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THE GARLAND.
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—" With sweetest flowers cnrich'd
From various gardens cull'd with care."
From the Christian Journal
THE FATHER TO EIS MOTHER•
LESS carr.Ditimr.
Come gather closor to my silo
, My little smitten flock—
And I will toll of him who brought
Pure water from the Rock;
Who boldly led God's people forth
j From Egypt's wrath and guile—
And once a cradle babe did float
All helpless on tho Nilo.
You're weary, precious ones, your eyes
Are wandering far and wide,—
Think ye of her who know so well
Your tender thoughts to guide?
Who could to Wisdom's sacred lore
Your fixed attention claim—
Oh never from your hearts erase •
That a ced mother's name.
timo to sing your evening hymn—
My youngest infant dove;
Como press the velvet cheek to mine
And learn the lay of love - .
My sheltering arms can clasp you all,
My poor deserted throng;
Cling as you used to cling to her,
• Who sings the Angel's song.
Begin, sweet birds the accustomed strain—
Come .warble loud and clear—
Alas! alas! you're weeping all,
You're sobbing in my ear.
Good night—go say the prayer she taught,
Beside your little bed;
The lips that used to bless you there .
Are silent with the dead.
A Father's bond your courso may guido
Amid the thorns of life—
His cora protect these shrieking plants
That dreads the storm of strife;
But who upon your infant hearts
Shall like that mother write]
Who touch the springs that rule the soul!
Door mourning babes, good night.
MIIC10111115 , 2,31111 ( btilt3o
From the Philatlolphia Sitturdey Courier.
THE BLAOIE VEIL;
Or..doing things In too much of a hurry
g.Dclay loads impotent and snail-paced beggary;
Then fiery expedition bo my wing,"
Says Shakspeare; but it will not do. Ex
perience has taught me that "fiery expedi.
tion" will not do. From a child I was too
precipitate. Tho world wagged too slow
for me. 1 never possessed even a moderate
quantum of patience. "Don't in such a hur
ry," was constantly rinsing in my ears.
When a schoolboy nothing ever went fast
enough —not even time itscif. It was al.
ways too long from Monday morning till
Friday night. Ido believe that I should
not have obtained even a common education
if it had not been for the frequent applica.
lion of the rod, which came not like angel's
visits—few and far between—but frequent
and very like the pelting of a hailstorm.
I was just twenty-one years of age, when
I first stepped from the steamer on the wharf
at tslow Orleans—a perfect stranger with
little' knowledge of the world, but with a
very pretty fortune, my father having paid
the last debt of nature a year before, and
loft me his sole heir, his entire effects.
I pocketed my money and set out into the
world to find a place where'peopie were not
so slow, and if possible every thing went by
steam; but this I find not to be the case,
oven on board a steamboat. The vessel to
be sure was propelled by steam, but 1 found
pretty much to my annoyance, that the ser
vant used the same old plan of locomotion
I had formerly been accustomed , to, and
that the cooks used no steam engines for
making bread and cooking beef steaks.
Well, I found myself* in the city of all
nations, in which may be found all colors,
from the lair faced Caucaiiiin to the sooty
Afi icon. Although the dire yellow fever
had hut just sent its lust victim to tho grave
for the season, vet there were merry and
happy looking fares; faces whose owners
seemed to have known no such thing as
ea re.
I had been in the city only twenty four
hours when I found that rhould vory
shortly have the "blues" to contend with,
if I did not seek out some- amusement; so
quitting my lodgings I sallied forth without
having any particular object in view. 1
had walked on for some time, (very briskly
of course, for I was in a hurry) when 1 per-
ceived a concourse of people entering a
cathedral. I followed the crowd and se
cured a seat. The congregation had col
lected and the worship began; and I was
ruminating on the possiblity of an escape,
(for 1 was already becoming Impatient)
when my eye was attracted to the portal
by the entrance of a lady closely veiled.
