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All Lettorsand Communications addressed to tho Editor by mail mustbe post-paid, or they will not be attended to. THE GARLAND. —I , With sweetest flowers enrich'd From various gardens cull'd with care." FORGET ME NOT. ST WILLIAM HENRY HABEIIION. The following little poem, written by the late President in his earlier days, ham a singular force at the present juncture, especially the simile in. *reduced in the two last lines.--Staten Islander. The star that shines so pure and bright, Like a far-off place of bliss, And tells the broken•bearted There are brighter worlds than this; The moon that courses through the sky, Like man's uncertain doom, Now shining bright with borrowed light, Now wrapp'd in deepest gloom,— Or when eclipsed, a dreary blank, A fearful emblem given Of the heart shut out by a sinful world From the blessed light of heaven;— The flower that freely casts its wealth Of perfume on the gale; The breeze that mourns the summer's close With melancholy , wail; The stream that cleaves the mountain side Or gurgles from the grot— All speak in their Creator's name, And say i , Forget pie not!" .Forget me not," the thundor roars, As it burst. its sulphury cloud; 'Tis murmur'd by the distant hills, In echoes long and loud; . 'Tis written by the Almighty's hand In characters of name, When the lightnings gleam with vivid dash, And his wrath and power ploclaim. 'Tie murmur'd when the white wave falls Upon the wreck.strewn shore, As a hoary warrior bows his crest When his day of work is o'er. From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier. T/1E UNFINISHED MONUMENT. An American Tale of the Old, Dominion. BY xug. K. ST. LJOX LOUD. About four years ago,it was my:fortune to spend a summer at one of the gold mines which abound in Staff3rd county, Virginia, and which, however dazzling its promises of wealth, proved any thing but an Eldorado in possession. Like some clever people, whose minds are rich in the sterling ore of genius, the spot presented an exceedingly unprepossessing exterior. Imagine a land scape of broken ridges and ravines, com posed of reddish sand and rocks, almost as destitute of verdure as the sand hills of Sa hara, interspersed with yawning pits from sixty to two hundred feet in depth, with the stagnant water standing deep and black at the bottom and you will have some ideas of the far-famed Rappahannock Gold Mines. The principal shaft, or opening; and the on. ly, eau in operation, is situated in one of the deepest of the little valleys, where a large building was erected, and a mighty engine pulled and panted like a thing of life, in the laborious employment of draining the mines and stamping the solid rock to powder, for a few shining particles. My ears were soon wearied with its unceasing din,and the monotonous "Ye! heave hot" of the degrees at the windlass; and my eyes with gazing on the vast heaps of rocks raised from the dephts of the earth,and piled on every side, their dark surfaces relieved by a plentiful sprinkling of mica, which would have seem ed to inexperienced eyes the real Simon Pure, but proving too truly that "all's not gold that glitters. At first I endeavour ed to relieve the ennui of my existence by calling into active operation all my sympa thies in behalf ot the poor slaves, thirty of whom were employed at the mine. I ral lied to' my aid a host of Northern feelings and prejudices, and by dwelling on the de graded and forlorn condition of these human beings, contrived - to make myself superla tively and delightfully miserable. But wh en I found that after all , the toils and hardships of the day, their nights were invariable more than half spent in singing, 1 dancing, and the wildest merriment, produ 'ced by excess of animal spirits, and the re mining half stretched upon the bare floor and benches of their cabin, enjoying a rest more peaceful and profound than many w'inse heads repose on pillows of down, I concluded not to permit my fine feelings to "run to waste" on those who neither need ed or appreciated them. Deprived of this source of interest, I commenced a serious of pedestrian excursions, which led me into many a sylvan retreat, where rare and beau tiful wild flowers bloomed thick and fresh; into forests of tall trees, whose statel3 stems were wreathed with the magnificent trumpet creeper, its large crimson blos soms gleaming from among the dark geen leaves like tropic birds at rest; and into many a tangled brake, where