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THE GARLAND.
—"With sweetest flowers enriched
From various gardens cull'd with caro."
STANZAS.
Written on visiting my Birthplace after years
of absence.
BY WILLIAM HENRI ntrnx.stou.
We aro scattered—we are scattered—
Though . a jolly band were we !
Some sleep beneath the gravo'sod,
And some are o'ot the sea;
And Time bath wrought his changes
On the few who yet remain;
The joyous band that once we were
Wo cannot bo again !
We are scattered—wo are scattored!—
Upon the village green,
Whore we played in boyish recklessness,
How few of us aro seen !
And the hearts that beat so lightly,
In the joyousness of youth—
Some aro crumbled in the sepulchre,
• And some have lost their truth.
The Beautiful-..the Beautiful
Are faded from our track!
Wo miss thorn and we mourn them,
But we cannot lure them back;
For an iron sleep bath bound thorn
In its passionless embrace—
We may weep—but cannot win them
From their dreary resting place.
How mournfully—how mournfully
The memory doth come,
Of the thousand scones of happiness
Around our childhood's home!
A salutary sadness
Is : brooding o'er the heart,
As it dwells upon remembrances
From which it will not part.
The memory—the memory—
How fondly doth it gaze
Upon the magic loveliness
Of childhood's fleeting days!
The sparkling eyo—the thrilling tone—
The smile upon its lips—
They all have gone—but loft a light
Which time cannot eclipse.
The happiness—the happiness
Of boyhood must depart;
Then comes the scene of loneliness
Upon the stricken heart!
We will not, or we cannot fling
In; sadness from our breast—.
We cling to it instinctively—
We pant for its unrest!
We aro scattered—we aro scattered!
Yet may wo meet again
In a brighter and a purer sphere,
Beyond the roach of pain!
Where the shadows of this lower world
Con never cloud the eye—
When tho mortal hath put brightly on
Its IMMORTALITY!
IMILMaaIII,4I3IE6 ( DIIO3
ELOPEMENT,
OR MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.
"I have earned ten shillings British, this
blessed afternoon!" I exclaimed, with ill
suppressed exultation, as I threw down my
pen, which I had been diligently using for
four hours—(l was penning an article for
a certain monthly, dear reader)—and . 1
pushed my closely•written manuscript froni
me. Whereupon I ignited my cigar, and
&mending the three steps to my window
dormant, I seated myself in my accustom.
ea chair, and forthwith began to speculate
en things external.
It was that calm, lovely time, which Is
wont to usher in the twilight of a summer
Atoning. The roll of wheels beneath me
in the new road was ceaseless. Bright
forms flashed' by in gay carriages! The
happy, the gallant, and the beautiful, were
all forth to take the air on the fashionable
drive! Why was t not with the cavalcade?
Where was my Rosinantet *here is my
establishment? Echo answered "Where?"
I puffed away silently and Vigorously for a
few seconds, as these mental queries assail
ed me; and blessed 'soother of the troubled
o'h, incomparable cigar! my phileariphy re .
turned. Diagonally opposite to my window
stands one of the ,pr,iudest structures, of
red brick, with stone facings. This edifice
attracted my attention by Its simple ele.
gance, and eventually fixed it by a mystery,
that seemed to my curious eye surrounding
one of its inmates!
A lady of dazzling beauty was an inmate
of that mansion! and, for ought I knew to
the contrary, its only inmate. Every af
ternoon, arrayed in simple white, with a
flower or two in her hair, she was seated
at the - drawing.room window, gazing out
upon the gay spectacle the bustling road
exhibits of a pleasant afternoon. I saw her
the first moment I took possession of my
dormant nook, and was struck with her
surpassing loveliness. Every evening I
paid distant homage to her beauty. But'
she was not destined to be so worshipped by
all. One afternoon she was at her window,
with a guilt-leaved volume in her hand,
when a gentleman of the most graceful
bearing rode past my window. Ho was
well-mounted, and set on his horse like an
Arabian. He was what the boarding
school misses would call an elegant fellow!
