gtrait& j I L IVA_ f ABBE It Wb.2icb 33c1--41 9 1)c. dem Office of the Star & Banner COUNTY BUILDING, ABOVE ME OFFICE OF THE REGISTER AND RECORDER. I. 'r.lo Sran & ItgPUBLICAN BANNER is pub i4hoil at TWO DOLLARS per annum (or Yol u no of 52 na.nbers,) payable half-yearly in rid vance: or TWO DOLLARS & FIFTY CENTS, if not p :id until after the expiration of the year. If. No subscription will he received for a shorter period than six months; nor will the paper be dis continued until all arroarages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. A failure to notify a dig continuanct will be considered a new engagement and the paper forwarded accordingly. M. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding a square will be inserted THREE times for $l, and 25 cents for each subsequent insertion—the number of in sertion to be marked, or they will be published till forbid and charged accordingly; longer ones in the same proportion. A reasonablededuction will be made to those who advertise by the year. IV. All Lotto rsand Communications addressed to the Editor by mail must be post-paid, or they will not be attended to. Tim GARLAND. —" With sweetest flowers enriched From various gardens cull'd with care." APPEARANCES. Think not because tho eyes aro bright, And smiles are laughing there, The heart that beats within is light, And free from pain and care. A blush may tinge the darkest cloud, E ro Sol's last rays depart, And underneath the sunniest smile May lurk the saddest heart. Mirth's sudden gleam may light the cheek, Though joy be far away, As blossoms oft Adorn the tree That's hasteniug to decay: Alas! 'tie but the varying hue Of April's wayward hours— A sunbeam bursting brightly through, When all behind are showers. For there are pangs, the sorrowing heart Will oft in darkness shroud, That lurk within'the lonely depths Like lightning in the eland; As fella the shadow on the path, When bright the sunbeams glare, Which ever way our thoughts are turned, That darksorne shape is there. Though brightly o'er the hollow cheek The smile, the laugh may break; Like bubbles bursting on the breast Of Acheron's dark lake; They aro but outward signs to hide The deadly pangs we feel, As o'er the lone and-mouldering tower, The rose is taught to steal. THERE'S NO SUCH GIRL AS MINE. Oh! there's no such girl as mine In all the wide world round, With her hair of golden twine, And her voice of silver sound; ,Her eyes aro as black as the sloes, And quick is hor ear so fine, And her broach is as sweet as the rose— There's no such girl as mine! Her spirit so sweetly flows-- Unconscious winner of hearts! There's a smile wherever she gods, And a sigh whenever she parts; A blessing she wins from the poor— To court her the rich all incline; She's welcome at every door— Oh! there's no such girl es mine! She's light to the banquet hall, Sho'e balm to the couch of care; In,sorrow—in mirth—in all Sho takes her own sweet . share; Enchanting the many abroad, At home does her brightness shine; Oh! 'twerp endless her worth to laud; There's no such girl as mine! EllEtaC93Ullaro@cDOE:lo From the Star and Transcript. THE ADVERTISEMENT. Surrounding a table, on which were man• gled caps of tea, bottlos of liquors, glasses, and a bowl of punch. Alfred Couvraud, and some half dozen of his young compan• ions were. finishing their evening's enter. tainment. Their party had been rather a noisy one; all young and gay, the room had resounded with joyous fooleries, mirthful songs, and shouts of laughter. But as change, in this world, is universal, their merriment wore out of itself, and the con versation took a sorio-comic turn. It was evident that the liquids were nearly exhaus• ted. 'lt may be allowed, gentlemen,' said Al fred, placing his empty glass on the table, and with a heightened color, that contras ted forcibly with the tone of gravity, which he tried to assume, 'it must be allowed that the life ofa bachelor is very insipid.' His companions looked at hire with astonish ment, and their silence indicated that they were not of his opinion. Alfred continued, 'Exertion, without an end—noise and riot without result. Days spent in sowing the thelruits of prodigality, regret and repent ance. This is the lila of a bachelor, which is called the most delightful season of our existence.' 