Having dropped her fingers into the holy
water, and devoutly crossed herself, she pro.
ceeded along the stele nearest me to an un
occupied pow. My eyes were riveted,as she
tripped gracefully by, upon her form—for
a more beautiful, a more symmetrical, a
more nearly perfect form I never beheld.
Her face was completely shut from my gaze
by an impenetrable black veil, which al-.
though it seemed to be light and gauze
like, yet revealed not one feature.
"She is angelic!" thought I; "could a
form like that have other than the face of an
angel?" I was precipitate as usual. I. was
in love with the fair form—with the face I
certainly could nut he, for I had not seen
it yet. I resolved at once to follow her
home, and to find out, if possible who she
was.
The worship ceased., The crowd die
persed. I saw my fair incognito leave the
church alone. I followed her. • I could
not but admire her graceful airy step as she
walked on before me though entirely un
concious of the admiration she was eliciting.
What ease is in her gait! while as she walks,
Her waist, still tapering, takes it pliantly,
The shades of the evening were fast Bath•
ering in. Twilight was deepening into
night. 1 had followed the unknown lady
through several streets and alleys when we
came into one less frequented than the rest.
I turned my eyes for the thousandth time
on the object of my pursuit, when I saw her
suddenly start back and heard her utter a
loud shriek, I was at her side in a mo
ment and had knocked the ruffian down
who had dared to molest her, into the gut
ter.
"Will you accept my protection and as•
sistance, ma'am?" said 1, offering my arm.
"I cannot refuse, sir, since you have pla
ced me under so great an obligation to you;
and indeed, I thank you very much for the
offer, since you have shown yourself so rea
dy to assist an unprotected female, for night
is fast approaching, and my residence is
several squares distant," she returned in a
sweet voice.
She took my arm, and we walked on in
silence until we reached her residence, a
handsome looking house, situated in the
most fashionable part of the town.
I accepted her invitation to walk in, and
the recent occurrence having been related
to her mother I received a very warm wel
come from both. What with a musical
skill and sprightly conversation ofthe daugh
ter and the agreeable manners of the moth
er, I spent the evening very pleasantly.—
But there , was one alloy to my happiness.
I had not, during the whole time, seen one
feature of the lady's face. I took my leave
at midnight, under a pressing invitation to
repeat the visit.
There is some mystery about this veiled
beauty and I am determined to unravel it,
said I to myself, as I shifted my position in
bed tor the hundredth time.
The next evening found me shaping my
course towards the residence of Miss Mary
Wilson, the name of my fair incog. And
I was most kindly received by Mrs. Wilson,
who met me at her own door.
'Mr. Arlington,' said she, before usher
ing me into the parlor, 'you perhaps were
not a little surprised at my daughter's not
unveiling herself in your presence last eien
ing. She has from some whim or other,
vowed never to permit her face to be seen
by any man until she is married (a deter.
mination not likely to be of any assistance
to her on that score,) I have tried all the
means in my power to dissuade her from
her purpose, but in vain. The veil she
wears is a most extraordinary one—while
she sees plainly through it, her face is
entirely hidden from an observer.'
'Has she no particular reason for making
the vow of which you speak?'
'None whatever. Sheds a Catholic, and
the Catholics you know, adhere most strict.
ly to their vows.'
I was even better entertained than the
evening before. Miss Mary's conversation
showed considerable knowledge of books,
and not a little knowledge of the hidden
mysteries of science. She sung divinely.
1 was in raptures, I was in love—deeply in
love.
I took my leave with feelings I had never
before experienced. I was determined to
unravel the mystery that I believed was
banging around that impenetrable. veil. 1
did not for a moment doubt the brightness
of the eyes, or the beauty of the features,
which were concealed beneath it; yet I
longed to behold the face of her for whom
I lied contracted so great a passion, and
whose form had irreo gresta degree excited
my wonder and acimiratiOn. There hung
that impenetrable black veil, a seeming bar.
rior between me and the dear object adored.
I felt almost tempted, at. times, to snatch it
away, and force her to reveal the charms
she so cruelly withheld from my view,but I
was awed into respect by the dignified
deportment of the wearer.