a well-bred man of the world! a remarka
ble handsome man! . Tall, with a fine oval
face, a black penetrating eye, and a mus
tache upon hie lip, together with a fine
figure and the most perfect address, he
was what I should term, a captivating and
dangerous man. As he came opposite to
her window, his eye, as ho turned it thith.
er, became fascinated with her beautyl—
How much lovelier a really lovely creature
appears, seen through "plate glass!" In
voluntarily he drew in his spirited horse,
and raised his hat!. The action, the man
ner, the grace were inimitable. At the
unguarded moment, the hind wheel of a
rumbling omnibus struck his horse in the
chest. The animal reared high, and would
have fallen back upon his rider, lied he not
with remarkable presence of mind, stepped
quietly and gracefully from the stirrip to
the pavement, as the horse losing his bal
ance, Poll violently on his side. The lady,
who had witnessed with surprise the_invol
untary homage of the stranger, for such,
from her manner of receiving it,he evident
ly. was to her,- started from her chair and
screamed -convulsively. The next moment
he had secured and remounted his horse,
which was slightly stunned by the fall, ac.
knowledged the interest taken in his. mis
chance by the fair being who had been its
innocent cause (unless beauty be a crime)
by another bow, and rode slowly and com•
posedly onward, as if nothing unusual had
occurred.
The next evening the carriage was at
tho door of the mansion. - The liveried
footman was standing with the stops down
and the handle of the door in his hand.—
The coachman was seated on his box, I was,
as usual, at my window. The street door
opened, and with a light step, the graceful
form of my heroine came forth and descen
ded to the carriage. At that moment—
(some men are surely born under the auspi
ces of more indulgent stars than others).—
the stranger rode up, bowed with ineffable
grace, and—(blessed encounter that with
the omnibus wheel!) his bow was acknowl
edged by an inclination of her superb head,
and a smile that would make a man of any
soul seek accidents even in the "cannon's
mouth." He rode slowly forward, and, in
a few seconds, the carriage took the same
direction. The are no inferences to be
drawn from thisrreader! All the other
carriages pass the same route. It was the
customary ono. At the melting of the twi
light into night the throng of riders and
drivers repassed.' "The lady's" carriage
--(it was a landau and top was thrown
back)—came last of all! The cavalier was
riding beside it: He dismounted as it drew
up before the door, assisted her to the pave,
and took his leave! For several afternoons,
successively, the gentlemsn's appearance,
mounted on his noble animal, was simulta
neous with that of the lady at her carriage.
One evening they were unusually late on
their return. Finally the landau drew up
before the door. It was too dark to see
faces, but I could have sworn, the agues
train was not the stranger! Not. He dis
mounted, opened the door of the carriage,
and the gentleman and lady descendedl—
The footman had rode his horse, while he,
happy man! occupied a seat by the side of
the fair one! I watched the progress of
this amour for several days, and still the
stranger had never entered the house.--
One morning, however, about 10 o'clock,
A. M., I saw him lounging past, With that
ease and self-possession which character
ized him. He passed and re-passed the
house two or three times, and then rather
hastily ascending the stops of the portico,
pulled at the bell. The next moment was
admitted, and disappeared out of sight.—
But only for a moment, reader! An attic
hath its advantages! The blinds of - the
drawing room were drawn, and impervious
to any glance from the street; but the leaves
were turned so as to let in the light v of hea
ven and my gaze! I could see through the
spaces, directly dnwn into the room, as dis
tinctly as if there was no obstruction! This
I give es a hint to all concerned, who have
revolving leaves to their Venetian blinds.—
Attic gentlemen are much edified thereby.
The next moment he was in the ronm, his
hand upon his heart—another and I saw
him at her feet. Would that 1 had lee.
guage to paint you the scone! I then learn.
ed the "art of love!" 1 shall have confi
dence, I have so good a pattern; when I go
to make my declaration, the confession, the
acceptation, all passed beneath me most
edifying. Then came the Weal seal, that
made his bliss secure. . By his animating
gestures, I could see he was urging her to
take some sudden step. She at first ep.
