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THE GARLAND.
—"With sweetest flowers enrich'd
From various gardens cull'dwith care."
pjThe following effusion from the`" London
Times is not only highly poetical, but. it assists
tho mind to realizo all the sublime agonies of
those who were onguiphed•with tho President:—
THE PRESIDENT.
Speak! for thou hest a voice, perpetual seal
Lift up thy surges, with some signal word,
Show where the pilgrims of the water be.
For whom a nation's thrilling heart is inked.
Down to thy waves they went in joyous pride,
They trod with steadfast feet thy billowy way;
The oyes of wondering men beheld them glide
Swift in the arrowy distance--where are theyl
Didst thou wise upon that mighty frame,
Mad that tho strength of man should with thee
strive,
And proud thy rival element to tame,
Didat swallow them in conscious depths alive?
Or, shorn and powerless, hest thou bade them lie
Their stately ship, a carcass of the foam!
Say, is tho old affection yearning still
With ell the blessed memories of home!
Or is it over? Life and breath, and thought, ,
Tho living feature and the breathing form?
Is the strong man become a thing of nought,
And the rich bloodpf rank no longr warm?
Thou anawerest not,thou stern and haughty sea,
There is no sound in earth, or wave, or air.
Roll on, ye tears! Oh, what can comfort be
To hearts that pant (or hope, sut breathe despairl,
Nay, mourner, there is sunlight on tho deep,
A gentle rainbow on the darkling cloud;
A voice, more mighty than the floods,will sweep
The'shore of tempests when tho storm is loud !
What, tho' they woke the whirlwinds of the
vvest,
Or ronell the tempest from his eastern lair,
Or clove the cloud with thunder in its breast,—
Lord of the awful waters, thou wcrt there!
All-mercifull The fate—the day—were thine;
Thou.didet receive them from the seething sea;
Thy love too deep—Thy memory too divine,
To quench them in an hour unworthy Thee.
If storms were mighty, Thou wed in the gale:
If their feet fail'd thorn, in Thy paths they trod;
Man cannot urgo the bark, or guide the sail,
Or force, the quivering helm, away from God!
atnommasimarowo.
MARIE MERIDEN.
lIE MRS. 11. 7. D. STOWE.
'Come, Mark Meriden! don't settle donif
Into an old grandmother before your time
—a pretty wife's a pretty thing, Mark, and
a pretty house is a pretty thing—but hang
it ! - -one must have a little of life.'
Mark Meriden stood at his desk, giving
a last look at his books, while Ben Sanford,
the roguish, the merry, the song-singing,
the Ben of all Bens, was thus urging on him
the claims of a projected frolic that even
ing. Now Ben was precisely the messen
ger, for such an embassy—there was fun in
the twinkle of his blue eye, and a world of
waggery in the•turn of his head, and in a
pair of broad roguish dimples that went
merily dodging in and out of his cheeks
every time-he spoke, and he had laid hold
of Mark's arm to drag him away. But
Mark shook off his hands, and finished sum
ming up a column offigures—put the blott
ing paper into the book, and the book into
the place, wiped his pen—all with an air of
great thoughtfulneas-r-and, at last, turning
to Ben, said-4 think I won't go this time.'
'Now why not?' said Ben, eagerly. •
#lteeausebecause; said Mark, smiling;
(because I have no old fancy that I should
like Mrs. Meriden's company this evening.'
'Slang Mrs. Meriden—beg pardon,Mark
—hang myself flit saying so—bUt nne don't
iike to see a fine follow buried alivet—come
take a real wake op with nit.'
`'!'hank • you Ben, but I havn't been
asleep and don't reed it: So 4 0 h ome
and si.e my wirt.;' and thereat Mirk turned
resolute step homeward as a well trained
husband ought, .