I retired to my lodgings, and to bed, and
was just surrendering myself into the arms
of the drowsy god, when I was startled by
G. VTAMZINGTON 80V7EN, EDITOR &. PROPRIETOR.
"The liberty to know, to utter, and to argue, freely, to above all other liberties."—Mu.rox.
surawtezreiattrzas. ZP4/Q 0 wratamalro aztarnezz sa o acuia.
the cry of fire, and the rattling of. onginas
in the street. Having hastily left my bed.
room, and arrived at the scone of conflagra
tion, 1 perceived a whole block of buildings
including the one from which 1 had so lately
issued, wrapt in flames.
`What has become of Mary Wilson? has
she escaped—or does she remain in the burn
ing building?' 1 asked myself in succession.
I was horror stricken—l knew not what to
do. But just at that moment Mrs. Wilson
rushed from the house, calling on the multi
tude to rescue her daughter.
Ina moment I was ascending the burning
staircase, which tottered beneath my tread.
With no little difficulty I gained the landing
place. Hero 1 was brought to a stand,
nearly suffocated with the thick smoke and
intense heat. But where was the object of
my search? There was a door on each
hand—l rushed impetuously against the
nearest —it flew upon, and discovered to me
a lady lying on her face in a state of insen
sibility. I caught her up and bore her
down the tottering staircase to the outer
door, and just as 1 was about to leap down,
the sill of the door gave way, and precipita
led me with my handsome burden into the
street.
When I recovered, I found myself in a
handsomely furnished apartment. I looked
up and beheld, not tho face of a lady bend
ing over me, but a black veil, concealing
a face I knew' to be Mary Wilson's. As I
opened my eyes, she started back, as if
afraid 1 would detect her solicitude fur me;
but seizing her hand, 1 detained her.
'O, Maryl Miss Wilson! thank God you
were not injured by that fearful full. It
was indeed a fearful.fall. How did you
escape?'
'I owe my life entirely to your intrepidi
ty,' returned she, crossing herself, as the
recollection of the horrid scene of the pre•
vious night crossed her mind. 'When you
fell, your head struck a block of wood in
the street. I was taken up unhurt. But
hush you must not speak—your physician
forbids rt.'
Mary scarcely left my bedside until my
recovery, which was very rapid; for in a
few' days I was on my feet. I was by this
time deeply in love. 1 loved ardently,
devotedly; and perceived that my passion
was reciprocated. Time flow—we were
betrothed. I was happy in Mary's socie
ty. She was happy in mine—we wore
happy no where else. A month had passed
by. The day set (or our union arrived.—
The company had collected—the priest was
ready- 7 we stood before him—the ceremo-
ny was began. Suddenly a thought seized
me—l snatched the veil (which 1 doubted
not, concealed the loveliest, the most angel
ic features, under theisun,) from tier fa . ce,
and, oh! the horror of that moment, it was
black. Yee, as black as the ace of spades.
I rushed from the house, leaving the aston
ished company too touch surprised to fol
low, and in two hours was ascending the
Mississippi river as fast as steam could car
ry me.
'0! God, she cannot be an African; and
yet she is black! And I hove loved that
being to distraction! I deserve the whole
of it—l might have known that the eternal
black veil hid some distortion or deformity!
But, to have been thus duped; is enough to
distract one possessing a much greater
proportion of patience than I ever did. I'll
forget it all, and go home, and content my.
self!'
Two years passed by; all of which time I
had been at home, to take the world easy,
and to do things as 'people did. This I
found to be no easy task; for all my previ•
ous life had been spent in a hurry. I had
long since given up all idea of binding my•
selfin wedlock's holybonds. I had become
disgusted with the fair sex, since I had
been so completely duped; as I thought I
had been.
0! memory! thou choicest blessing,
When joined with hope, when still possessing,
But how mush cursed by every lover,.