the luscious blackberry afforded a feast for the gather. ing which an epicure might have coveted. But at last every woodland path was ex plored; I had crossed the romantic' Rappa• hannock, rowed by a grey headed negro, till it ceased to amuse me. I therefore ac companied my husband on more distant tours. • On one of these occasions,passing through Falmouth. a small dirty village on the Rappahannock, celebrated only for its her• ring fisheries, and crossing the river on a high wooden bridge that seemed "tottering to its fall," we ascended the opposite bank and pursued our way through a beautiful and picturesque country, clothed with the luxuriant vegetation of June. About a mile from Fredericksburg, our attention was arrested by a pedestal of white marble, evidently intended to support a column, which stood in a field at a short distance from the road. It had apparently remain. ed in its present unfinished state for a length of time, as the broken fragments and blocks which strewed the ground were discolour ed by the weather, and no recent marks betrayed the chisel of the workman. No tree or shrub intercepted the rays of the sun which beat upon it• fiercely enough to have warmed the very reeessee of the grave; no kind hand bad planted the sacred spot with flowers, the touching memerials of aflection from the living to the dead; all seemed lonely and deserted. "Is it possible," thought I, "that the memory of the departed faded away before the completion of the perishing monument which ostentation would have reared?"--- Alas! I little dreamed that the dust below had rested forgotten, unhonoured, till the generation who knew her had passed away from the earth. A train of melancholy reflections wore awakened, and in silence we reached Fredericksburg. The hotel afforded' but few attractions either in situation or accommodations, and while dinner was preparing, I formed a so cial acquaintance with a lively, intelligent French lady, whose husband was pursuing scientific researches in the neighborhood. I soon found that she was au fart to all the little histories of the place, and the subject of the unfinished monument being upper. most in my mind, it occurred that she could perhaps satisfy my curiosity. It was with intense interest, therefore, that I listened tc, the following story given with a spright. liness and humour to which my pen must fail to do justice. Constantia Benton was the only child of a gentleman of great wealth, who resided in a splendid mansion a little below Fal mouth. An heiress, and beautiful, she was flattered and indulged from her birth; no wish was ever thwarted, no gratification withheld, while the troop of servants.whose sole business was to wait-upon her, was taught to yield implicit obedience to her slightest commands. It is no wonder that she grew up vain, selfish, and so effeminate (hat ber mother once gravely assured me, Constantin had caught a severe cold by im prudently sleeping without her gloves! At the age of sixteen she was moreover a fin. ished coquette, and the most capricious of human beings. The fame of hor wealth and beauty drew around her a train of ad. mirera, over whom she tyranized most un. mercifully, and could she have revived the days of chivalry, no one would have been permitted to appear in her presence who had not proved himself her champion by breaking a lance in her cause. As it was she exerted her power by requiring the most ridiculous and whimsical services of her devoted knights, who completely daz zled by her surpassing fascinations, to say nothing of more substantial considerations, obeyed her behests, though frequently at the expense of their own dignity. Constan tin Benton was in truth a creature of rare loveliness and grace. Her figure was slight, but of the most exquisite proportion; her dark hazel eyes , flashed with queenly lustre from beneath the pencilled arches of a bow that would have, graced a coronet; and there was a spell in the tones of her voice like the rich musical ringing of fine gold, that charmed every ear. Yet what availed nail? Constantia Bunton had no heart—at least it lay in an undiscovered region, so encrusted with the polar ice of vanity and self-love, that the humble devo- tion of the noblest and best among the high. born sons of the Old Dominion had failed to warm it into,life. A wandering gale, from the South may at last soften the iceberg which has for ages resisted the full rays of the sun, and the haughty coldness of the 'oiled beauty yielded insensibly to the in. flume of a !ewe of which she was altogeth or unworthy... A gay party was *trolling among the winding paths of the pleasure ground which extended from the mansion of Mr. Benton to the river's brink, their forms now hidden by the thick clusters of flowering shrubs, now emerging into the open plats, where their feet roved among flowers of every form and hue, while bursts of merry laugh 6 a. waszarroTorr 2077E1\71 MIDITOR & prtorramiron. The moil!, to know, to utter, and to argue, freely, is above all other liberties.”