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THE GARLAND.
•• With sweetest dower earieli'd
From various gardens enU'd with tats.";
MT INICCITICEit.
My mother! bow that sacred name
Awakens in my bosom's core
Visions of bliss I once could claim,
But which I now may claim no more,
Bliss, such as mark'd my childhood's years,
• When wrapp'd in thy bolo 'd embrace,
I knew no cares, nor hopes, nor fears,
Beyond that holy resting place.
Mother! since those blest
How many changes timr - ibas wrought,
On all that met my childhood's view,
Or occupied my childhood's thought!
How many wand'ring steps Tire stray'd—
How many anxious fears endured—
' How often monm'd o'er hopes betray'd
How often smiled o'er bliss secured!
Yet though I've wandered far and wide.
Have quaff'd of pleasure's bowl;
Have launch'd upon ambition's tide,
And yielded to its wild control;
Still from the fondest, brightest dream,
Thai life and lope can yield to me,
Does momoty, with its magic beam
Glance back to childhood's hours—and thee.
I see thee, as, when by thy side,
I knelt in infant hours of peace,
And heard thy pray'r, that Heaen would guide
My footsteps o'er life's wilderness
That He, who dried the widow's tears,
Would fondly guard the widow's joy;
And through the lapse of future years,
Protect, sustain, preserve thy boy.
My young heart knew not then how much
Would be its need, in after time,
Of the strength pray'd for, from the touch
Of dark temptation and of crime
To save it—but I since have traria
Enough of life's bewildering snares.
To bless the power which kindly tarn d,
And hiten'd to my mother's prayers.
Mother! the prayers address'd by thee,
Filn with the fervour of thy love,
Have been a talisman to me,
To guard and shield—protect—reprove.
And now, when bending o'er thy tomb, -
Thy son affection's tribute pay;
Faith breaks triumphant through the gloom,
• And sheds abroad its heavenly rsym
It whispers that tby sainted soul
Frofn its high home beholds me 'WI—
And that thy love will yet control.
Correct and guide my wayward will!
That, at the mercy seat, thy PM"
Will fur the earthly loved ascend.
Until tberansom'd meets thee than,
His praises with thine own to bland.
maocamakatDwo
From the Philadelphia Betuday Cowie
THE GAM= Or Iku.sucurrs.
AN AMERICAN TALE.
P. Jammu.
my dear Sit, you cannot, certainly,
be in earnest."
"Yes, but 'I am though."
"What—gamble your daughter away'!"
"You can call it by what mime you
choose; it matters not to me. "You must
heat me at the game, or her hand cannot be
yours,"
"But that is impossible- You are the
beet player within ten miles around,isnd I
know little or nothing of draughts, besides
having a distaste for ii."
to Well, well, that is your own look out,"
replied the father, with an air of, impati
ence. "If you win her, she is yours; but
if you do not, my word for it, she makes
- . happy th 3 bridal evening of a smarter
Man.
,"B ut ,—"
aI tell you, it is 'useless to talk, John
Graham. My word is passed, and I cannot
be moved. If you Comply with my terms,
well; if not, there let the matter end."
This conversation occurred between a
sturdy husbandman.whose gann fringed the
romantic Oltillte of the Zusquehanna; near
Ott tielightfol village of Marietta, in the
itoprior opf Pcnnvitotnia, and a young
farmer, living near by. The heart of the
latter had been won by Anna, the blooming
daughter of the former, and after many
days of doubt and painful miegivrogs, John
Graham, for that was his name, made hold
to speak forth to the father his desire to
posseiss her hand.
Surprised, mortified, and discouraged at
his reception, the young man left the house,
without a parting word with Anna, and re.
turned to his own home, gloomy and de
sponding.
For three days, no one saw him beyond
the bounds of his owo farm. Anna, who
knew, of course, his intention, to ask for
her hand, was deeply distressed at his sud
den departure from the house, and prolong.
ed absence.
It was near nightfall of the third day.
while sitting at the cottage window that
opened towards the road winding up to the
house, that she was startled from a painful
dreamy state, by , the sound of footsteps a and
lifting her head, she perceived that her tru
ant lover was again returning.
