; where humanity will '
hold fellowship with hemen; in which thy
Spirit of Truth will presider to guide into all
truth, and over which it will reign with a
serene and holy dominion for ever.
Por,rrENEss.—ll am extremely glad to
see you.'—There are more lies contained in
these few words, than in all the written
speeches in a lawyer's office; and still the
expression is on the tip of every one's tongue.
Imagine yourself seated in your sanctum
sanctorum,wrapped up in the study ofsome
favorite author, or communing with the hal-
lowed nine—when lo! in pops a creditor,
and throws a bucket of ice water upon your
thoughts! 4 LVIII my dear friend, I'm ex
tremely glad to see you.' There's a thum
per for you to answer forl
Miss is preparing for a party: the ear
riage 'is waiting at the door—and still she
lingers before the mirror adjusting her rich
tresses, when in comes a dear friend biting
her lips with vexation, at the same time for
cing a smile she exclaims, tahl I'm extreme
ly glad to see you.' There's another thum
)CT.
Madam has pickles or sausages to make,
and is up to her ears in pots and kettles,
llrs. Somebody enters with her six little
ones, all dressed as neat as if they had just
been freed from six months imprisonment
in a bandbox. 'Bless me! I'm extremely
glad to see you.' it's a thumper; it's A
downright lie: in her heart she wished her
and all her brood to the --, I'd like to
!lave said it.
When I hero a person say, 'do call and
see me,' it sounds very much like 'John
show the gentleman out. '
There is no such thing as sincere polite.
ness; to be what the fashionable world term
polite, we must necessarily be hypocritical.
The character of sincerity is bluntness, and
a sincere man will never have the back
ache.
A LARGE FAMILY.—Mr. Thos. Nelson
and his worthy wile, of Lower Annamess.ec,
Somerset county, Md., are the living ances
tors of nearly, if not More i Ilan one hundred
industrious and thriving descendants; and,
what ie more remarkable, the whole of this
prosperous progeny are happily settled with•
in the sound of their sire's, grandsire's, or
great grandsire's voice, His voice, howev.
rr, is Stentorian, and he ig yet vigorous and
active in mind and body, and has same
twenty or mere captains in his family.
'CIS HE RICH?"
Many a sigh is heaved—many a heart is
broke, many a life rendered miserable by
the terrible infetuatien which parents often
evince in choosing a life companion for their
daughters. How is it possible tor happi
!less to result from the union of two princi•
pies so diametrically opposed to each other
in every point of view as virtue is to vice.
And yet how often is wealth considered a
better recommendation to a young man than
virtue? flow often is the first question
which is asked respecting the suiter of a
daughter, "ls he rich?"
Is he rich? Yes ho abounds in wealth
—but does that afford any evidence that ho
will make a lend and affectionate husband?
Is ho rich? Yes his clothing is purple
and fine linen, and ho fares sumptuously
every day—but can you infer from this that
he is virtuous?
Is ho rich? Yes ho IMF thousands float
ing on every ocean;'but do not riches some
times take wings to themselves and fly away?
—and will you consent that )our daughter
shall marry a man who has nothing to re.
commend him but his wealth? Ahl be
ware! The gilded bnit.sometimes covers
a barbed hook. Ask not—then "Is he'rich?" .
but "is he virtuous!" Ask not if ho has
wealth, but if he has honor, and do hot sa•
orifice your daughter's peace for money.
Female Wit.- couple of young ladies
having buried their father, who was an old
humbrist, and had such an aversion to mat
rimony that he would not allow them to mar
ry, however advantageous might 'be the of.
ter, conversing on his character, the eldest
observed, 'lle is dead at last, end now we
will marry.'—' Well,' says the youngest,
am for a rich husband.' flold sister,' said
the other, 'don't let us be too hasty in the
choice of our husbands: let us marry those
whom the powers above have destined for
us—tor our marriages are registered in
neaven's 'l'm sorry for that,' repli
ed the youngest 'tor I am afraid father will
tear put the leaf.'
- --`
Anti Vote against Marriage.—Jog says
that if a man feels very much like getting
married, yet imagines that he ought not to,
the best remedy he knows of, is, to help one
of his neighbors move a house full of furni
ture—borrow about nine of his children for
three days, and hear them cry. If that fail,
build up tv fire•Ofdamp wood, and when the
smoke in the room'is thickest,hire a woman
to spottiliim about four hours. IF he can
stand all'these, he'd better get married the
next day—give his wife the pants, and be
the 'silent partner' in the groat firm of mat
rimony. We think the remedy is severe,
but as every man is liable to those things af
ter he yokes himself, it would do no harm
to try it before.
YOUNG MECHANICS.
There is no class of the community upon
whom the future welfare of the country
more essentially depends, than upon the ri
sing generation of young mechanics. If
they are intelligent, sober, industrious and
consequently independent, able and accusto.
med to judge for themselves, and governed
in their own conduct by an enlightened view
of their own best . interest—if they are men
of this sort, (and it is. for their fathers to
make them such) the mechanics will form
the strongest bulwark of our free institu
tions, and the best hope of the Republic.
Good nature ttl the best feature in the
finest face—coif May raise admiration, judg:
ment may Comtnand respect,and knowledge
attention. Beaety may inflame the heart
with love, but gond nature has a morn pow•
orful effect—it adds a thousand attractions
to the charms of beauty, and gites an air of
benificence to the most homely face.
A child, erght years of agn, and of a de.
vout and pious disposition, was asked by an
atheist, "How great it supposed God was?"
it replied, "Ho is so great that ho fills hea.
von and earth, and the heaven of heavens
cannot contain hint, and yet he dwells in my
little heart."