When hope is fled and passion's over,
Business called me to New Orleans. 0
how vividly did each object - that met my
view, bring before my memory the scenes
I had witnessed there, and the part I had
acted in those scenes two years before. I
felt unhappy, I know not why. Mary Wil•
son, to be sure was presented frequently to
my imagination; but not as a loved object
—rather as one to be hated, which had ma
tonally diMurbed my peace.
One evening I was walking the street—
attending to some business—when 1 saw a
lady whom I knew to be Mrs. Wilson, co-
ming towards me. 1 attempted to pass un
noticed, but she recognized me.
'Follow me,' said she, mildly.
I followed mechanically; we walked on
in silence until we reached a house, which
knew to be the one from which I rushed so
precipitately, two years before.
'0! Mr. Arlington,' said she, as we en
tered show fortunate it is I met you. There
has been au awful mistake; we acquit you
entirely of all blame. 'Twits our lolly cau
sed it—but all shall be explained. Remain
here until I return.'
She left me—l felt bewildered. I could
not imagine what was to come. However,
I resolved to await the result, and to be pa.
tient for once. She returned, Arid taking
me by the arm, conducted me through sev
eral rooms.
'Softly,' said she, pointing out to me a
door which was loft a little ajar. 'Look
through there.'
I looked, and saw the loveliest Woman I
ever beheld, sitting in profile to me. • She
was deadly pale: and I thought I detected
on her cheek, the traces of tears stood like
one entranced. I moved not—l scarcely.
breathed, for tear of disturbing the lovely
object of my silent admiration.—Mrs. Wil-
son took my arm, and led me away into an•
other room.
'The lady you saw in that room is—'
'The most lovely being I ever beheld,'
said I interrupting her. 'For mercy's sake'
toll me the meaning of this.'
'lt shall all be explained in dun tune, sir.
The lady you just saw is Mary Wilson, (be
silent till I got through,) my daughter, the
lady whoso life you saved—the one to
whom you were nearly linking your late,
and whom you supposed to be a negress.'
'For heaven's sake, madam, let me throw
myself at her feet and ask her forgiveness.?
'Wait a moment, sir, till I get through
She has loved, and still loves you to dis
traction.'
'The explanation is sufficient; tell the
rest at some other time. Let me see my
much injured Mary!'
Mary had heard me talking, and had
come out to see what was the matter. She
arrived at the door of the room in which we
were, just as I made my last exclamation,
recognized me, rushed lot ward and fainted
in my arms.
It seems that a few days before my see
ing her at the Cathedral, Mary Wilson had
in a whimsical humor, vowed never to un
veil her facia before, or permit it to be seen
by any man, until she had changed her state
from single to that of double blessedness;
and, in order that she might the more
strictly and guardedly keep her vow, she
had covered her face, hands and neck, with
a strong chemical solution; the consequence
of which was the changing her skin from a
very fair complexion to the sable of Afri
cans. She would fain have retracted her
vow after becoming acquainted with me,
but as a Catholic she held it sacred, so she
continued to apply the nitrate of silver until
the day appointed for our marriage, intend
ing to reveal the secret after the ceremony.
I recollected that she always wore gloves,
and kept here neck covered in my presence.
* 1 *
The fire was burning cheerfully on the
hearth, 1 had just finished perusing the last
Courier. AI) wife (1 was married) was en
gaged at needle-work, when suddenly 1
thought of New Orleans, and, as a conse•
quence, the black veil.
'Mary,' said I, turning to my wifo,
'where ir that singular, impenetrable black
veil you used to wear?"
Smiling she disappeared, and returned
in a few moments, bearing in her,hand the
identical veil which had been the cause of
so much unhappiness.
have kept it,' she said, 'as a memento
of my folly.'
'And wo will keep it,' returned I 'as n
memento of what I was very nearly losing,
namely—the dearest object of my exist.
once, by being in too great a hurry.'
And now, when i get in a humor to do
any thing in too great a burry, I go and
look at—the black veil.
...woe . 9.....
CURIOUS AND INTERESTING COINCI
DENCE
On the 4th of March, 1830, and just
about the hour of 12 o'clock on that day,
the honorable Jorm M. CLAYTON, than a
Senator from the State of Delaware, in a
speech on Mr. Foot's resolution, made the
following remarkable prediction in regard
to the future destiny of the present Presi.
dent of the United States, then the recalled
Minister to Columbia which was, on the
4th of this month, fully verfied.
Mr. CLAYTON first observed Nitioihor year
has rolled away—our Ides of March are
come. This day, which is the anniversary
of the Chief Magistrate's Inauguration,
brings with it some strange reminiscences
of the past, and fume still stranger anticipa
tions of the future. On the last 4th of
March, and at about this very hour of the
day, the American Senate followed the
American President, in the progress of his
stately triumph, to that scene where, in
the presence of the assembled thousands of
his countrymen, he proclaimed to the world
the principles upon which he intended to
administer the Government. Independent.
ly of the fact that the whole subject has
been thrust into this debate, there seems
to be some propriety in devoting a portion
of the passing hour to the consideration of
the extent and influence of Executive au•
thority."
The honorable Senator then proceeded
to comment on thetobuse of the power of
removal from office, and put this case:
"Inform us why the gallant Harrison,
the Hero of Fort Moige, the victor at Tip-
pecanoe and the Tharnes,a veteran in coun
cil as well as in the field, distinguished for
his virtues in all the relations of the citizen,
the soldier, and the statesman—why, I ask,
was he proscribed as unfit to represent his
country abroad,and withdrawn from Colum
bia;to-ni4ke room for Thomas P. Moore!—
He had eearcely arrived at Bogota—the ink
was still fresh on,,the Executive record
which informed the. President that it was
the advice of the Senate that he should rep
resent us the+ when the order for his re
moval was announced. This could not have
been done for any official misconduct. There
had been no time to inquire into that. Was
his fidelity distrusted then? Or how did
the public good require his dismissal? Think
you it will tell well in the annals of history,
that he who had so often parilled life and
limb, in the vigor of manhood, to secure
the blessings oflibert3 to others, was pun
ished for the exercise of the elective fran
chise in his old age? Sir, it was an act,
disguise it as we may, which, by holding
out the idea that be had lost the confidence
of his country, might tend to bring down
his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.—
But the glory he acquired by the campaign
on the Wabash, and by those hard-earned
victories for which he received the warm
est acknowledgements of merit from the
Legislature of Kentucky, and the full mea
sure of a nation's thanks in the resolutions
of Congress, can never he effaced; and any
effort to degrade their honored object will
recoil on those who make st, until other men
in better days, shall properly estimate his
worth, and again cheer his declining years
myth proofs of his country's confidence and
gratitude."
On the 4th of March, 1841, and at the
very hour ofthe day when this prediction
was made eleven years ago. Wm. Henry
Harrison, the proscribed Minister to Colum
bia, in proof of his country's confidence and
gratitude, was inaugurated the President of
the United States; and his proscribers were
taught that the effort to degrade the honor
ed object of their proscription has fully ro
coiled on all who made it.
That the prediction is precisely quoted,
see the Register of Debates, vol. 6, part 1.
page 242 i March 4, 1830.—Nat. let.
Scvnan 11.critmc.--On the day of tho in
auguration, among the multitude who called
to pay their respect to Piesident Harrison,
was a junior officer of the. Navy, who was
quite inebriated. The President, with a
piercing eye, saw his situation, and said—
'Sir, I am very sorry to see you or any per
son in your condition here.' It is needless
to say that the officer retired apparently
cut to the quick. This circumstance we
know to bo true.—.N. Y. Express.
The hundreds of idle young men scatter.
ed throughout the country, and lounging
about our large towns furnish indisputable
evidence that many of the rising generation
are contracting habits which, in oiler life
must cause a large amount of sorrow and
wretchedness. Labor is not respected as
it should be, and the consequence is, that
idleness takes the place of industry, and
poverty, ghastly and wretched, that of
cheerfulness and content.
EXACTLY so.—The Boston Post says that
two advertisements were recently published
in a newspaper one for a clerk in a store,
the other for
,an apprentice to learn the
blacksmith's trade. The number of appli
cams in one day for the former place, was
FIFTY; for the latter not ono.
AN APT ILLUSTRATION.-A person ask
ing how it happened that many beautiful
young ladies took up with indifferent hits.
bands, after many fine offers, was thus aptly
answered by a mountain maiden: A young
friend of hers requested her to go into a cane
broke and get him the handsomest reed.—
She must get one going through without
turning. She went, and coming out,brought
him quite a mann reed. When ho asked
her if that was the handsomest reed she
saw, "Oh no," she replied, "I saw many
finer as I went along, but I kept on in hopes
of ono much better, until I got nearly
through, and then I was obliged to take up
with any one I could find--and got a crook.
ed one at last."
A. A. P.
Disrurcs.—W hen we are in a condition
to overthrow falsehood and error, we ought
not to do it with vehemence, nor insulting
ly, and with an air of contempt; but to la 3
open the truth, and with answers full of
moderation and mildness to refute the false
hood.
Honninr.n BIIIINING.-A little after sev
en last- night a messenger came to the
Watch House requesting Captain Furman
to repair with medical assistance to the
house of John Thatcher, near the Canal.—
On reaching the house, a little child nearly
it year old, was found lying on the floor near
the door, in the agonies of death from the
burns it had received, and its wretched
mother was sitting on the edge of the bed
' with her right side, breast and face burned
nearly to a crisp, and in a state of beastly
intoxication, approaching to utter uncon•
sciousness. Before any medical assistance
was rendered the child died, and the moth.
er is expected to live but a few hours—
The child is supposed to have fallen into
the fire, and the woman, with an instinct of
maternal feeling, which even 'intoxication
could not utterly extinguish,probably caught
up her offvring, and held it to her breast,
and thus communicated the flames to her
own clothes. It was a sad and horrible
exemplification of the curse of internper
ance.—Btrfale Com. Adv.
A NOVEL SPECULATION.—The Whee.
ling Times says,—" %V hen the steamer Ut
ica was coming up to the landing on Friday
last, full of passengers, a stranger in the
city went to one of the stage offices and en
gaged thirteen seats, paying for them on the
spot. He then sold them out at from five
to ton dolliirs advance. That was a very
mean way of shaving."
AN OLD NEWSPAPER.—There is nosh
ing more beneficial to the reflecting mind
than the perusal of an old newspaper.—
Though a silent preacher, it is one which
conveys a moral more palpable and forcible
than the most elaborate discourse' As
the eye runs down its diminutive and old
fashioned columns and peruses IV !mint
advertisements and bygone
the question forces itself on the mindl
Where are now the busy multitudes whose
names appear on these pages! where te•the
puffing auctioneer, the pushing tradesman
WILL 02.1L11 arPoc6 BV:4a
and bustling merchant, the circulating
lawyer, who each or cupird a space in such
chronicles of departed Mei.? Alas, they
have passed away like their forefathers,
are no mole seen! From these considera
lions the mind naturally turns to the pert.
od when we, who may enjoy our span of
existence in this chequered, scene, shall
have gone into the dust, and shall foriikh
the same moral to our children that our
fathers do to us? Thu sun will then shine
as bright, the flowers will bloom as fair,
the face o(nature will bo as beautiful as ev
er—while, wo arc reposing in our narrow
cells, heedless of every thing, that once
charmed and, delighted us.
A sore footed pedestrian, travelling in
Ireland, met a man, and asked him, rather
gruffly, why tho nitles were so plaguy
long? when the Hibernian replied, 'You
see, yer honor, the roads are not in good
condition, so we give very good measure.'