"0, John, why have you staid so long
awayr she said earnestly, as she • bounded
out of the door to meet him.
"And why should I comer he replied,
moodily.
"Did not My father—" She could ut
ter nothing further, but coloring deeply,
leaned her head upon his shoulder.
"He refused me your. hand, Annul" he
said in the excited tone.
"0, no, John; he did _not do that, surely!"
said the maiden, lifting her head, and look
ing him, with a pale countenance, steadily
in the face.
"It amounts to the same thing, Anna.—
I must beat him at draughts, or you never
can be mine." •
"John Graham! you are sporting with
me!" And Anna drew herself up, while her
face, from which the color had so suddenly
departed, was lighted up with something of
indignation.
"As I live, and as I love you,Anna, what
I say is true."
"Then my father but sported with you,
in a merry mood," and the maiden tried to
smile carelessly.
"He was in earnest," said the young
man, solemnly.
"Then what can he mean?" asked Anna,
in a perplexed tone.
"Why be means to deny to me your
hand. He has, no doubt, other views for
his daughter."..
For a moment, Anna stood silent, and
then, leaning her bead upon the shoulder of
her lover, she sobbed aloud, overcome by
feelings which she in vain tried to keep
down.
Just at that moment, the sound of some
one approaching, aroused them, and looking
l ap, they perceived it to be Anna's father...
"Well, John," he said, in a cheerful
tone; "have you come to beat me at
draughts?"
Young Graham's face colored, and being
unable at that moment to speak, from con :
fusion, he looked upon the ground, and was
silent. But quickly recovering himself,he
replied
"I hope, sir, that you will not feel it ne
cessary to pain either your daughter's, feel
ings or my own, longer, by what I cannot
believe to be any thing more than a jest."
The old man's brow darkened. "I am
not used to trifling, sir," he said. "You
have heard my. terms. Let me assure
you, that they must be fulfded to the letter.
If you do not intend trying for her hand
in the only way that it can be won, then
give place, sir, to some more worthy sui
tor."
Deeply pained, as well as offended, at
what he considered equivalent to an insult,
repeated, Graham - turned suddenly away
from both father and daughter,and hastened
home.
It was nearly four weeks before the
young couple again met, and, then it was,
without concert, at the house of a neighbor.
For the first part of the evening, they seem
'ed shy of each other; but, after awhile.were
observed to be earnestly engaged in con
versation, as they priced the lawn in front of
the house, backward and forward, under
the love-awakening influences of a bright
August moon.
"Will you not consent?" said Graham be
coming more animated. ,
"No dobn, I cannot. I love you," and
her voice trembled and faltered; "but, leave
my father? 0, no; no.:lvey!"
"Then you do not lo—" But he pans
ed with the word unuttered. There was
an embarrassed silence of some moments;at
length the young man eaid, in a melanchely
tone—
" Then Anna, we had better see each
other no more."
"John, she said, looking him in the face
fixedly."will you not try to—'' But she
hesitated, and then hung down her bead.
"Try to beat your fhther in a garne,of
draughts, you would have said? Even, if
there was hope, Anna, of doing that, which
them is none, I could not give my consent
to so humiliating an act. What has the
plaYieg of a game skilfully, to do with my
making you a good husband?" ,
But this did not satisfy the ralnd Hof the
maiden. She thought that ber lover ought
to be willing to do any thing, uo matter
how unreasonable it might be, for the bake
of gaining her hand. She could not, how
' ever, say more than she had.
They parted that evening, gloomingly
enough. But the sight of her face, and
the sound of her voice, had stirred more
deeply in his heart the waters of effettion,
"Bbe must be miner he said to- himself,
passionately, as he strode homewards.
G. V7II.I3HINGTON 1307311, EDITOP. & PROPPIZTOII.
44 The liberty to know, to utter, and to argue, freely, Is above all other llberties.”—Mn.Ton
sanneireavvizas. zNa.. ultra/02)4z. 41/ZPJP,2I es. asaas
•
By degrees, but with great reluctance,he
began to entertain thoughts of applying
himself to the game at •which her father
was so skilful; and such progress had he
made by the next evening in his incipient
resolutions that he actually went over to a
neighbor's, and after sitting a while, propo
sed a game of draughts. But, although his
antagonist was bat a poor player, John Gra-
ham was beaten every. time.