--114wros. orawaqrazattnes. Wati.oo Uql/ 3 2/634Ddirto utsPo),s9 19 aa.a,a. ter echoed far and wide. Gayest. of the gay was Conetantia Benton, as well as love liest of the group surrounding her, although many there might have vied with queens and princesses in their regal beauty. Nev er before had her voice sounded so thrilling in Its cadences, or her eyes seemed so deep ly brilliant, or her step so light and grace ful for she felt that the eyes of the elegant and gifted Charles Lorelle were bent upon her in unequivocal admiration, and she knew that he waited but an opportunity to utter the feelings that quivered on his lips. As they drew near the river they wore ac cidentally separated from their company. A tall althea concealed them from observe. tion; a few hurried, impassioned words such as fall from man's lips but once, and the love, the hopes, the wishes of Charles Lo. rello were laid open before her. "Constantia ' " he concluded, "do not • tri fle with me. Will you grant my request?" For a moment she was softened, for she really loved him;,she knew that he at least had not sought her hand from mercenary motives, and believed that ho alone of all who bad bowed at her shrine could make her happy. She hesitated, and her evil genius triumphed. Vanity prompted her to make one last glorious display of the power of her charms, before she yielded the empire forever. With a light laugh she stepped out into full view of the party, and replied, "When you have restored my rings" And taking a diamond of value from her finger, threw it far out into the deepest part of the stream. A small skiff was fastened to the bank— without a moment's hesitation, Charles Lorelle sprang into it and pushed out into tho rapid current, rowing vigorously, till he saw the diamond glittering like a star, among the pebbles many feet below the surface. Dropping his oar, ho plunged into the water, and the skiff drifted swittly away. The whole had been so sudden that the party on the bank stood paralysed with astonishment; but when they saw the noble young maul, who was a general favorite, struggling fearfully with the powerful stream, which threatened to carry him be. yond the reach ofassistance, all was confu sion and terror. The young ladies scream• ed, '•Save himl save him!" while the gen- tleman ran wildly up and down tho bank, in search of some means ofsuccour. One alone stood as if rooted to the spot. With a face blanched to the hue of marble, Constantta Benton uttered no cry; every faculty seemed to have deserted her, and not till Charles . Lorene, bewilditred and nearly exhausted, had gained the bank, did she betray a consciousness of what was pas sing by clasping her hands closely over her face. Putting aside the agitated group that pressed round him, he advanced to Constan• tia and holding out the ring, said in a low,but strangely altered voice, "1 restore the bau ble, for which you unfeeling risked the life I would most gladly have devoted to your happiness—but 1 claim not the reward. Farewell, Constantin!" He left the spot, and Constantin Benton was conveyed to the house insensible. After many weeks of suffering and deliri• um, she rose from her bed with a heart and disposition unchanged by. the severe chits• tisement she had received, and looking upon the past only as an unmerited disappoint ment and mortification, determined thence. forth to play the coquette for revenge.