G. WABEINGTON EOWZIN, Z.Zzeron, er. PZ,O7,RIZITOZ,.
ic The liberty to know, to utter, and to ar e me, freely, is above all other libertiee.”—MlLTox.
aamiezzszarmeo Fr2cla , a o t - Litirzszpitake9 avValß2
peered reluctant but gradually becoming,
more placable, yielded.
In ten minutes the landau was at the
door —they came out arm in arm, and en•
tered it. I could hear the order of the
coachman, "drive to St. George's—you
know tho church." "An elopement !"
thought I. "Having been in at the break
ing cover, i will be in at the dead!" and
taking my hat and gloves, I descended, as
if I carried a policy of insurance upon my
life in my pocket, the long flights of stairs
to the street, bolted out of the front door,
and followed the landau, which I discerned
just turning into Park Crescent, Portland
Place. I followed full fast on loot. I es•
chew omnibusses. They are vulgar!--
When I arrived at the church, the carriage
was before it, and the happy pair already
joined together, were just crossing the
trottoir to reenter it? The grinning foot
man, who had legally witnessed the ceremo
ny, was following them.
The next day about noon, a capacious
family carriage rolled up to the door ofthe
mansion, followed by a barouche with ser
vants and baggage. First descended an
elderly gentleman who cast his eyes over
the building to see if it stood where it did
when he left for Brighton. Then came
ono after another, two beautiful girls; then
a handsome young man. "How glad lam
that I have got home again, exclaimed one
of the young ladies, running up the steps
to the door. "Wonder where Jane is that
she does not meet us?" •
The sylph rang the bell as she ' spoke.
I could see down through the blinds into
the drawing room. There wns a scene!
The gentleman was for going to the door ;
and the lady his bride, was striving to pre
vent html "You shan't"—"l
say you slint"—"l say I will" were inter
changed as certainly between the parties,
as if I had heard the words. The gentle-
man, or rather luisband prevailed. t saw
him leave the room, and the next moment
open the street door. The young ladies
started back ;at , the presence of the new
footman.. The old gentle Man was now at
the door, enquired as he saw him, "Who
in the devil's came are you sir?"
"I have the honor to be your son•in•law!"
"The devil you have! And who may you
have the honor to be?"
"The Count
ineffable condescension.
"You are an impostor, sir!"
"Here is your eldest daughter,my
replied the newly made husband, taking by
the hand his lovely bride, who came im
ploringly f,rward as the disturbance reach;
ed her ears. "Hero is my wife, your
dough ter."
"You are mist aken,sir—she is my house
keeper!" •
A scene followed that cannot be descri
bed- The nobleman had married the gen
tlenian's charming house-keeper. She had
spread the snare, and, like many a wiser
fool, he had fallen into it.
Half an hour afterwards, a hack drove up
to the street door, and my heroine came
forth, closely veiled, with bag and baggage,
and drove away. The Count, for such he
was, I saw no more! t saw his name
gazetted as a passenger in a packet ship,
that sailed a day or two after for Boulogne.
How he escaped from the mansion rental
neth yet a mystery. Henceforth, dear
reader I must conscientiously eschew ma
trimony.
At the early twilight hour which ushered
in a beautiful evening in June, might be
seen in a furnished room in one of the foe.
tory boarding houses, a lady and a•,gentlo
man; they were dressed in deep mourning,
and had it not been for their close resem-
blance, they might have been taken for
lovers. -
We have said the room was neatly fur.
niched. There was a plain carpet on the
floor, a table covered with books and various
kinds of work, a piano, and think not, fair
reader,it was out of place, even there.—
Fresh roses wore arranged by the hand of
taste over the fireplace; and above them
hung a splendid painting of the brii , Homer.lt was highly prized by the lady, c 'but why,
we'are not permitted to disclose.
Ellen and William Gray, were Orphans.
They were the last di numerous family,
having followed their only sister to her si•
lent rest a few months before we introduced
them to your notice. Ellen had been em.
ployed in one,of the Lowell Mills tor a num
ber of years to defray the expenses of a col
legiate education of her brother. His stu•
dies were finished. He had been admitted
to the bar, and was about departing for N.