'But it is the freedom from care and re straint that forms its charm; you cannot de ny,' sold Felix Janior, who appeared to have preserved his senses better than the rest. '1 am fired of that freedom,' cried Alfred, 'wearied with allusions and chimeras that ex haust me, while attempting to realise them. I am disgusted with silly amors which fail to interest the heart, while they destroy my sensibility. I must have tranquility—a reg ular, domestic life.' 'Are you dreaming of marriage?' asked Felix. 'You have said it. Yes! a beloved wife same little image of myself—happiness es Burned and continuous—it is of these, I dream. 'Then what prevents you from marrying?' 'Why, my good fellow, I am so idle. I do not like the trouble of seeking a wife; be sides, by sseking, one is not likely to find a suitable person. 'Then I suppose you would like some la dy to seek you?' • 'And why not?' 'Well, 1 see but one way, place an adver tisement in some favorite journal!' 'Faith I never thought of that I' 'And you would not have done it, ifyou had. I was but jesting when I named it.' 'But I am positively serious !' hat,to publish yourself in this manner!' 'Yes !' 'And give your address?' 'To be sure!' 'Come, come—that would be too original and you are not the man to do it.' 'But 1 will do dr 'And whet,r 'To night!' '1 will wager a dinner you do not!' '1 accept the bet.' 'Gentlemen,' said Felix, rising, 'you are witness to this wager. You will partake of the dinner to•rcoriow at the Recher Con cale.' Of course, there was no dissenting voice to this invitation, and the evening be ing far advanced, the party seperated. The morning of the next day was cold and rainy; one of these gloomy days in which tame creeps slowly away, and the at mosphere seems almost to breathe despair. Madame Souville and her friend Lucy were suffering from iti influence; they had been silent foZ more than five minutes, and that was a long time for two young, for tunate, and pretty women, one of whom had proved that love may survive marriage, and the other was at two and twenty, the widow of an old man, to whom she had considered herself sacrificed. Seated before a good fire, the two ladies were, notwithstanding devoured by the vapors, when Lucy sudden ly paused from mechanically turning ot•er the leaves of the morning's journal. Her attention was arrested by a few lines, which she had not perceived on looking over it, and having read them laughed heartily. 'What is UV said her friend. 'Oh the oddest thing, the drollest, and most incredible,that you can fancy,' answer ed Lucy. 'Of what nature?' 'An advertisement —I will give you ten minutes—twenty minutes to guess its pur port.' 'lt is not worth while to try.' 'Perhaps not—so listen. A young man twenty—eight years of age, dark complex tion, good figure, and agreeable counter• ance, well educated, and posessing qualities which he flatters himself would assure the happiners ofany lady who may enjoy an in come of not more than eight thousand franca desires to enter the state of matrimony as early as possible. Youth and beauty are not of so much value in his estimation as those moral and sterling qualities that form the basis of domestic happiness,—yet he would rather that the lady should not ex ceed his own age, nor would he unite him self to a woman repulsively ugly. Address (between noon and four P. M.) to M. Al fred Couvraud, 11 Rue d'Angouleme.' 'Are these really the words?'said Mad ame Souville, laughing in her turn!' 'Read for yourself.' Madame took the paper, ar.d looked over the paragraph, -it is ton absurd,' she said. 'He is some ninny,' added Lucy, 'some ignorant, stupid lout.' 'Who thinks himself an accomplished gentleman,' continued Madame. 'lt is carryiug self conceit rather too far, observed the lively young widow, 'such a fellow ought to be punished—he wants a lesson. Suppose we give him one!' 'And how?' 'Send for him here, and laugh at him. He must be a fit subject for mirth, I am sure!' 'Oh, you jest.' 'No, indeed, 1 do not!' 'But what purpose would it answer?' 'Why, we are already weary of this gloo• my day, and it is not yet half gone.' 'Well, but reflect my dear Lucy; obser vances, you know.' 'He must be a person incapable of judg. ing of such matters.' 'But what can we say to him?' 'We should be at a loss on that point, I am quite certain!' • 'Suppose any thing unpleaeant should rise out of such a proceeding?' have no fear of that—we shall be two to one, and two woman too!' 'Madame SoUvillo Imitated a moment, and then said, 'You seem so determined,that I suppose 1 must consent.' She then wrote a few lines on pretty paper, folded, and sea led it coquettishly, and then rang for her coachman. 