-- She emerged from her temporary seclusion more touchingly beautiful than ever, and was soon again surrounded by heartless flatterers. But the charm was gone which drew around her the truly noble and refined. She possessed too much penetration to be deceived in the motives which actuated the class of admirers who noW sued for her fa vour; she knew they were fortune hunters, and despising their pretensions, would yet listen to their flatteries with an air of plea. sed attention, calculated to lead the unsus picious dupe to utter all manner of extrava. gances, and then turn upon him with all the scorn of her proud nature flashing from her eyes, and send him abashed and quailing from her presence. About this time a star of more than ordi nary attraction, made its appearance in the shape of Mr. Edward Harly. Ho was, of course, soon introduced to the heiress and reigning beauty of Stafford county; and if the wisest head has been turned by the pow er'of beauty, it is not surprising that the head of Mr. Edward Harley, which was none of the wisest, should be thrown into a complete whirl by the bewitching smiles of the fait Constantia. His fine person, pre possessing manners, and the reputation of being the most flourishing and enterprising merchant. on 'Change, in the great commer cial city, rendeied _him "a "shining mark" for the display of Constantia Benton's ru ling passion. Although be had not "told his love," his attentions were so pointed and constant, that others stood aloof, and tier dear five hundred friends, with whom her marriage was a "consummation devoutly to be wished," predicted that this would cer tainly be a match, "Not without a trial," thought the person moat interested; "and I will enjoin him a task that shall equal those imposed by the fair dames of old on their devoted knights." A few, days afterwards she was riding with Mr. Harley, end with a tact peculiarly her own, managed that lus susceptible feel ings should arrive at a crisis just as they were passing that lonely rave which at tracted your attention. The result wets, that as a proof of the undying lore which he professed, Edward Harley ' was to im mortalize his mtstress by erecting a hand some marble monument over the neglected and almost forgotten resting place of "Of whom?" I exclaimed eagerly; "sure ly it is but a common grave." "But nut filled with common dust," re. turned the amiable narrator. "Is it possi ble that you know not the illusfrious occu pant of that tomb? But pardon me if Ido not inform you until I have finished my sto ry; it would spoil the denoument." Orders wore despatched for the necessa ry materials, and the work commenced.— Immense blocks of marble were transported to the spot at a great expense; but that was of minor importalice, as Mr. Harley wisely considered that the amount would never be missed from the coffers of his bride elect. That spot covered with the short brown moss of nearly a century, upon which the sun had shone in quiet splendor, till the memory of the dead had well nigh passed into oblivion, was trodden by rude feet, and its silence broken by the sharp chipping of the workman's chisel. Mr. Harley seemed aware of the importance of expedition,and in a very short time the monument had reached its present state. Unluckily he was sum moned away, and several vexatious delays occurring in his business, two months passed before lie was at liberty to return. At length all was arranged, and he was intending to set out in a few days, when his eye fell on a newspaper paragraph which blasted all his hopes arid left him deep in , the Slough of Despond, burthened with a debt which it would be quite inconvenient to pay out of his own purse. "Married, at Ferdinand Feath.. erwell, Esq., of Wisconsin Territory, to Miss Constantin Benton, of the former place. The happy couple immediately set out for the residence of the bridgegoom, in the 'far West.' " Mir. Edward Harley threw down the pa • per in a fit of disgust, and wrote to his agent to stop preceedings. If any thing could have mitigated the bitterness of heart with which the new bride departed from the scene of former triumphs, or consoled her for the loss of future conquests, it was the feeling orgrati fied vanity .vith which her last look - restedl on the Unfinished Monument. As it now is, it has remained for years, the rnonunient of man's folly and a Nation's shame." , "And, now pray tell me," said I, "who steeps below?" "Can you believe"—and her voice took a tone of solemnity that chilled me---"can you believe that there repose the ashes of the Mother of Washington!" "It cannot be," I exclaimed, with that agony of insulted feeling which every American must experience when he feels that a ray of his country's glory is stricken from her starry banner. "Does she .not slumber with her honoured descendents amid the hallowed shades of Mount Ver non? Does the Mother of the Mighty— she who instilled into the youthful bosom of our own Washington those high and holy principles which rendered him the God like—does she occupy a nameless corner of the soil won by the blood of her son?" "It is even so," returned my friend.