'You would'nt do to play with old Wood
ruff," remarked his companion, after win
ning for the sixth time.
Graham colored deeply, as , he looked up
at the remark; but he perceived by his
friend's conntenance that it was innocently
made.
Much discouraged, he went home that
night, and dreamed that he had played with
Mr. Woodruff, Anna's fatter, and beaten
Nth. On the next evening he went over
again, and spent two or three hours in play
ing. Once he beat his antaganist. This
gave him hope, and as he thought of it the
next day, ho said to himself, "I have cer
tainly Improved a little, and if I keep at it I
.will certainly improve more."
"And old Woodruff will improve too, and
he is far enough ahead," whispered an op
posing thought, and his spirits sunk sudden
ly to freezing point. That evening he staid
mopihg and gloomy at home. But on the
next night he tried draughts again, and felt
an increasing confidence and sense of corn
ing skill. ,
Three weeks passed aw . e.y.ra practising
almost every evening, when John became
so much of an adept as to beat his friends
at every game. This made him feel quite
pplifted, and he determined to haie a trial
with Anoa's father. Bo he dressed himself
up and went over.
• Anna met him at the door, and blushed
with joy and nonfusion, The old man ex
tended his hand with . a blunt welcome, that
had in it some remains of his former cor
' diality. • .
Before tea Woodruff talked with Gra
ham about the weather, the farm, and the
stuck. After tea, at which little was .• said,
though many glances were exchanged be
tween the levers; the old man pointed sig
nificantly at the checker board, and Gra
ham, with a face suddenly flushed, , nodded
assent. •
Anna's heart beat audibly in her bosom,
and she felt oppre'ssed with a suffocating
sensation, as she saw the two draw silently
up to the table and begin to arrange their
pieces on the board. It beat quicker still
when the moves began,'end sank heavily in
her bosom afters brief passage of the pie.
ces from square to square—:for her lover
had lost the game. The pieces were again
replaced, and again the moves commenced.
But the genie soon terminated as the first.
Twenty games were: played before the
parties separated, in all of ,which the old
man won. Long before the termination
of the evening's, contention,. Anna's pulse
had beeome quiet; although a red spot upon
her cheek told that she felt none the lees
interest. She had not failed to perceive
that, with every renewed game, the period
occupied in contesting it became longer
than that which went before.
On the nest. evening Graham came
again,, and again the draughtboard was
produced. But, some how or other, he
could not play oven as well as he did on
the evening previous. Anna was disap•
pointed, and he could perceiv,o it, and this
not only dispirited him, but wounded• his
pride. He felt in no pleasant mood as he
returned home that night, half determining
not to lower himself again so much -in his
own estimation as to gamble for the girl he
loved• This half ormed resolution he kept
for a week, during which time Anna's
doubts an] tears all returned upon her, and
made her sick at heart.
But, much as he disliked draughts, and
much as he condemned , and even despised
the principal involved in the stipulations o
Anna's father, all-powerful love again pre
veiled, and he sought the htitne of his lady
fair to enter the lists once more for her
Wind. But it was with little Vetter success.
Still, there was one compensation for the
disappointments that followed every even
ing's trial—and that was, an hour ' s quiet
Communion with Anna; f or, as long as . he
would play with the old man, and try, as
he of course did, to beat him, he was a wel
come visitor, and allowed a fair opportunity
to tell over again to the maiden how fondly
he loved her.
Six months passed in , this way, and 3 oung
Graham began-to play with much skill and
judgment, and not untrequently a game
would last for a whole hour. On such oc
casions, the old man would slap him on the
shoulder,after he had beat him, with "Well
done, my boy! The girl will be yours
yell"
One day, About this time, it happened
that Graham, with his farmer's frock on,
was drivng his cart along the road that
passed near the cottage of his sweetheart.
Woodruff haPPened to meet him just there,
and maimed open, his stopping. Graham
came in, and after driolting a glass of home
brewed beer, made by , the lair hands of ker
he loved, the old man reached down the
ever-prOsent checker-hoard.
"This may be a lucky‘
day,John," he
said, looking him archly in he face.—
g4Have you a mind to tryl"
The first sight of the boaid always an
noyed the young man; but he stifled this,
feeling, as usual, and sat'down to the table.
For a little 'while Anna'stood looking at
the game, and then retired to attend to her
ordinary duties in the family. „The moth
er, too, soon followed, and fhe prayers were
left alone. The dog that had partaken of
the general feeling of bustle on the entrance
of the young man, soon felt the quiet influ
ence of the room, and stretching himself out
upon the floor, seemed as deeply engaged
in thought as were his biped companions.
Not a sound was to be heard, except the
low noise made in moving the pieces on the
board, or the occasional quicker rattling of
them when one was taken. Graham never
before seemed to have his mind so clear,
nor to have so lucid a perception of the
principles of the game—and the old man
was as much absorbed in what he was doing
as ever. About every ten minutesof there
had been another observer in tho room, a
serious face might have been seen looking
in for a few moments at the window, just
behind the young man.
"Jupiter!" suddenly exclaimed the old
man with an uneasy movement' as his an
tagonist leaped over two pieces and into the
kingdom. The relative position of several
pieces in the neighborhood of this newly
made and first king on the board, was such
as to compel Woodruff in taking care of
them, to disarrange entirely his game, and
destroy his usual position of advantage.—
For a few minutes the flush of excitement
destroyed the calm, balanced state of young
Graham's mind. But he- perceived this,
and confined his moves to unimportant and
safe ones, until his pulse , beat more quietly.
And uow came the severest struggle yet.—
"Now or never!" thought . Graham, who
readily acknowledged that it was a happy
accident rather than skill to which he was
indebted for his present decidedly advanta
geous position.
For nearly a half an hour both parties
continued to play with such caution that
but a single piece was taken; but now each
seemed determined to bring the game to an
issue, and soon the board had on itnothing
but four kings—two of each. Just 'at this
time Anna came to the window, and seeing
the position of affairs, turned pale, and felt
a sensation of faintness; but she was rivett.
ed to the spot. The mother's interest, too,
had become excited, and she- came to the
door and stood also looking upon the board.
The old man sat with his hand to his mouth,
fingering his lips, h:s usual position when
deeply interested in his favorite game; and
Graham leaned his head upon his hand his
countenance, though abstracted, indicating'
a sadness of feeling mingled with hope.—
The four kings were near together, and
each was evidently intent on reducing the
number of the other to one, and then block
ilia b that.
After studying and culculatiog moves
for aboUt- five minutes,the old man cautious
ly passed one his kings to another square.
Quick as thought his antognist made a
move, and then with a long inspiration awai
ted the result.
"Jupiter!" again ejaculated the old man;
closing hie fingers tight upon his under lip.
A long pause ensued,- and at last the move
was made. ,
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Graham, in a loud
voice, lifting his head suddenly from hie
hand. He gave a king for a king, and hav
ing the last jump, so alighted as to com
pletely horn him in, or "block," the old
man's only , remaining king,—thus winning
the game at the last extremity , . "Hurrah,
hurrah, hurrah!" ho cried, and leaned back
in an ecstacy of deltght.
For a moment or two the old man seem
ed chagrined at his defeat, but he recover
ed himself quickly, and grasping the hand
of Graham, said—
" Now my boy, you have fairly won her,
and she is yours. Come here, pet," he
said to Anna, who apppeared at the door
pressing in by her mother, "and name your
wedding day."
It is needless to tell how Anna blushed,
or how her little heart leaped for joy in her
[bosom. leis of more 'moment to say, that
in one month the "twain were made one
flesh."
,After the knot had been tied, and the
young folks were full of noisy merriment,
Mr. Woodruff said to his new-made., son7,—
"And now, can . you tell, John, why I
made you'beat me at draughts before I
would let you have my little pet there, who
looks happier, and I hope is happier than I
have ever seen her before'?"
"Indeed I do not," said the young man
seriously. "I always felt it to be a piece o
uncalled for cruelty to us both."
"There' you were mistaken, my
replied the old man smiling. "You have
one defect of character, and I saw it. You
distrust your nwo powers. It was but one .
week before you asked • me, for `Anna'a
hand, that, in a conversation, you told me
that you could not do a certain thing. It
involved difficulty and application, but still
it was necessary that'you should do it, Or
trust to some one else to do it for yon, =who
would then have it in hie power to deceive
you.
,I ,determined then, that as soon as
you'asked for my child, 1 would put your
love arid your powers of mind both to a test,
and prove to you that you could do any
thing in the range of human capacity, if
you tried. Have I not succeeded in show:
log to yOu that` "I can't" are words not to
se used in your dictionary!"
The young man looked his monitor in
the fact) with silent surprise—mid the latter
added
"And now, my dear boy, 1 trust that
you will never 'again doubt your natural
ability when brought •in '
comparison' ,with
the natural powers of. another. PatienCe
and perseverance will , surmount all abate
clea. Make these your companions, and
you will fast rise to intelligence, influence
and usefulness, above .the crowd who ate
content to be ignorant."_,
IF I WERE LIE
If I were a' farmer, I would devote al)
whole ,attention to the cultivation of my
farm, clothe and feed my family well, take
care of my stock, take a fair price for my
produce, and never Indulge in idleness and
dissipation.
If I were a lawyer, 1 would not charge
a poor man five dollars for a few words of
advice.
If I were a physician, I could not have
the conscience to charge as much as they
do for feeling the pulse, extracting a tooth,
taking a little blood, or administering a dose
of calomel and jallap.
If! were a merchant, I would have an
established price for my goods, and not un
dersell or injure my neighbors. I would
sell at a moderate profit, . and give good
*eight and measure, and deal as honest as
possible.
If 1 were a mechanic, 1 would apply my.
self industriously to my business, take care
of my business, refrain from visiting taverns
and grog.shops, when I promised a man to
have hie work done by a time, I would en
deavor te be-punctual.
If I where a young buck, with long hair,
would not cut as many ridiculous capers
as some ofthem do, playing with their watch
chains, flourishing with their rattans, strut•
ling and making a great noise with their
high.heeled boots, (probably not paid 160
and making remarks on plain and worthy
people. They render themselves contemp•
tible in the eyes of the sensible and linos
,
suming.
If I were a young lady, 1 would not be
seen spinning *greet yarn every day,ogling
thid young fellow, nodding at another, 'and
giving sweet smiies to a third--sometimes
having three holes in olio stocking and two
in t'other.
111 were a lover, 1 would be true to the
objcct of my aff'ections, treat her with the
greatest tenderness, and never let her con
duct towards another excite jealousy in my
breast. But should she ever speak of me
in terms of disrespect, or coolness, I would
be offlike a shot out of a shovel, and all her
arts could not again betray me.
If I were an old bachelor, I would , make
every exertion in my power to get married,
and, if I failed, I would buy a rope and hang
myself.
And, finally, Messrs. Printers, if I were
one of your useful and iespectable profes
mons, I uevor would refuse publishing pieces
like this. •
THE WAY ,TO WORK IT.
Mr. Drew, the editor of the "Maine Cul.
tivator," published, at Hallowell, in that
State, gives the following account of his own
husbandry. His farm is not a very exten.
sive one, but his nett:income from it is grea
ter than that of some of.our farmers, who
almost starve on .their three or four hundred
acres: •
"The editor actually, cultivates but a sin.
gle acre of land, but that he does cultivate,
and makes it yield all that land can yield.
Nor, small as , the quantity is, is the amount
of subsistence obtained from it unimportant
in the support of a large family. One third
of as acre he devotes annually to corn—the
long.eared, large clevelled, eight rowed
yollow corn,
that is not very early, and not
very late. With him, it has ripened every ,
year for the last ten years that he has cul
tivated it. The soil be makes rich. lie
applies to it, before ploughing,at the rate.of
eighteen or twenty cords of long manure to
the acre, (or six to the third of an acre) and
turns it under by the plough. He plants
the hills three feet and, a half apart one way
and three , the other—remedy by. measure
meat with a line. In each hill he deposites'
either a shovel full of - old, rotted 'hog man
ure, or an Much flight , manure - as will not
over stimulate the crop. From this third
of an acre he has raised on the average for
years, over thirty bushels of sound Corn for
grinding, beside/ ,it little pig corn for 'the
hogs in the fall of the year. This is an
much corn as 110 2 needs in his family, be-
sides a sufficient surplus for fattening one ,
large or two small hogs. , From the same
land, he ordinarily obtains some two or three'
hundred pumpkins, which serve; important
purposes in the family, besides being an ex
cellent article for boiling up with the hogs'
potatoes, giving cow, arc.. From the same
land, too, he has generally obtained. all the
dry.
_white beans he has needed in hie family
to go with his pork-which be raises by the
avails of big land, without purchasing of oth
ers. ~The fodderis carefully cut and cured,
and helps as a subsistence for the cow. So
much for one,third of an acre.
A, small portion of land is set apart for the
cultivation of. onions. Ordinarily, .he has
raised from; fifty to seventy five bushels on
a .bed, say half a dozen rods square. These
he sells, on the average, at one dollar per
bushel-r-say for 060 per year. This pur
chases his flour and rye at common prices.
So that from the first third of an acre,.and
in an onion bed. he raises - MI his bread—
brown and white.
On two other beds, ho grows generally
about fifty 'bushels of Mengel Wurtzel and
Carrots. These are for the cow's winter
provender. They more than pay for them•
selves in the milk and butter—to say noth. ,
mg in the saving of bay and other proven:
der. With a very little hay, together with
the fodder and roots, a good cow—and he
'finds it econenay always .to , keep the best—
may be kept throigh the winter, . ,
Potatoes for summer and auturnn,ute, are
planted on the margins, and wherever ta there
is a vacant chance for a hill s aud ' depart
,
. , ,
meat is expressly ' devoted to them large*:
nough to raise all that - are wanted flu the
table, and enough to spare for the hogs, dire.
wvitahritcpui 80439
Then the rest of the land iii deiotedto to
many things to mention here—heets, - Otre•
nips, cabbage, turnips, peen beans,...
green corn; cucumbers, melenif;- squasheiir
summer and•winter sorts, Arc., besides fruits
and flowers of various kinds—mm*4in)-
berries, currants, white; red, blaclt ind . yet ,
low; English and common goeiAeiriett—
and a few choice apple, pear, pluin, cherry,
peach and quince trees. • Alt' this frOM a
single acre; whiCh he cultivates mostly with
his own hands. •
.
NATIVE( CAirrok Ori.—We were'
not .
aware till very lately of the extent to which
this article is manufactured:in Illinois:7-
A Thousvid Bairela are annually made in
Randolph coonty, -as we have recently
been informed. Castor beans are cultiva.
led to considerable extent in 'other counties
in the southern part of the state, but what
quantity of oil ismanufactured'we are
to say. Twenty buihets , to the- acre,
are considered: anaverage yield; and'bell at
from el to 81,25 per bushel. They are
thought to be a good preparatory:crop - for
the different grains as they leave 'the' iioil
in a good state, without in the least exhatist
ing it. This article hag one "edVarita - ge,
over most other productionsV the', greater
pert of the work of harvesting cult be - done
by children, without interfering/ with the
ordinary operations of a farm.. Great care,
however, must be used •iedrying ' and eheds
or other outbuildings are reqUiliite for this
purpose. The season so far south se 'Ran
dolph county, our infer - Mani states, is about
two weeks in advance of its coming in this
latitude and the cold adutume deleyed ,
two weeks longer. = 'lie gave it sells opin
ion that, in consequence of this, the beans
would not hive sUfficient time' to come to
[ Maturity here. But if the season
what shorter the growtlC•of vegetation is
more rapid when if commeeeep) and . " , no
doubt is entertained by , those conversant
with the subject,lhat our climate is - Well
adapted to this production
Some people are apprehensive that: if the
cultivation of the castor bean were intiodifc
ed generally throughout tke state, no Mar
ket could be found for the oil, and imagine
that a thousand barrels eieri, the produce
of a single county, would be sufficient to
physic the world. This e: triliteke: Till
very lately 'it has been impored ' from -Eu
rope for medicinal purposes ) , and we believe
is yet to some extent. But•whe,D this want
is supplied, large quantities of it Will be'con-
Burned as a substitute for sperm oil, `the
price Of which is yearly increasing;hiconse
quence of the destruction or Aisappearante
of the whales from which it is obtained:" To
clarify castor oil is e very si mple Progew,/
and then it is said to .give a clearer light'
than sperm, and to be entirely' free - from
otli3nsive smell.
, ,41. ,
A Lin ON VI
OLD AID 110—• lonely old
spinster, in one of the.eastern towps,one
walked out into a grove to pray . for that
which' forty 'years of simpering and smiling
had failed to obtaiir forlier, viz: a linsband.
Kneeling down with reverence, she began
to offer up hor 'petition, that the Lord would
send her a helpmate, whetir an Owlqierched
upon a tree over: her head,,eried out; "out
boo! hoot" She, believing that kir pray
ers were about being answered, eiblainied
in a voice trembling with emolionsol grati
tude and joy. "Any body, good Lord."
A Cunnisrric.—ln nothing lave we, for
a long time, seen those yankee peculiarities
—ingenuity, and skill—so,fully brought, in.
to exercise as in the case 'of, the, manyiec-
tuxe of an article that btu . ; been exhibited
to us this morning. It consists ofa,benuti..
ful handkerchief, of a rich Material, which
we take to be silk, upon which is traced a,
map 'of the United Stateteall the States,ehe
principal rivers, toWns,r4;ct are deeig9eted,
and it cannot but be a useful article if brought
into general
•
•
To ascertain the length or the diy and
night, et tiny time ni the year, double the
time of, the sun's rising;.*hich - 41.*es the
length of the night; double .the.tirtio i nt his
setting, which gives.the lenity of the day.
A Spur:inn) Peesza:r.=-;Twopost
tilul Rcan horses, with manes and lads ae
white as strew,
.passed , Wilmington,
Del., on Monday, on their way to Washing
ton. They were fit* New York; and' in.
tended as a present to Predident TYLER
Phan. Gasetre. '
-~o,e•►-
AN' EVASIVE..-"•:-Well;pcia, did
you present that bill ior payment,'Whidh' I
gave you this morning? • '
Yea, your boner.
Well, what wall the . gentleinan's iniower?
Evasive, your honor
Evesive! what 'do you inettnl ' •
W by, your helper; hesaid ' ''Sc d=d
if he would pay it. • ' r'•
~
Lavirite PREAces.9 arta! ramterizi--
Lawirea:—LThe,Retr. David 'U Shattock a
Preacher and a Lavtici;' ie a candidate, for
the office.Ol Cr,tiveritor' fit oiwrippt*, ny
the constituflon:of:Oiel State, end' ire be
lieve, by that - . :krtiliiitipiiiii3i, kilinistii . is
ineligible t' atif — irtitneo —OutiflAtiCh
-0 4: 4 ...r
..
ing be an appendage to - lindlhtAimieletion
the mauls not; theiitectOiiiiiilitlihitd:'," 'The
eligibility then titnve winii tlia;poi At iv:*]ht,
is thtf: chief firreiiii*Vtioliii r ' thif.lit*fs
t‘' La*yeir•. preacOeir,,iit'ii,:Pr*.aiiir - tiffyor. ,
ki 1
If hi practice) law ,
iioisretkillie(6fiff '.'" ''.•
Awionall7, then 1* 14 letiNe't • Yip' 9
preaches"iiitory, outroty to.' At
eicalienally, then is he ixij'iliga, 4 4 o *
Herald , .