A lad, on delivering his milk a few morn
ings ago, was asked why the milk was so
warm. "I don't know," he replied i with
much simplicity, "unless they put in warm
water instead of coldl"
METFIODIST COLLEGE.•—This enterprising
sect of Christians have been endeavoring to
establish a college in Mississippi. We see
it stated that a subscription of $76,000 has
been made to effect the object. and a corn.
milieu has been appointed to select a site.
Leap Year.—Our erudite fellow citizens
will find, on inspection of the almanac, that
the present year, 1840, is bissextile, or leap-
Year. The child whose hap may be to be
born on the 29th of next month, (.February,)
will behold tffe recurrence of his birth day
but once in four years. Another singular
circumstance respecting leap•year is, that
ladies, by the ancient custom, may pay their
addresses to the gentlemen; so the belle
who has an overly hnshful admirer may save
him from the horrors of popping the ques
lion, and bring the period of courtship to a
speedy conclusion.
"Rationable Amusentents."—We learn
from a Western paper that.a hog race, for
a purse of 850, came olTat West Union, O.
on the 29th ult. There were five entrances
for the purse; and the coursers had been in
training for several weeks. Ono of the
Smiths was the fortunate backer of the win
ning "nag."
VPli-t2g.ta Zabci Oaeo
New organization o' the Militia.
The Secretary of W ar, in his late re.
port, proposes an entire new organization of
the militia throughout the Union. The
present system, he thinks, was never of
much practical benefit, and with the excep
tion of the-volunteer companies, is
,more a
matter of burlesque than of sobei reality,—
The Secretary's plan is in divide the State*
into eight military districts, each of which
are to furnish for enrollment 25,000 men,
nne half to be actively engaged and receive
pay ; the rate of compensation and the num
ber of days service in the year to be , regu
lated by law. The other half are to form a
body of reserve, to be composed ofsuch 'as
have served four years in the active militia.
One fourth of this class are to fall into the
reserve every year to supply the place of
those who are discharged from the perfor
mance of mi!itary• duty. The deficiency
in the Fictive militia to be supplied by fresh
recruits.' The whole number of the mili
tia under this system, would be 200,000, or
about one.seventh of all who are at present
enrolled. •
We have no doubt but that this plan
would be much more efficient than the pre
sent one. Whether the General Govern
ment intends to take the 'whole matter, as
it regards the appointment of officers under
its own immediate control, we aro not in•
formed. Bad :is the present militia system
undoubtedly is, it is far preferable to one
which would rake up a standing army to
carry out the designs of our present corrupt
and ambnious executive.—Lan. Union.
The Baltimore American says:--"The
Canto in which the President of the Conti
nental Congress set,. during the session of
that body, and which was used on the me
morable occasion when the Declaration of
Independence was signed, cost the Govern
ment the round sum of five dollars; whereas,
two thousand ono hundred and fifty-four dol
lars, have been expended on the Chair of
the Speaker, in the Congressional House of
Representatives."
Alarming latelligence.—A writer in Bos
ton computes that there are 30,000 persons
in the United States of the name of John
Smith, and proposes that Congress trans
port all but 0000.
Legal Decision.—ln the Supreme Court
of Massachusetts, it has been decided, that
a grand child born eight months and a halt
atlor the decease of the grandfather, is ie.
eluded in a bequest to "grand•children living
at his decease."
Origin of the word Tailor.—ii is said
the tailors derived their name from an old
circumstance, as follows: Nine stout fel
lows wore at work one day sitting cross ,
logged
_upon a bench in their shop; when an
old soul entered, and gabled up four of them
at as many mouthfuls! Whereat the boa,
of the shop defending himself with his
sheers, cried out--tail her, tail her! when
one of the ailriganodjours seized the animal
by that necessary appendage, the tail; and
dragged her out of the shop! Ever after
tho•cralt wore called tailors, from the cir
cumstance of having tailed the old sow!
A Scottish nobleman one day visited is
lawyer at. his office, in which, at the time,
there was a blazing lire, which led him to ,
—I your office is as hot
as an earn." "So it should be, my lord," re•:
plied the lawyer, "it is herohat I make my
bread."
A country girl, attending a Quaker meet
ing, was asked by a friend how she liked
it 1 "Like it I why I see no sense in sit-
ting 'tor hours without saying a word ;
enough to kill the (1-1." "Yea, my dear,"
replied he, "thnt is, just what we want."
Da not s:gh for this, world's goods, nor
lament thy poverty. Out of the meanest
hovei is obtained as fake sight of•heaven,,
as from the most gorgeous palace.
An !lancet Hibernian, upon reading bier
phystcian's bill, replied to the doctor that
ho had no objections to paying him lot his
medicine, but his visit., he would return.
A man having been capitally convicted,
was, as usual, asked what he had to say. why
judgment ordeath should not pass against
him? ',Say!' replied he, why I think the
joke has been carried far enough already,
and the less that is said about it the better.'
We find the following in one of our exchange
papers. It is good philosophy :
"I heard the hammer of a mechanic. that
owes me, at 4 o'clock this morning : I'll
trust him till April.
I saw another, yesterday afternoon, who
has plenty of work on hand, lounging at the
door of a grog shop have him before
the squire next week."
NEW Jensne.—Tho Madisonian says:
"The rumor is that .numbers of Van Buren
men in this state, disgusted with tho course
their party have taken hi Congress, are go
ing in fur the Hero of Tippecanoe. Soma
of the papers recommend the withdrawal by
N. Jersey of her senators and representa
tives m Congress, and the repudiation of
federal laws in that state, until congress has
repaired the injury it hail done her.
Dr. Brandreth states that in one year his
printing hills amount to 8100,000, end that
since 1835 ho has sold nine million boxes
of pills. Tim lurgo sum which he paid far
ad% crtiaing, , has not be,su lost.