— "Nor do I wonder at your enthusiasm. I own that I blush for my adopted country. when I behold the sums squandered on the worthless seekers of self aggrandizement; and see lofty columns rising to the very clouds in memory of some hero of a day,or event not worth remembering, while she who gave birth to the Father of his Coun• try, owes her only memorial to the caprice of a coquette." Remember, indulgent reader, that I do not avouch the foregoing tale to be "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." Ido but "tell the tale as 'twas told to me;" but it is no fiction that the Mother of Washington lies alone in a field near Frederickburg, and that, until within a few years, "no stone or pillar" marked the place of her repose. I have often passed the spot, but never without a sigh, and a blush of shame, that the grave of one more illustrious than the matrons of Rome, shodld be disgraced by an Unfinished Monument. ta INFLUENCE AND DUTIES OF ME CHANICS. BY CHARLES HOLDEN. Owing to the unnatural distinctions that have become fashionable in society, that numerous, and as all acknowledged, very useful class of men—smechanics—laborers with their tools and their hands: need to qualify thentelvea well, mentally as well as bodily, for their duties in life, or they la. bor to great disadvantage. I say "unnatu• ral distinction," and it is truly so.' GAM not institute it. It has obtained amid the other frolics of society. He has set the seal of honor to labor. He has eo constituted man, that he only who is actively employed can be truly happy. The idler is misera ble. No bread so sweet as that earned by the "sweat of the brow;" and who of us has not verified the proverb, "the sleep of the laboring man is sweet whether he eat little or much." Our Creator has never appro ved a libel so degrading to the laborer, as that his avocation lowers his standing in society! Not , at all. But to the ears of how many thousands, in this enlightened country, to the name Mechanic a word of reproach, and deemed a sufficient. barrier in their minds to exclude, him who bears it from what they call "good society"—unless he happens to be rich in this world's goods; —this obliterates from the memory of these exclusives the disgrace of having learned a trade! True, the ample mantle of charity should be cast over weakness so great; in dicative, as it often is, of the smallest minds: But is not always so—and th 3 notions are often entertained within a thousand miles of our city. They are prevalent all about us. Mechanics here got tinged sometimes with the idea that it is not quite genteel enough for a darling child, to be put to a trade— and that it would be a little more reputable for him to tend a store! Now no one will contend that all boys should be apprenticed to a trade, any more than that they should be merchants, physicians or lawyers. But few will doubt, that many lads are crowded into what are called the learned professions, who are as unqualified by nature for those professions, as some of the members of those professions are incompetent to make good mechanics. It is not any dullard that will make a mechanic—as it is too often thought. If there is a bright boy in the family, he must be classically educated—if there is a very stupid one, "why (say the fond parents) we must apprentice him to some' hard working mechanic, and he will probably be able to plod through the world!" With all proper deference to parents so mistaken as these, we, as mechanics, must say that a stupid boy will make as comp°• tent a professional man as mechanic. It requires good parts, and a ready, active mind, to master the principles of a mocha*. Ica! business. We can easily account for the unworkmanlike manner in which me chanism is often executed, when we reflect howgeneral the operation has been—"the dullard for the trade, if we cannot do any thing else with him." It is a disgrace to us as mechanics, to have it .ohtain that a mechanic can be formed of any "crooked stick of a boy." We should show a proper pride, by rejecting those boys whose only recommendation is stupidity—and whose parents think they are good for nothing but, mechanics! We should return the compli ment they pay our pursuits, by saying to them, your eons are too poor stock -for me chanics!" A talented writer exclaims,- in an article I have lately read--"lngenuity itself is thunder-struck at the countless methods adopted to retain soft hands." ' In an essay on the subject under consid eration, not long since published, the writer asks—Does the successful merchant make his son a mechanic? Veil seldom. Does the professional man make his son a me chanic? More seldom still. But does not the fortunate mechanic make his son the guardian of cloths and calicoes? Why is this? Is -the yard stick more honorable than the jack plane? Thegouse quill more dignified than the mason's trowel? But un fortunately the absurdity runs further.