York to establish himself in his profession:
This was the last evening they could spend
together for a long time, and well did they
improve the parting moments. Many were
the hopes and fears they expressed, and ma
ny the promises to write to each other.—
The tones of the bell warned him it was
time to depart. Stepping to the piano, he
"Will you not furnish me with a song,
before I bid adieu?" She seated herself and
sung the following words:— '
Oh, say not so soon 'tie the moment to part,
That friends so united can give but a tear,
That fancy , alone n►ust recat to the heart,
The whisper of friendship so soon in the earl
When lips cannot utter the anguish we'd tell,
Our hearts feel most keenly, the silent farewell.
She could sing no more; the tears fell last,
and, turning to her brother, she said ( ' "for .
give this weakness; but my thoughts unbid•
den were wandering to other days,when
possesied all that the world calls happiness,
when peace and plenty were in our borders,
yl" with a bow of
THE COUSINS.
land the voice ofjoy and gladness was with
in our gates, when no days passed over us,
and no evening gathered its shades around
us, but we were called to the side of our
dear father, and taught to lay up our treas
ures in [leaven; to abide in the shadow of
the Rock that is higher than we; and, bro.
ther, has not God in mercy heard that pray
er? Our treasures were in each other, and
one by one, he has taken tLem . home to
Heaven. We are the last. But I have de
tained you too long already. I will bid you
good night; perhaps 1 may see you in the
morning, if not"—he anticipated her words,
and while a tear that did no). disgrace his
manhood trembled on his eye, he said, "1
shall not forget I have a sister in the city
of Lowell, and one whom I love most ten.
derly." .
Ellen continued to work in the factory.
She considered it no disgrace to labor for
her own support; it was preferable to eating
the bread of idleness, or to be dependent on
others. . Her evenings were spent in study,
or other • useful employment, for she was
never idle. Being contented and cheerful
herself, she made every thing pleasant a
bout her. She was never heard to complain
that her lot was a hard one; she rather felt
that she was blest in the enjoyment of health,
and had reason to be thankful that' her lines
were cast in pleasant places. Ever and
anon, she received a letter from William,
and nothing afforded her so much pleasure,
as the assurance that she was not forgotten
amidst the cares end troubles of this busy
life. He had been successful, and she knew
that she had net labored in vain. The star
c.f fame shone brightly over his youthful
prospects; all who knew him were loud in
praise of the talented and polished William
Grey.
. .
She received other letters, bearing n fnr
eign post-,inark, though they were like an
gel's visits, few and far between. With
what pleasure would she peruse and re-pe
ruse them, then lay them with others, in a
boi of curious workmanship, and were we
left to judge, we might have said that, too,
had seen a foreign port—for it was of shell
inlaid with pearl. .
Time passed en. The good brig Homer,
Capt. Percy, arrived in Boston—and shortly
afterwards, the papers announced the mar
riage
of Capt. Percy and Ellen Gray.
It was a dreary day. In a richly fur
nished drawing room, in a fashionable part
of the city of New York, was seated Amy
Clifford, on an elegant
,sofa, before a cheer- •
ful fire. She had all the happiness that
wealth could afford. Besides being young
and handsome, and fashionable, she posses
ed many good qualities, but I will not
enumerate them. 'So the mystery is at
length solved,' she said,. thinking aloud,
'Percy has not fitted up his now house in
vain; and has seen' proper to marry that
factory cousin of mine! How • could ho
fancy a factory girl! —ono so intelligent
and refined as he. She must be very ig•
norant and vulgar.' She was out of hu
mor with herself and every body else—with
Percy in particular. Though he bad man
ifested no interest in her, she thought it a
matter, of course that all should bow to the
shrine of wealth and fashion. It wounded;
her self love, too, to think that ho had pre
ferred a poor factory girl to her. 'I will
show off his wife's accomplishments,' she
pettishly said, as her mother entered the
room.
Mrs. Clifford was a vain fashionable
woman; and she felt a little piqued that
Percy should bring a factory girl to move
in the fashionable circles of society. 'We
will spoil his pleasure for this winter, at
least,' sho said; 'ho may teach her something
before another season.'
In a sunny little parlor, in a retired part
of the city, were seated Percy and his wife,
unconcious of the feelings of Amy and her
mother. There was no need of going
abroad for enjoymebt, for they found it at
home. But they had received a pressing
invitation to dine the next day at Mrs.
Clifford's about 5 o'clock. The rooms
were crowded with company. After she
had obtained an introduction to her aunt,
not indeed as a near relation, but as an en
tire stranger, a gentleman dressed in uni
form spoke to Mrs. Cliff.ird, who soon, in
troduced him to her neice as General Cor
bin. 'Allow me,' he said, 'to express the
happiness I feel in meeting with the sister
of my young friend Gray;' and he continued
taking her hand and leading her to a dis
tant part of the room. 'Allow me to in
crease that happiness in introducing you to
my daughter Elmira, wishing you friend
ship for each other.
!Who is she,' was whispered from one
to another, !that the General should pay
her such flattering attentiunt' She is love
ly and interesting,' said a young fop, as
he went to enquire of Miss Amy who the
stranger was. 'lt is some far_off relation
of my father's,' said Amy; never saw
her before.' 'Yes,' said a young lady who
was standing near, 'she is from the Lowell
factories, believe' The fop was crest
fallen in a moment; he never could absoci
ate any other idea than vulgarity with a
factory.' Presently Mrs. C. joined the
group, and she proposed asking Ellen play
and sing. 'From the manner in which
she has been educated, I think she can do
neither; and wo then will 'enjoy Percy's
mortification. !Ves, yds,' said the fop,
'we will quiz her a little, if you will lead
the way to the piano, Miss Amy.
Amy gladly consented, and - shortly after,
she sat down and Played a few moments,
as a better pretence for asking , her cousin
to play. When she arose, Mrs. Cliftbrd
insisted that Mrs. Percy should next bo in
order. She declined at first, but they
urged . her so much that she seated herself
and commenced playing. She had a good
knowledge df music, and practice enough
to play before her fashionable aunt. They
then asked her to sing, and she complied
by singing a simple and very touching.
melody. Silence was the strong Men of
general admiration, and Percy led away
his fair wile in triumph.
'Oh, what have I done'?" said Amy when
she was left.alone in her room that night.
'Flow have I fulfilled my promise to my
departed father, that I would seek out
these orphan cousins of mine, and, that my
home should be their home., But they do
not need any assistance now. Percy is
rich, and William Gray is one of the most
distinguished lawyers in the city. I have
often heard Gen. Cor'oin speak of him; and
it is rumored that he is soon to be united to
the fair Elmira. I have been sadly pre
judiced, thinking that all who worked in
factories must be impertinent, ignorant,
and in fact every thing that is disagreeable.
But now I see one who is self educatod,and
I cannot deny that she is accomplished; be
sides she is very kind and atTectionate.—
Another day shell not pass until 1 have
asked her forgiveness, I will tell her all,
even how I disliked her before we met.'
In her farther acquaintance with Ellen,
she found her all she could desire. Many
were the happy evenings they passed to
gether, in tallting.of the city of Lowell;nor
did it all terminate here. Twice has_ the
beautiful Amy Clifford visted the 'city of
spindles.' She was much, pleased with the
appearance el those employed in the mills;
and she advises all who 'are prejudiced
against factory girls, to spend a short time
in Lowell.
...wolf e e.....
THE DEAD ALIVE.—A FACT.
Some hypochondriacs have fancied them
selves miserably afflicted in one way, and
some in another; some have insisted that
they were tea•pots,and some that they were
town•clocks; one that he was. extremely
ill, and another that he was actually dying.
But, perhaps ] none of this blUe.davil class
ever matched in extravagance a patient:of
. -
the late Dr. Stevenson, of Baltimore.
This hypochondriac, after ringing the
change of, every mad conceit that over tor ,
[named a crazy brain, would have it at last
that ho was dead; actually dead. Dr. Ste-
Venson, having
,been sent for one morning
in great haste, by the wife of his patient,
hastened to hie bedside, where ho found
him stretched out at full length, his hands
across his breast, his toes IN contact, his
eyes and mouth closely shut, and his looks
cadaverous. . .
"Well, sir, how do you do? how do you
do this morning?" asked Dr. Stevenson: in
a jocular way, approaching his bed.
"How do I dol" replied the hypochondri
ac faintly; "a pretty question to ask a dead
man."
"Dead!" replied the doctor •
"Yes, sir, dead, quite dead. I died last
night about twelve o'clock."
Dr. Stevenson putting
his hand gently
on the forehead of the hypochondriac, as it
to ascertain whether it was cold, and also
feeling his pulse, exclaimed in a. doleful
tone. "Yes, the poor man is dead enough
'tis all over with him, and now the sooner
he can be buried the better." Then step
ping up tollis wife, and whispering to her
not to be frightened at the measures he was
going to take, ho called to the servant:—
"My boy, your poor master is dead; and
the sooner he can be put in the ground the
bettor. Run to C--m,for 1 know be al
ways keeps New Englad coffins by him
ready-made; and, do you hear, bring a cof
fin of the largest size, for your master
makes a stout corpse, and having died last
night, and the weather being worm, he will
not keep long."
Away went the servant, and soon return
ed with a proper coffin. The wife and
family having got their lesson from
: the
doctor, gathered round him, and howled
not a httle while thly wore putting the be.
dy in the coffin. , Presently the . pall bear.
ors, who were quickly provided, and let
into the secret, started with ,the hypochon
driac for the church-yard. They had.not
gone far before they were met
,with - one of
the town's people, who having tiiilp proper
ly drilled by Stevenson, cried out, "Ah doc
tor, what poor soul have you got there?'.
"Poor Mr. B—," sighed the doctor,
"left us last night."
"Great pity ho had not. left us twenty
years ago,"raptied the other; "be was a bad
man."
Presently another of the townsmen met
them with the same question. "And what
poor soul have you got there, doctor?"
"Poor.itilr. B—, ' answered the .doctor
again, "is dead."
"All indeed," said the other; "and so he
is gone to Meet his deserts at last."
"Oh, villianl" exelitimed the Man in the
coffin. . •
Soon after this, While- the pall-bearers
were resting themselves near the church
yard, another stepped up with the same-old
question again, "What poor soul have you
got there,doctor?"
, Poor Mr. B—," he replied "is gone."
"Yes, and to the bottomless pit," said the
other; "for if he is not gone there, I see net
what nee there is for each a place:" Here
the dead man, bursting off the lid of the
coffin, which has been purposely left loose,
leaped out, exclaiming, "Oh, you villianl 2
I am gone to the bottomless pit; am
Well, I ani come back again to pay vett
ungrateful rascals as you ate." A, chase
was immediately commenced, by the dead
man after the living, to the petrifying Can
sternation of many of the spectators, at the
V7 4 l.Etq)ZlotiapUo ZQaci
,
sight of the corpse, in all the .horror . ot'the
winding•sheet; running through ;he streets.
After having exercised himself into a copi
ous perspiration by the , fantastic race r , the
hypochondriac was brought home,by
Stevenson, freed from all hie complaints;
and by strengthening food, proper attentien,
cheerful company, and moderate mmicise,
was goon restored to perfect health.,
-••••••• •
RATIO OF REPIIESWITATIVED..--The ep.
portionnacnt of Representatives under the
new census. will'produce 249 members of
the House of Representatives, being an M.
crease of seven over the.present nomber.
At the ratio of nne member for every
60,000 inhabitants, Maine ,Massachusetts,
Now York, New . Jersey, Pennsylvania, and
Delaware, will each retain tho sante num.
ber of members._
New Hampshire will lose one;member,
Vermont 1, Connecticut 1, Maryland one,
Virginia 4, N. Carolina 2, South Carolina
2, Georgia 1, Tennessee 1, and KentuckY
1, making together a loss of 16
,members.
Ohio will gain 0 members, Indiana - four,
Illinois 4, Michigan 2, Alabama 1, Minis.
sippi 2, Louisiana 1, Mllisouri 3,, making
together a net gain of 23, or a net addition
to the House of 7 Representatives..