'Peter', said she, put the hot.. ses to the carriage, and take this note to its address.' The coachman obeyed her orders; and Lucy clapped her hands in ecstacy, antici pating rare sport. The two ladies, like two children, eager for a game of play, wai ted impatiently for the return of Peter, with M. Alfred Couvraud. G. '77.3613=1NGT0N 330'77'EN, EDITOR Zr. PROPRIETO. a The liberty to know, to utter, and to argue, freely, is above all other libertieso9-111iLiori. etaietezramtrate. wtrateaDdire. &revival:Fa:tax so a04.1a. Madame said no more, and Lucy took up the conversation in a laughing manner. "Fhen, if I were to offer you my haud, you would accept it without hesitation?' 'Without hesitation —that is, if you an swer to the conditions for which I have stip ulated,' said Alfred, rather staggered by the lady's coming to the point at once. .W hat a pity; no doubt you mean a young girl, you would not marry a widow!' 'And why not?' replied the young man, unable to perceive how he should get out of the scrape be had advertised himself into, 'I should think my chance for happiness greater with a widow than a young girl. Girls have such g olden di eams, and invest the men of their c hoice with imaginary per fection. And I know that I am not per fect.' 'This difficulty being removed, I see no other,' added Lucy, laughing heartily. Al- fred felt rather strange; he thought some jest was to be played off, but be could not guess how, or for what purpose. He re. solved, however, to have all his wits about him, and at any rate to come off with the honors of war. 'No', continued Lucy, see no obstacle. I think lam not very ug ly, I know I am not too old; and I suppose if my fortune were double what you name, that would not be a positive objection.'— Alfred breathed more freely; he saw a means of escape, and he hastened to say, 'indeed, Madame, that would be a greater obstacle than you may suppose?' 'lndeed!' 'Yes. I have talents by which I can gain a yearly income of nine or ten thousand francs. 1 estimate myself at that sum, and no more; and, as I am of opinion that there should be equality on all points between uniting parties to ensure their mutual hap piness, I have resolved that I will owe nothing to my wife. nor shall she be indebt. ed to me?' 'And you would refuse a lady from this motive' I would. I am not of an ungrateful disposition, and cannot endure the feeling of obligation. 'Then, Sir there is no more to be said.' 'Forget this interview, Madam,' and Al• !red ris►ng, and begged permission to re• Madame Souville's carriage had been a quarter of an hour before Alfred's door, yet he had not comprehended the note, which he was reading for the ninth time. 'M. Al- Couvraud is requested that he will allow himself to be conveyed in the carriage sent him; to a person who wishes to see him on important buisness.' Suddenly recollecting the wager of the proceeding evening, he said to himself—'Ah ! this is some trick of these metry fellows; they would fain see if am willing to follow the consequences of that insertion. Well, they shall find lam not one to recede; and they may see the ta bles turned perhaps.'—And he dressed him. self hastily and descended, but on getting into the carriage, the coachman's livery staggered him a little. He stretched him self, however, quite comfortable on the cush ioned beat, and thought, 'Bah! the better to succeed, they have borrowed this equipage. Well, let those laugh who win!' The horses, in a very few minutes, stopped before the gates of a handsome hotel, which were immediately opened, and Alfred, alighting, was conducted by a domestic, who was evi. dently waiting for him, up stairs. The young gentleman was somewhat astonished, when, the servant having thrown open a pair of folding doors to announce him, he found himself in the presence of two ladies.— Though he felt puzzled, he did not lose his presence of mind, and still suspecting some ambush, he held himself prepared to act on the defensive. The surprise of the ladies was equal to his own. Instead of an awk ward simpleton, with whom they thought to amuse themselves, they saw a well manner ed personable young man. His look was gracious, yet polite, and his dress elegant, without being foppish. He addressed the ladies without embarrassment, and begged to know to what cause to attribute the invi tation which had brought him to their pres ence. They were confounded and silent for a time, not knowing how to reply. At length Lucy, summoning confidence pointed to the journal, and said, I believe you are the gentleman whose name appears in that pape r?' 'I am, Madame,' he replied. 'You will excuse the liberty we have ta ken,' continued Lucy, motioning that he should take a seat. 'Ladies,' said Alfred, seating himself, 'you have only used the privilege which 1 accorded to any one by thatadvtfrtiseinent.' 'Perhaps our curiosity has been too great in this matter,' added Lucy. 'Not greater than the singularity of the lines that caused it, Madame—the one jus. tifies the other.' tr These answers were not such as ware ex• peeled, and she began to feel herself rather awkwardly situated, when her friend came to her assistance. 'Of course this insertion is not meant seriously,' said Madame Sou ville. 'lt is, I assure you, madame!' 'And do you think it will answer your purpose?' 'I hope it will.' 'Marriage, Sir, is a sacred and important thing, the means you take--' 'Are certainly not the most prudent, Madame, but they have the merit of candor. It is better to be known before marriage than to be studied afterwards; and for some• thing more solid than a love based on illu- sion, and the hypothetical happiness of mere promise.' 'You are positive, sir.' 'I think I am reasonable.' tire. The ladies assented; he bowed and left the room, doubting whether he were in a dream, or had been engaged in a scene, planed by Felix Jamer. 'Truly this young man is a singular be ing,' said Lucy to her friend, when the door had closed on Alfred, 'it is very well that 1 magnihed my riches, or he might have taken me at my word!' told you,' said Msdame Souville, 'that we might find we had done a foolish thing.' 'But who could imagine that we should meet with such an adversary,' observed the widow; 'really I do not dislike him.' That 'same evening, Alfred Felix. and their friends assembled at the appoints(' place. Felix enacted the Amphitryon, with a rather ill grace; and Alfred, by a few adroit questions, satisfied himself that none of the party had been privy to the adventure of the morning. He thought it very odd, as he reflected on it, after hie return from the dinner. The following day he went to concert Valentino, and there, by chance, met the two ladies. He bowed to them. A day or two alter Duprez played William Tell, and in the lobby of the opera house, Alfred again, by chance, met Mad. ame Souville and Lucy. They exchanged a few words. The following day was invi ling for a walk, and they met in the Toil. leries; of course by chance. This time they entered into conversation; something like old acquaintance. Two months after this, Felix Janier, arriving from an excursion :nto Normandy, found on hi s table a letter from Alfred, an nouncing his approaching marriage, and requesting his friend to be present at the ceremony. Hereafter let it not be said, that an adver tisement is a fruitless experimant, and the money expended for its insertion is like water thrown into the sea. SONNET ON TIGHT LACING. TO AMERICAN MOTHERS. If ye would crush the tree, before one flower Bath made its fragrance or its fruitage known; If you would break the harp, before one tone liath told the compass of its varied power; If ye would quench the lamp at twilight hour, Or plant the brier where the rose had grown, Or crush the statue in the encasing stone— Then make the 'corset curse' your daughters dower! But, oh, if you regard your God's impression, Stamped on the human form! If ye would arm Your sons against consumption's ghastly charm, Banish this vice from every christian nation! And know that moanza—in whatever form— Of self, or offspring, is no slight transgression! There is an admirable lesson contained in the following extract from Miss Hannah Moore's Strictures on tbo modern system of female education: "Cities, then, there is a season when the youthful must cease to be young, and the beautiful to excite admiration, to learn,how to grow old gracefully, is perhaps one of the rarest and most valuable arts that can be taught to woman. And, it must be confess ed it 14 a most severe trial for those women to lay down beauty, who have nothing else to take up. It is for this setter season of life, that education should lay up its rich re sources. However disregarded hitherto they may have been, they will be wanted now. When admirers fall away and flat terers become mute, the mind will be driven to retire into itself, and if it findpo enter. tainment at home, it will be driven back again upon the world with increased force. Yet forg etting this, do we not seem to edu cate our daughters exclusively for the tran sient period of youth, when it is to tnaturer age we ought to advert? Do we not educate them for a crowd, forgetting they are to live at home? for a crowd, and not for them selves? for show, and not for use? for time and not for eternity? ADVICE TO MARRIED PEOPLE.—in the first place on the very day after your mar riage, whenever you do marry, take one precaution—be cursed with no more trou bles for life than you have bargained for. Call the roll for all your wife's even speak• ing acquaintances, and strike out every soul that you have—or fancy you ought to have —or fancy you ever shall have—a glimpse of dislike to. Upon this point be merciless, your wife wont hesitate—a hundred to one —between a husband and a gossip; and, if she does, don't you. Be particularly sharp upon the list of women, of course men—you would frankly kick any one from Pall Mall to Pimlico, who presumed only to recollect ever having seen her. And don't be ma- nceuvred out of what you mean by cards or morning coils, or any notion of what people call .'good breeding." Po you be content to show your ill-breeding by shutting the door, and the vienters can show their good breeding by nut coming again. One sylla ble more to part—if you wish to be happy yourself, be sure that you make your wife so. Never dispute with her when the ques tion is of no importance; nor where it is of the least consequence, let any earthly con • s:deration over once induce you to give way. Be at home as much as you can; be as strict as you will but never speak unkindly; and never havis a friend upon such terms in your house as to be able to enter it without cere mony. Above all, remember that these maxims Are intrusted to all of you as td per sons of reason and discretion. A na ked sword only cuts the fingers of a mad man; and the rudder with which the pilot saves the ship; in the hands of the powder monkey i would only probably force her upon. tho rocks. Recollect that your inqnest as to matrimony is a matter of the greatest nice• ty; because either an excess of vigilance or a deficiency will alike compromise its sue. cess. It you don't question far enough, the odds are ten to one that you will get a wife who will disappoint you. If you question a jot too far, you will never get a wife at all. —.....• • flOb''' ERROR 9 IN THE MODE. OF EDUCATION.- The practice of beginning to teach children when too young.—lt is a common opinion that the sooner a child is put to its books the greater the amount of knowledge which he may obtain in a given number of years. A child that begins to learn the letters of the alphabet at four years old will be as far ad vanced at five, as one that begins at three. A child that begins at three, will be two or three years learning to read well; but one that begins at five may be taught to read well in six or eight weeks. Experiment has proved the fact. 2. The like mistake is made in putting children 'to difficult studies at too early an age. A child ol‘fiiiti• or six year of age is put to the study of geography, arithmetic or history; his progress is slow; he learns a little and that imperfectly; and thus he spends a winter or 'two, to very little pur pose. The same child at nine or ten years ofage will learn as much in two months, as he will at five or six years of age in two winters—and understand and retain what he learns much better. 3. Another mistake i$ in attelrpting , to instruct young people in too many things at once. The most important point perhaps in a system of instruction, as in every kind of business is. to do one thing at a time.— r. Locke mentions this as a primary rule to be observed in teaching. When the greatest merchant in Holland was asked how he .could transact such an immense bumness, he replied—By doing one'thing at a time. This rule is not observed in our schools. The reverse is the fact, to the great dotri. ment of education. Children are put to several studies the same day; they learn a little of one thing. and then a little of an other; they learn nothing perfectly:—and a great part of what they do learn is soon forgotten. From' the New York Express LETTER FROM MAJ. DOWNING. "The Campbells are coming"—and as "coming events cast their shadows before" —we commend the letter which follows to our anxious readers. We confess our ap probation of the idea shadowed forth by the Major, of putting things as they were before the Goths and Vandals over run the land. Most estimable men—most estimable insti tutions, were "run o ft the track"—and if after examination they are found worthy, we say restore them to position—the coun ter revolution we have experienced fully indicates a desire to return to what we were when prosperity smiled to industry. "The old guard' should not be overlooked, though the fog of modern days and party strife may have overshadowed them. ON OUR WAY TO WASHINGTON. To the Editors of the New York Express: We are coming—slowly but surely— for as the Gineral has got a good many old friends and stopping places on the way, and wants to look about him and see as much of the country as he can before 4th March next, he thought it best to start early and make as much of a circumbendibus as pos. sible. Ido rely believe if the Gineral had let folks have their way, he wouldn't "touch bottom" from the time of leaving the Cabin till he got to the.. Whtte louse—but he would rather go afoot any day than pass through all the burrowing that is set up alOng the road—it beats the "grand tower" all hollow—for there aint a living crittur who dont yell out most awful and swing his hat round as soon as ke sees the Gineral; and 1 expect it will come pritty tuff on me before we git to,the end on't, for it aint pos sible for one man to do all the bowing and shaking hands that Is 'required. One thing surprises.me which is to know what on arth has become of "the opposition,"l haint seen a rale Loco Foco now going on nigh two months. 1 suppose you are all considerable curi ous to know who the Gineral is going to appint to all the big and little officks, and 1 have taken care to ask the Gineral and he has told me all about a, and says I am at liberty to tell you and every body else, and so 1 dont see the use in keeping this matter any longer in the dark. I saw the paper the day afore we started and it was the last that was pack'd up—lt is the big gest sheet you ever seen, all ruled off in wide streaks and on top is written, "Names of my fellow citizens who I believe are able to disfharge faithfully and honestly the du ties of the office to which I may nominate them to the Senate of the U. S., for appoint ment," and that is gritty much all I could see, except on the outside is written in pen. cil, '.to be look'd to and fill'd up on and a/ ter 4th March next." There is a good deal said in all these parts about Bank matters, and every body has some plan or other to put things strait. The Gineral don't himself say much a bout it, but he reads pretty much all that is written on the matter and lets folks talk all they know and he finishes off by thinking. One, chap call'd (other day and read to the Gineral a long letter from New York containing a statement of the .big bank in Philadelphia, and showing by another state- ment that it was broken all to bits—and though the Bank shovi'd a long bat of prop erty and debts due to it—yet that all that property and debts warn't worth any thing, and that it never would do to have such an• other rascally aristocratic institution."— ""Well," says I,"slistcr it seems tome that what you call aristocratic comes nigher to APZICIV2aM 41 4 (Elcb eadcb !detnrcratic—Now,' says I, ' . if that Bank I had stuck to 'the aristocracy,' and lent mon ey only to the rich folks, it would nowhave no bad d..lits to collect." "0 well;' says he, 'poor folks never ought to borrow mon. or they ought to get along without it."— t•Well," says I, "that is u notion I never thought on afore, for wtien I wail in the last Gocerrment along with Gineral Jackson; F all our democratic friehds used to pester the Gineral and me a'l the while to make the U. State. Bunk to shell out to p.mr :olks,and we took the deposits away from it because the complaint was that Squire B.ddle and the Bank was too aristocratic and didn't give poor folks a chance to burrow mo ney to carry en their trade with. Now, says I, "how do you make that square with yocr present notions." "Why the fact is," says he, "it is pretty tufrworkto make the notions of one time fit the notions ofan other time; but 1 do say it never will do to have another such a•Bank, for it is pretty nigh all owned by foreign aristocrats, and that never will do in a de. mocratic country—it is downright awful; and Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Benton and all the good democrats in Congress say it will be the ruin of the country." "Well, now," says I, "if that don't beat Solomon! How long do you think it would take foreigners to destroy the country by putting their money id' the big Bank and !et Squire Biddle loan it out to the poor de mocracy, who you say will - never pay it back again?" 'Chic set him to scratching his head a little, and not liking that tune he changed it and said, "But it aint right to loan for eigners' money in that way, it flint treating on 'em well and it destroys their confidence in us." "Well, well," says 1, "we best look into that matter, and see that things aint made worse than they need be. We have pritty much all on us been struggling bard under and through a heavy storm and he who has saved any thing may think himself pritty well off, A ship may be good for something, though she has lost a few sails. I have seen the "Two Ponies," in my day strip pritty nigh clean, but Capt. Jumper with a • leetle assistance from the other owners, would rig her up and she would go off agin as slick ae ever. 1 have seen cornfields and cotton fields all sent to smash in one squall of wind and hail, but folks would go "to work ague and the next season they would have better luck. It aint wise nor righte oue," says 1, "for folks to turn to croaking, I and when times are bad, turn to aad sell off and quit, that's just the time to hang on and cheer up, and off coat and go at it, and put things to rights for good weather and fair wind. There is one thing," says I, "that is pritty certain in money matters,—what may be loan'd or spent in the country is not wasted or lost; it is sornowlieres about, and folks don't eat it or drink it, it's only going the rounds. A few years ago the Treasury • was so full it could'nt hold and now it's all out. 'Uncle Sam' haint got a dollar in his pocket, and is in debt too, but who says he's broke?—he has got plenty of property but if he was to throw up and sell off his property in these times it would'nt bring enuff to pay one year's expenses he's at.— And so it is with most kinds of property,— very few who have much and owe any thing but would come out at the leetle end of the horn by selling offend given up. The only way then is to fix things so as to let folks go to work at their different trades and cal lings and set matters moving and you will see then how the cat jumps." "Well,' says he, "1 should like to know what our new President thinks of these matters." "Well, says I, "he thinks a good deal about 'em, but he don't mean to talk about 'em till the 4th of March next, on account of his respect for Mr. Van Buren who is President till that time—but when the 4th of March comes then you and all the rest of the people (now considerable over twelve millions) will all see it in black and white so there will be no mistake—his no tions about the Constitution are for the Pres. ident to talk to Congress and tell them all he knows and then he is sure all the people will git it—but if you are in a hurry and would like to know my notions about it afore hand—one thing you may be sure on, and that is, we shall go back to the pint where the car run off the track and look to the cause on't and put all them matters right— , examine the track, the engine, and engin eers—and at all the cross tracks look well to the switch men—for next to running off the track is getting on a long track and then "go ahead"—and with that I scraped back m y r i g ht foot and said as I say to you, ' "My service to you." J. DOWNING, Major, &c. &c. The mahogany coffin which enclosed the remains of Napolean at St. Helena, and which was exchanged for the ebony one brought from France, was cut up by order of the Prince de Joinville, and distributed in pieces to the officers and men of the Belle Poule and Favourite. Several pieces were disposed of by the sailors, on their ar rival in France, at frcm 300 to 500 franca each. HINTS TO TAILOBS.-4t is computed that during the past year there have been cab. bayed by the tailors of this matroplia, nine thousand four hundred and seven yards of cloth, eighteen pecks of buttons, two miles of tape, and four acres of buck ram exclusive ofallowahles, cabbag e, and swell fingering's —4o says the New York Mercury, and as Mercury is the patron of thieves his rascal ly. god-ship ought to know.
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