— Look back twenty or fifty years, and be hold the barefooted adventurer, at the pres ent time rolling in wealth, or spending his annual income of 2 or $3OOO per year in making ladies of his daughter. Does he teach them, the useful rudiments of house wifery? Very rarely. Is it because the healthful exercise of domestic duties is de grading? No.• False pride says, "it would be ungenteel for ladies to wark"—as if it would tarnish the fair hand, that plays the piano, to dust the instrument! How so preinely ridiculous is this pride! Thou sands of daughters whose mothers were reared in the kitchen, and their fathers in the barn yard, would feel insulted when asked if they ever made a loaf of bread, or mended a coat! They would much prefer to talk about good society—the extent of papa's wealth, or the splendor of mamma's parties! EMBARRASSING MORE OF DESCRIPTION. -It may be well to put young persons on their guard, against adopting one form of expression, which more frequently perhaps than any other loads to hesitation and oh. surdity, and which arises. from attempting comparisons before the object of compari son is decided upon. Instead of the conve nient descriptions—very high, very low, extremely rapid, remarkably, beautiful, &c. we hear, Ohl it was as high as—any thing. The moment the little word as is uttered on each side of an adjective the mischief begins. It was as dark as-- dark! I was as warm as—could be.— These (in another form of speech) exagger ations are sometimes resorted to for relief: ran liko---lightning: he roared like-- hunder; •it rained—cats and dogs; I was tired—to death. Yet these absurdities are less embarrassing to the speaker than the comparisons first mentioned. Ifat once hardness and adamant be thought of; a mi nute flame and a glowworm; a welcome stranger and the rising sun; or, in more fa miliar matters,roughness and a file; smooth ness and glass, dr.c.; comparisons may be very easily and sometimes very expressive. ly made. But hurrying into as as is an. other affair. The exquisite declared that thesoda water poured out 'for .him was as flat as flat board! A lady complimenting her hostess at tea.table,,ex claiming that actually the coffee was so fine, it was as clear as—a bell! Thus a clearness of effect upon the ear was applied to a description of the eye. And a similar absurdity was committed by the lover eulo gising to his mistress the brilliance of the moon, which made the evening as light as —really as light as— a cork! A DOUBLE-HEADED enrcaurt.-4be ed itor of the Norfolk Herald has hoen shown a atmnge phenlomenon in the shape, of a double headed chicken. It has, (says_the Herald;) two distinct heads, the bills pro jecting nearly at right tingles to eacii other, It had three eyes, one on each aide of ihe head, sod one in the Centre between the two bills. The formation of the other peke oft he body appeared to be perfect. WWO,ZZitt aPaa 80(1)(6' FRINCE ESTERTIAZY.-at the time this Prince visited Dublin, an English Journal made the following remarks:. "Dublin .has now to boast the presence, not merely of the richest subject, but of the richest fami ly, we may safely say, . in the. !lice of the earth!“--that of the Prince Esterhazy, Am. bassudor of his majesty the Emperor of Austria, to the court of London.. This great and effluent family enjoys a.revenne exceedingtsoo,ooo sterling per annum.— The very dress in _which . this .Prince hat? visited the several courts: of Europe, is valued at £1,000,000 sterling!--bis coat alone £2oo,ooo,—the hilt of his sword, at £lOO,OOO. We have the authority of Sir Walter Scott, for saying that every time the Prince wears this cosily .dress ' the loss in diamonds and pearls that fallfrom it, may safely be estimated_ at from 100 to .21.10 pounds. On the occasion of the Corona. tion, we , have it from the same, authority. that the Princess was — literally.