The free States in the aggregate will gain
sixteen members and loss 4; and the slave
States will gain 7 and lose 12; making a
net aggregate gain of seven Representatives
from the free. States.:
THE BIBLE.—The Old Testament. was
first written in Hebrew, and afterwards
translated, into Greek. about 275 years be.
fore the birth of Christ, by severity•two
Jews, by order of Ptolemeus Philadelphus,
king of Egypt. The precise number, of
the Hebrew manuscripts of the Old Testa.
ment is unknown; those written before the
years 700 or 800 it is ~ supposed: worn des
troyed by some decree of the Jewish senate,
on account, of their numerous differences
from the cepies then declared' genuine.—
Those which exist in, tho present day were
all written out between the years 1000 and
1457.
Tho following pair of,parngraplis will re
mind our readers of those Kilkenny cats of
whose exploits we hear so muoh:-
We seo that our neighbor copies a vile,
and wo doubt not; an infamously unfounded,
calumny of tho degraded scoundrel,, liar,
and poltroon,Prentice,againcit Mr. G. V. A
Forbes, of watches.— Vicksburg Sentinel.
This comes from that caned, culled, cow•
hided, kicked, nose•tweaked , thief of the
Vicico.burg Sentinel; a follow who has felt
the touch of nearly as many boots as the
scraper at any door in Christendorm—Pren
tree.
ABSENTSES.-1t is stated that at the last
session of Congress, the Yeas. and Nays
were called in the House of Representatives
one hundred and twenty4bur times, ani
the average number of members who re
sponded was one hundred and forty;fiv6.---.
As the House consists of two hundred and
forty two withers, the average number of
absentees was eighty : seven, or over one!
third of the whole number elected.
Tun SEWN AND... THE CROPEL—The,
Nashville Banner represents the Season,as
very backward in Tennessee. . eotton has
done badly there,. and poor stands are the
result. Corn has suffered much from_the
worm, which has. been more than usually
destructive, and rendered &second planting
necessary in most instances.
.A 0 kinds of
vegetation are later than:common. Z. , There
have, however, been.no severe frosts there,
end the prospect of an abundant fruit year:
wore never finer.
The Louisville Messenger stafes that the
season in that part of Kentucky, lies, on the,
whole, been cool and backward. The spring,
crops, generally, were put, in in reasouablo
time, but have r.ot come forward well. But ;
little complaint was made with reference to
the condition of Wheat, and fruit promised
a liberal yield.
,
The Norfolk ITerald expresses serious,
apprehensions with respect to the Corn crop
of Eastern Virginia, .The planting WIN,
done at'the usual time, but in consequene-o
of the weather the seed 40 not vegetate,
many cases, and replanting has been neces
sary. Where the corn did conae up it prth
scuts a . sickly appearance.
The Wiibash, Indiana, Courier ef the 22d
ult. says—" About a tenth of 'the corn mail
planted in thib ccunty has had to be plough
ed up and replanted, owing to the unfavera- ,
ble state of the weather. • We buiti heard
of ono instance in' which the uppeirance of
the white worm has caused replanting. "We
also regret to learn that the wheat c rop its
very thin and unpromising, owing,
pally, to unfavorable weather; but,itf, sortie'
instances, to injuries sustained by the' cats
worm last fall. '
A Sr. Loots Fait si !
Louis Pennant gives. the following speeinumt
of the fish stiories'ot that iegioni'
• , •
"A smell boy only 15 years old, caught
a catfish yesterdey, which weighed'' 152
pounde. 'After WO bad got bun
ed, the 'fishtriads nddreirlhe
e p tinge a
little fellow:under the water; nnittieirdain
,*
• ...
l'it3 • • .
weYPr:he scrambled nut agni; A tt i e
ha hand, and alter.a hardenntest,
ed in drewing'bis'piiie to . the' edge:4(lle
renter, -where a %Human ittritcldled, hint
rode. him Ilifi
ashore: "Neer "lOrtee't.tri
of her abed, and AlhitßY
alt 4 ,4
Nit Si. Liinis dbillengaii'thii'ltarid
duce better ceilidh."