CONSOLATION.-A couple of loafers were
standing upon a - wharf on South ' Main
street, last Monday. •'1 say said one,
'there's a new license law goes into opera
tion to-day—no - more liquor; for love 'nor
money'—' Well, I've got one consOlation;'
was the reply,'l got drunk enough last night
to hold on a week at least.-PrOvidenCe
Journal.
The Utica Observer says, that a new
article for stuffing cushions, sofas. mamas.
sos, &c. has been lately manufactured in
that city. "It is mode of common bass world
cut into fine threads, and appropriately
curled for that purpose. It is light and soft
and resembles a fleece of course ,woo); can
be produced with great rapidity. and at it
less cost than the cheapest of uther articles
now in use. •
FATAL Rescomrna.—A fatal rencontre
took place at Scottsville, (Allen comity,
Ky.)by which a person by the named
Porter lost his life. It appears that a man
of the mane of Borden put into circulation
reports discreditable to the' character of 'a
certain woman in that town; in consequence
ofwhich he was called upon by Mr. David A.
Porter, in eotnpany with his three seas and
was required by them to retract what he had
said, or fix a dtiy for his leaving the place
altogether. Borden,refused to do this, and
an altercation commenced. The Porters
had sticks, and one of them a pistol. - The
elder Porter struck Borden with n stick, and
at the same time be was struck by the , oth
ers. Borden drew a pistol, and was in tho
act of falling from the blows, when' he shot
the elder Porter in the breast. Porter died
in about ten minutes, three balls having en
tered his body.— U. S.
RAIL ROAD REVENtrE9o-...Th0 Railroads
in England yield a revenue of pnncely ex
tent. The Liverpool and Manchester,
which is thirty one miles in extent, ddring
the year 1840 yielded an income of $1,226,
680! The London and Birmitigham,which
is one hundred and twelve miles long. re
ceived $3,612,446, during the same period
of time. England is densely populated an.
of course the amount of travel on tar
routes exceeds any thinglii this country.
—Yet with the increase of population and
extension of business hero, all the greXt
railroads in the Union will ultimately be
come as crowded and as profitable as those
in Groat Britain.—ib.
MYSTERIOUS PROFESSIONS.—Under this
head, the New York Signal has the felicity•
ing professional dialogue.—"Now, Tom,"
said the printer of a country newspaper, in
giving directions to his apprentice, "put the
'foreign leaders' into the galleys, and lock
'em up—let 'Napoleon's remains' have a
larger head—distribute the 'army in the
East'—take up n line and finish the 'British
Minister'—make 'the young Princess' to
run on with 'the Duchess of Kent'--move
'the Kerry hunt' out of the chase—get your
stick and conclude 'the horrid murder that
Joe began last night—wash your hands and
come in to dinner, and then see that all the,
pie is cleared up." Some printers are
devils—and no mistake.
WELL &Norm:v.—The following extract
is some-what remarkable in its tone, con
sidering the source from which it comes.
It is from an article in the Canada Times
published at:Montreal:
"A true bill has been found by the grand
jury against McLeod for murder; conse
quently, he must now remain in confine
ment until his trial conies on. Had not
Mr. McLeod vain-gloriously boasted in *a
tavern at Lockport, New York, of having
belonged to the expedition sent by Sir F.
B. Head to destroy the steamer Caroline,
he would not now be where he is, and this
trouble and excitement might have been
avoided. Should an American citizen
come into Montreal, Toronto, or any other
place in Canada, and publicly declare him.
self to have been the murderer, or an acces
sory to the murder, of a British subject,
would he not immediately be lodged in jail;
and there kept until found guilty or moo-,
cent by a fair and impartial trial? We
have not the least doubt that it is the inten
tion of, the authorities of the State of New
York, todn him every justimand discharge
hits at:dnee, if proved innocent; as we e1m
....
not for.S-Innment suppose that the citizens
of that: State would be unit!) , of Ruch bar
barity, as to take away the lite of any nano.
cent person in read bin td, merely to gristift
their feelings of vengerinceior any ill treat
ment which they _have received (tons tins
British Govers.ruent ".