'Now,'. says one of our readers, !who
was Mark Meriden?' You would not have
asked, good reader if you had lived in the
town of —, when his name first appear
ed on the outside of one of its most fashion
able shops 'Mark Meriden' surrounded by
those waving insignia of grace and fashion
that young belles need to have their eyes
turned off from beholding. - Every thing in
the tasteful establishment told of well ar
ranged business, and Mark himself, the
mirror of fashion, faultless in every article
of costume, quick, attentive, polite, was
every day to be seen there winning 'golden
opinions trona all seas of people. Mark's
shop became the resort of high ton—the
fashionable exchange, the promenade of
beauty and wealth, who came there to be
enlightened as to the ways and means of
disposing of their surplus revenue—to see
and to be seen. So attentive, polite and
considerate was Mark, so profound his
bows, so bright his eyes, so unexceptionable
his whiskers, that it might have proved a
dangerous resort for the ladies, had not a
neat, tasteful house, going up in the neigh
borhood, been currently reported es the
future residence of an already elected Mrs.
Meriden; and in a few months, the house
neatly finished, and tastefully furnished,
received a very pretty lady, who called
herself to that eflect. She was as truly re
fined and lovely a woman as ever formed
the centre flower in a domestic boquet, and
Mark might justly be pardoned for having
been fortunate enough to secure her.
Mark had an extensive circle of business
and pleasure acquaintances, for he had
been one of the social, companionable sort,
whose money generally found its way out
of his pocket in very fair proportion to the
rate it came in. In short, he was given to
clubs, oyster suppers, and now and then a
wine party, and various other social privile
ges for elevating one's spirits and depress
ing one's cash, that abound among enligh•
tened communities.
But, nevertheless,at the bottom of Mark's
head, there was a very substantial stra
tum of a certain quality called common
sense, a trait, which though it was never
set down in any chart of phrenology, may
be very justly.called a faculty, and one too
which makes a very striking difference
among people as the world goes. In con
sequence of being thus constituted, Mark,
when he found himself in love with, and
engaged to a very pretty girl, began to re
flect with more than ordinary seriousness
on his habits, ways, and manners of life.—
He also took an accurate survey of
,his
business, formed an average estimate of hls
future income on the soberest probabilities,
and determined to live a little even within
that. He also provided himself with a
small account book, with which he intend.
ed to live in habits of very close acquair.-
tanee, and this book he designed to note
down all the' savings consequent upon the
retrenching of certain little extras before
alluded PI, in which he had been in the
habit of pretty freely indulging himself.
Upon the present occasion, it had cost
him something of an effort to say "no," for
Mark was one of your easy "clever fellows,"
to whom the enunciation of this little sylla
We causes as much trouble as all the gut
turals of the German. However when he
came in sight of his parlor window through
which the bright fire was shining—when
he entered and found the clean glowing
hearth, the easy chair drawn up in front, and
a pair of embroidered slippers waiting for
him quite at their leisure, and above all,
when he read the quick glance of welcome
in a pair of very bright eyes, Mark forgot
all about Ben Sanford, and all bachelor
friends and allurements whatsoever, and
thought himself the hapiest fellow on earth.
The evening past off rapidly by the help
of music, reading,end the little small talk
of which newly married people generally
find a supply, and the next morning saw
Mark at early business hours with as steady
a hand and as cool a head as if there had
been no such thing as bachelor frolics in
existence.
Late in the forenoon, Ben Sanford loung
ed in to ogle a few of the ladies, and above
all, to rally Mark on losing tho glorious fun
of the evening before.
'Upon my word, Mark,' he began, 'we
must have you put up for Selectman, you
are becoming so extremely ancient and
venerable in your ways; 'however, you are
to be excused,' he added, 'circumstances
considered—female influence l—alil—well!
it's a fine affair this marriage!'
'Better try it, Mr. Sanford,' said a bright
saucy girl, who, with her laughing coin•
panions, was standing by while Ben was
speaking.
'Ah, madam! the wherewithal!' said
Ben, rolling up his eyes with a tragic ex
pression. 'lf some clever old fellow would
be so obliging as to die now, and leave me
a few thousands—then, ladies! you should
see!" -
'But speaking of money,' said Mark,when
he saw the ladies busy over some laces ho
had just thrown on the counter—'what did
your 'glorious fun' cost you?'
'Pootd--nothing!*-only a ten dollar bill
—nothing in my purse, you know!'
'Nothing in your pursel—not an uncom
mon incident alter these occasions,' said
Mark, laughingly.
'Oh, hung it all!" said Ben—'too true 1-•;-
I can get no remedy for this consumption of
the purse, as old Falstaff says;. however,
the world owes me a living, and so good
morning.
• Ben Sanford was just one of that class of
young men of whom common report goes,
that they can do any thing they please,and
who consider this point as so well establish
ed that they do not think it necessary to
G. W.AO,73IIIGTON ZOWEN, ZDITOB, Zr. PROPRIETOR.
ig The liberty to know, to utter, and to argue, freely, is above all other liberties.”—:-MivroN.
evawi - euraairma, 2p42.Q0 ewaiaa)clats ca.voqa so, aaa.ta.,a
illustrate it by doing any thing at all. He
was a Lawyer of talents, and would have
had an extensive run of business had he not
been one of the class of people never to be
found when wanted. His law books and
law office saw far less of bitr , than certain
fashionable places of resort, where his hand
some person and various social accomplish
ments always secured to him a welcome
reception. Ben had some little property
left him by his father, just enough, as he
used laughingly to quote "to keep him in
gloves and cologne water," and for the rest
he seemed vastly contented with his old
maxim, , the world owes me a living,' for
getting that the world can sometimes - prove
as poor a paymaster as the most fashiona•
blo young gentleman going. •
But to return to Mark. When he had
settled his accounts at night, ho took from
a pigeon hole in hie desk, the little book
alore•named, and enterred as follows: To
one real wake up, slo,' which being done,
he locked his desk, and returned once more
to Mrs. Meriden.
Days flew on, and the shop of. Mark be
came increasingly popular, and still from
time to time he was assailed by the kind of
temptation, we have described. Now it
was, 'Mark, my dear fellow do join us in a
trip to.G.—'s;' and now, 'Come my old boy,
let us have a spree at F—'s;'—now it was
the club, now the oyster supper—but Still
Mark was invincible, and still as one or
the other gaily recounted the history of
the scene, he silently committed the 'ac
count of the expense to his little book. Yet
was not Mark 'cynical or unsocial. • His
refusals, though so firm, were invariably
good natured, and though ,he could not be
drawn abroad, yet ho was unquestionably
open handed and free in his own home--
No house had so warm a welcome—no
dinner table could be more bountiful or
more freely open fOr the behoof of all gen
tlemen of the dining out order—no tea-ta
ble presented more unexceptionable toast,
and no evening lounge was more easy,
horrie-like and cheerful, than on the warm
sofas in the snug parlors of Mark Meriden.
They also gave evening parties, where all
was brilliant, tasteful and well ordored; and
in fine, notwithstanding his short comings,
Mark was set down as a fine open-handed
fellow after all.
~ e? • .
At the end of Ite year, Mark cast up the
account in his little book; and was mighti
ly astonished at it, for with all.his ideas of
the - power of numbers lie had no idea that
the twos; and fives, and tons,and onos,which
on greater or smaller occasions,. had found
their way into his columns, .would mount up
to a 'sum so considerably. : Mark looked
about - him—the world was going well—his
business•machinery moving in exact touch
and time—his house—where was there a
prettier one? where a place more replete I
with.every home drawing comfort? Had
he . lost any thing in pleasure the year past?
Mark thought: - not, and therefore as he
walked hoineward, he stepped into a book
seller's and ordered some books of superb
engravings for Mrs...Meriden, and spoke to
a gardener to send some elegant flowering
exotics for which ho had heard her express
an admiration some' evenings before.
That same evening came in Ben Sanford,
as he expressed it; "in the very depths of
indigo;' for young gentlemen whose wordly
matters invariably go on wrong end fore
most; will sometimes be found in this con
•dition,. however exuberant may be their
stock of animal spirits.
'Pray, Bert, what is the matter?' said
Mark kindly, as the latter stretched him
self at length In an arm chair, groaning
audibly.
'Oh, a bilious attack—Marld—shoema
kers' bills !-- 7 boarding house bills!-.—all sent
in for new : year's "presents—hang 'em all
Mark Was silent for a few moments, and
Ben continued, 'Confound it, Maikl what's
the sense.of living, if a fellow is so cursed
ly poor!—Here you, Mark, born in the,
same town with me, "and younger than I
am by some two years—you, ?levee house,
as snug, as cosy, and comfortable as
,man
need ask—a wife like an angel—peace and
plenty by the bushel, and all comes of hav
ing a good run of luck in the money line'—
and Ben kicked his slippers against the
andirons most energetically.
'What has become of Emily, P-1'
asked Mark, after a pause.
'Poor souMsaid Ben, 'there is she yet
with all sweetness and patience, waiting till
such a luckless scapegrace as I can give
her a home and husband. - I wish to my
soul, for . her Sake, I could afford to be mar
ried, and have a home of my own; besides,
to tell you the truth,. I am tired of this ram
bling, scrambling, out-at elbow, slip-shod
life.' .
•
"Why don't you get married?' said Mark.
"Why don't I? to be sure—rise my tai•
lor's bill for fuel, and board bill for • house
rent, and my shoo bill for bread and butter
hey?
. Would you recommend a poor girl
to try me, Markr—all things Considered?'
said Ben, bitterly. •
Mark reflected • awhile in silence, and
then drew out his book—his little book, to
which we have before alluded.
'Just look at this'account, Ben,' said he,
know you hate figures, but just for once.'
Ben glanced at it impatiOntly—laughed
when he read over tho two or three first
items, but his face lengthened as he procee•
dad; and Mark detected a sort of whistle of
astonishment as he read the sum total.
411 7 014 Mark,' he exclaimed, 'what it very
old gentlemanly, considerate trick is this
of yours—to sit bohindyour curtain so cool
ly noting down the 'cost and come to,'
of all our little frolics—really it is most
edifying 1 How much you must have en-
jayed your superior discretion and fore
thought P and Ben laughed, but not with
his usual glee.
'Nay, you mistake,' said Mark. 'I kept
this account merely to see what I had been
in the habit of spending myself, and "as you
and I have been always hand and glove in
every thing, it answers equally for you.
—lt was only yesterday that I summed up
the account, and I assure you the result sur•
prised myself; and now Ben, the sum here
set down and as much more as you,please, is
freely at your disposal to clear off old scores
for the year, provided you will accept wilh
it this little book as a now year's gift, and
use it one twelve month as 1 have done; and
if at the end of that time you are rot ready
to introduce me to Mrs. Sanford, I am much
mistaken.'
Ben grasped hts friend's hand—but just
then the entrance of Mrs. Meriden preven
ted a reply. Mark, however saw with sat•
isfaction that ho had pat the book carefully
in his vest pocket, and buttoned up his coat
with the air of a man who is buttoning up a
now resolution.
When they parted for the night, iVrark
said with a smile, 'ln case of bilious attacks,
you know where to send for medicine. Bun
answered only by a fervent grasp ofthc Wind
for his throat felt too full for him to answer.
Mark 111criden's book answered the put..
pose admirably. In less than two years Ben
Sanford.was the most popular lawyer in --,
and us steady a householder as you Might
wish to see. And, in conclusion, as this is
a Lady's Book,wo will just ask our Indy rea
ders their opinion on one point, and it is this:
If Mrs. Meriden had been a woman who
understood what, is called 'catching a beau,'
better than securing a husbanil =if she had
never curled her hair except for company,
and thought It a degradation to know how
to keep a house comfortable, would all these
things have happened?'
Macurive POETRY.—SrooNE,of the New
York Sunday 'Mercury, says he has made
a decided improvernept in the poetical ma
chine. It is now capable of making double
breasted poetry, or verse, With rhymes at
both ends of the lines. Here is a sample.
TWO ERAS - IN A DRUNKARD'S LIFE.
To.Day—Glorious Sensations.
Live, ye loafers, while yo may,
Cays, your souls in mirth to day;
Drinking drowns all care and sorrow—
Thinking brings a sad tomorrow,
Mow, 0 blow it, boys, out strong!
On, 0 go it, while you're young!
Mine's a life of fun and frolic—
Wine's a cure for care and chalk!
To-Morrow—Sober Reflections. •
Lifo's a humbug—death's a hoax—
Strifes and griefs are serious jokes.
Riches have flown—l cannot catch 'ern—
Breechos aro torn—no wife to patch
Blast tho luck and blast the liquor!
Cast all 'grog to—! Oh! I'm sicker!
See the demons! How they're dancing!
Spreeing, grinning, kicking; prancing!
Some sit grinning on their beam ends; ,
Rum !MOIR MDR ! I've got the TREMENS
THE IDIOT AND THE BEAUTY.—From a
review, in Tait's Magazine, of AI r. Combo's
Notes on the United States, we quote an in
teresting passage descriptive of the quick
ening effects produced on an idiot's mind
by his habits of daily intercourse with a
beautiful young girl. Moore would turn
this anecdote to admirable account in a
poem. "In the course of conversation, a
case was mentioned to me as having tic.
curred in the experience of a highly re
spectable physician, and , which was so ful
ly authenticated that I entertained no doubts
of its truth. The physician alluded to had
a patient, a young man, who was almost
idiotic from the suppression of all hisfacul.
ties. He never spoke, and never moved,
voluntarily, but sat 'habitually with his
hand shading his eyes. The physician
sent him to walk as a remedial measure.--
In the neighborhood, a beautiful young
girl of sixteen lived with her parents, and
used to see the young man in his walks,und
speak kindly to him. For some time he
took no notice of her; but, after meeting
her for several months, he began to look
for her, and to feel disappointed if she did
not appear. He became so much interest
ed that ho directed his steps voluntarilY to
her father's cottage, and gave her bouquets
of flowers. By degrees he conversed with
Ler through the window. His mental fec.
ulties wore aroused; the dawn of convale
scence appeared. The girl was virtuous,
intelligent and lovely, and encouraged his
visits when she was told that she was bone
fitting his mental health. She asked him
if he could read and write. He answered,
No. She wrote some lines to him to in
duce him to learn. This had the desired
effect. Ho applied himself to study, and
soon wrote g ood and sensible letters to her.
He recovered his reason. She was mar
ried to a young man frem the neighboring
citY. Great fears were entertained that
this event would undo the good she had tic.
complished. The young patient sustained a
severe shock, but his mind did not sink
under it. He acquiesced in the propriety
of her choice; continued • to improve, and, :
at last was restored to his family, cured.—
She had a child, and was soon after brought
to the same hoSpital perfectly insane. The
young man heard of this event, and was
exceedingly anxious to see her, but an in
terview was denied to him; built on her
account and his own. She died. He con
tinued well, and became an active member
of society. What a beautiful romance
might be founded on this narrative("
EFFECTS OF Jcimover.—Tho Lenox
(Mass.) Eagle, relates the most diabolical
result of female jealoussy that we recollect
to have read of. It appears that one day
last week a young lndy, whose name is not
given, received an invitation purporting to
come from a youngman to whom she was
engaged to be married, to visit a family of
her acquaintance in Greon River, and went
there accordingly. Mrs. Lane, a widow of
that place, invited the. young lady to her
house as she was passing by, and offered
her a glass of beer, which, upon tasting, she
refused to drink. Mrs. LAe, however, in
duced, or by the assistance of her daughter
compelled her to drink the beer,which con- 1
tained, as afterwards proved, a large quail
sity of corrosive sublimate. The effect of
the poison was so sudden, that befoie she
was conveyed •to one of the neighboring
houses her tongue wad swelled , so as to pro
trude from her mouth. Physicians were
immediately procured, and by the means of
a stomach pump tho sufferer was relieved
to some extent, but it sits thought that she
cannot survive. As a reason for this most
atrocious act, it is said that Mrs. L. was
desirous of having the gentleman to whom
her victim was engaged, marry her own
daughter, and resorted to this means in
hopes of accomplishing her, purpose! 'The
woman and her daughter are both confined
in the Hudson jail.
Mum wonx.---It's hard . work (says the
Sunday Mercury.) to go up hill without
leaning; forward— and it's hard work for a
'neutral' editor to speak of politics without
leaning one way or the other. . .
Its hard work to make a dinner of grape
shot, unless they aro all well boiled; and
it's hard work to digest a fool's 'argument,
unless it be soaked in something like rea
son.
It's hard work to look at the sun without
winking; and it's hard work to , look at sotno
girls without feeling inclined to wink.
It's hard work to do nothing, and have
too much of it on hand; and its hard work
to collect a debt of one who says, 'l'll pay
it to morrow.'
It's hard work to squeeze cider out of a
brick bat; and it's hard work to scratch , out
ideas for a paragraph after being on a spree
for twenty.four hours l
It's hard work to hold lightning by the
tail; and it's hard work to 'stem the tor
rents of a woman's will.
It's hnrd work to refuse tt good offer:and
its harder still to be compelled to accept a
bad one.
It's hard work for many people to live:
and doubly hard for some to die•
Dli. BRADDEE.—The Pittsburg Intelli
gencer, in speaking of this'character, who
has just been sentenced for robbinn , the
mail, soya that he was a regular attendant
at the horse races, cock fighting, gambling
and drinking frolics in the whole region
round about his location, and that he was
drunk when taken to the penitentiary. It
further says—
" Having heard, that he could both read
and• write, and had confessed It, we called
upon our amiable friend, Major A. Beck
ham, Warden of the Penitentiary, who in
formed us, that upon putting the usual ques
tion to Dr. Bradlee when be came intend.
cated, 'Can you read or write?' he replied
'Yes, in the best style;' and upon repeating
it when sober, he hesitated; but upon being
told imperatively that the law and practice
required the truth on this important point,
and that if ho could not, he would be taught,
the Doctor replied 'that he could both read
and write,' asking in turn the common sense
question, 'How could he obtain so much
knowledge in Medicine, if he could not
both read and write!' adding that he had
once, a long time ago, made a solemn pledge
to some one to deny that he could do eith
er; hence he hue: neglected to read books,
and his mind has walloWed in the lowest
filth and mire, and be has employed his
talents and influence to corrupt the ignor
ant and credulous around him, and to prey
upon society."
CAUTION AND SusnctoN.—Vice often
treads on the heels of virtue; the line of
distinction is to many scarcely perceptible,
and in the exercise of what we may deem
morality, we may offend against her laws.
Generosity often sinks into profusion, useful
remonstrance into anger, and respect into
servility. Indeed; there is scarce the pur
suit of one virtue which may not tie 'suffer
ed to degenerate; we may extract poison
from the most delicious of fruits. In the
intricate and dangerous affair of life,caotion
is pre•eminently necessary and useful.—
There are no twc things more distinct.—
Caution is the exercise of wise discretion
and honest circumspection; suspicion is the
offspring of little mindedness. No truly
great man was ever suspicious, and no ty
rant ever existed who did not accompany
his cruelty by the perpetual betrayal of
suspicion. • '
•
SODA WATEIL—An English Chemist
lately lecturing at the Royal Institution.
said that the great - majority of the article
sold as soda tooter, does not contain one
grain of soda, but, is merely plain water,
impregnated with carbonic acid gas; not
because soda rs tuo expensive an article, but
because the apparatus for forcing the gas
into the water costs about $75, whereas,
the cost of the machinery muisite to pre
pare a solution of soda, is from 3 to El,OOO.
Tho 'Sovereigns of Spain, Pertugal,Greai
Britain and Turkey, are all under 28 years
of age; and the three former are females.
1JP1U02.121 diPOO .54Mci
DISTANCE OF A FINED 5TAR....,--M.1308001,
a German astronomer, has made one.
.the
greatest discoveries of modern times,by hav
ing ascettained the parallax of the double
star 61 Cygni. He found from repeated ob.
sorvations made from August, 1837,, to
March, le4o, that the parallax of a Cygni
did not exceed thirly.one . hundredths of-a
second, which places the distance of, that
star from us at nearly : 670,000 times that
of the sun, or which is nearly sixty fourraill
ions of miles, (or more nearly 63,650,060,
000,000 miles) This immense, distance
can better be conceived, when wed state, that
if a cannon ball were to traverse this vast
space at the rate of twenty miles a rninuto,
it would occupy more than six millioaa,of
years incoming from that star to our earth;
and if a body could be projected from our
earth 61 Cygni, at thirty ,miles an hour,
(which is about the same rate, that the car
riages on railroad-travel,) it ;would , occupy
at least ninety six millions ofyears. Light-
which travels more than eleven millions of
miles in aminute, would occupy about twelve
years in comin g that star te our earth.
A Normixous Jonoc.—Virgil A. Stew
art, some two or three years sumo, notortt
ous throughout the South in connection with
the "Murrell plot" for a slave
.insurrection,
i 3 said to be a Circuit Judge i n. Texas.
• Wm....,
WHAT AMERICANS ARE TOLD ABROAD.
—A European correspondent of ti t s. Boston
Advertiser says:
"We are told of our State StORRO. We
are told of the general suspen sion in ' the
Southern States. We are told that our
ships are searched on the Coast of A fricaiby
beardless boys, the crews insulted by En.
glish sailors ' and whole voyages, bfoken up
because we have no Navy to protect our
commerce. We are truly not to be envied.
We know what the resources of our< coon,
try are. We know that she can—we feel
that the•ought to protect us every wore, as
well at home as abroad. and we grieselhal
she does not."
AN •OLD PUBLIC Szimarr.—Richard
Harrison, Esq. late Auditor of the Treun•
ry, died at Washington on the lOth Putt. in
the 92d year of his age'. He, receive&hie
appointment from Gen. Washington. -
—...maw-
STBANGE.--The dead body Oril.lllMl
name unknown, was found a short ttme since
on the roof of a three story holm in Yicks
burg. No one could divine how he eagle
in such a situation. , ,
. •
TUE Mosmorts.—A letter from Nauvoe,
states that Joe Smith, the , Ipader of the
Mormons, has been arrested by the author.
ity of the Governor of Illinois; that the Mor
mons bad taken possession of a large tract
of land without authority, and that, the
strongest excitement prevailed against them
in the immediate neighborhood, and fearful
apprehensions were entertained, lest :;a, aan.
guinary, struggle should lake place... The
Commissioner gent by the Governor to stir-
vey . the lands had been seized by the Mor
mons, and both prties laboured under much
excitement.
THE MALES Aonsr..—This important
case, which has occupied the attention of
the District Court, since. Friday. last, Was
this morning brought to n close, si.sin hOnor
Judge Heath decided against tho Oilman%
on the ground that the vessel is- forfeited_ to
the Milted States for acts of . piracy - com
mitted on the high seas, . while in, charge of
her late captain, Nunez. -
LAUGHABLE, BUT NOT VERY CONVORT:%.
sLE.--The Williarnton Register notices
the following circumstance:...- 4, A horrible
accident liked to have happened a few days
aince, that would have thrown consternation
in, the midst of the inhabitants of our vil
lage. A gentleman, wishing to take a
glass of soda water, and having but op
tumbler convenient, first drank the soda,
and then took the acid upon it;, an inward
effervescence was" the consequence, that
made him spout like 'a whale, and ho come
very near collapsing tt fuel"
We believe, in the young, susPensa is the
best intolerable suffering. Active military
always brings with it its ciwu power of en
durance. What a common expriassion4o
hear,—"Well, if I had known what I had
to go through beforehatid, I should never
have believed it possible that I could have
done it." But it is a dreadlul thing to ,ha
left alone with your4magination—to have
to fancy the worst, and yet know not, whet
the worst may be; and t his, in early youth,
has a degree of acute angutah that after
years cannot know. As we advance in
life, wefind alt things here too utterly
worthless to grieve over them aswe, on,ce
could grieve. We grow cold and careless,
the dust to which we are , hastening, has
entered, the heart.
INDIAN Conn.—According to the census,
the annual crop of Indian Cora ofiNorth
Carolina, is flirty-four millions of bushels...
In the production of ibis 'important . /teak- .
therefore, North' Carolina stands sanoll : #4. ,
the list—the- annual crop. or TensimariC
which is tho largest producer, beil4p
-v..
wards of forty two millions of buidiebk
,
A STATB rROTRSTED. - wv
-1011/11 'fro*
the Jackson
,Missiwkipmari, of the 4th 1414,
that Governor McNutt Imo 44:1Otivet,1 Offeftit
information that k ihe State him been protetip , :
ed for interest due on d portiv of tratogs
Bank boadz:.