` covered with diamonds. She wore as many as if they had been Bristolstones. To de scribe the splendor• Of the equipages of. Prince E.sterbozy, his numerous retinue,— his grand establishment,—his amazing and unbounded wealth, would tax credulity.— The dignity and wealthof his powerful fam ily, influenced a demeanor remarkable only for its elegance and suavity! He is we he neve a Hungarian. His daily income is upwards of 86,000. Box. JOHN BANKS.—We observe that a few of the Porter editors, for went of soine thing else to say, are complaining that Judgd Banks has not resigned the Judicial situation, which ho now occupies, with Aso . much honor to himself and. advantages, to the public. In order to ease the minds a ithese gentlemen, we • may. 'as well inform them, that it •the Judge consults the wishes of his friends on this subject he will not re sign.. No judge ever gave greater satisfac tion to the people of the district, nor do they wish, to dispense with his-services, became the Harrison party of the State have non+ noted him,as their candidate for Governor. It would doubtless be. 'a very pleasant thing for the present Executive to fill the office at once, but although J.. Madison Porter is 'a very clever fellow, a eharp politician, and writes a,good lecture, still, we haw) no• idea that the people of this county have any par ticular desire that he should , be their judge. The fact is, the Hon. John Banks, - was nominated by a, spontaneous movement of the, people;--personally he has taken no part in the business, nor does RAW within his sphere of duty, or intention,' to do so;in, flame.. As may be easily conceived, =he finds sufficient employment in : : attending-to the bmineas of the Courts of one of the tar: gest Judicial Districts in the Stateo Hellas Ino Mayor's Court, nor nistrictXdurt, to lighten ,his duties, but attends to the. civil and criminal business, great and smell, of 'three populous counties; and, his station ii certainly no sinecure. Instead of those political labors, which some persons seem to think_ must necessarily occupy the time of a candidate for Governor, the visitor of Judge Banks, will , find him , engaged :with his law books, busy in writing put charges, and in short, assiduously discharging the responsible duties which devolve upon him. And Lille man we are told, should resign, and iurn politician! . It has become the order of the day for every candidate, to be.questioned on every subject, by , every pereou who mat take a fancy that way.. Our present Governor, during the last gubernatorial campaign, made no reply to such interrogatories, lea ving his political ,course; (such as it was) to speak for itself. _ Without however, re ferring to Porter, we may say ta ' regard to Judge Banks, that the position which he now occupies, will effectually prevent • him fiom entering the field, with that kind of canvassing for votes, which may be inferred from a general political correspondence.— His public life, is before the people„—on no occasion has he been afraid to open his mouth and let lie sentiments be known.— The people in the East, the West, and mid dle portion of the State . know ,him, the•peo ple have nominated him, and the pl , ople will elect him. —Reading Journal. TIIELLUSON FAMILY.--•-TllO ancestor of the Thelluson family, died • in England about 130 yearn ago—directing Ikthis will, that his ' property should acconullate for 100 years; interest neon interest; and then, the existing Young 1 helluson to come , into possession of the whole. The period, ex pires in 1849. The present 54. Thelluson in 1828, was 40 years old; and poor; hi* son, the Heir, was 8 years old; so that,iri Ins 29th year , he will be master of 12 mil lions aterlipg, or upwards of 03 nalliorskof dollars. Parliament tried to set aside the will at the time, but could not,lhoy howev. er passed an act, that uo such. will should ba legal from that time forward I • „ ,Interest on 53 million of .dollars 83,180,000 per annum=-8265.000 per mouth-88,832 per day:74368 per hour—, $6 por minute. P's MW Q's,....The original - Vie phrase. "Mind your P'a end 'Q's, is not known. la Ale4muinis,where checkscores were formerly niat ktutupon die wall, b was, customary to Pot these initial , leipira tbek imid evgritioitesAsecnita. to shim .lha number of Piqta. and u' was in error"; and .4 1 0 me.Y PiemPt 4l .lf"'!,'4 ay. a friendly to have tappe d neigh boi'en thai *wider 'when he,,,uyl dulging too fierily in his' patatilietitisk.4 have exelaie ed, is he Nomad tohti scout. 64 Gilea. Giles, mind your P's and Q't!"
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers