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Office of the Star & Banner
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'''' - • k.i
•. ' e. 4 4 .., : ,.....-.01110 N : 3 .. .t.ii" . 3. , : , ..
' it. ...• / ~.
4 §,
55:%;.' - 'co . - 2 - . ..:., ~..- •
. , • . 20 4 ''eaMilli, ~ ' ' '
—"With sweetest flowers enrich'd •
From various gardens cull'd with care."
41 31 Y BICAUTIFUL i MY OWN PP
My gentle girl! my loved—my awn
Whate'er in life betide—
To me come weal or wo, the fates
I'll mock at and deride;
I would not care, at me were all I
Their abate of malice thrown,
king as thee, - dear gitlJ tall
"Mr BEAUTIFUL! YE OVV21!"
There may be maidens, love,.on earth
More fair than even thou;
And noble dames, of loftier birth
Than thine, there are, I trow;—
But yet, my own dear girl ! above
The queen upon the throne
I prise, and thy gentle love—
"Mr BiAUTIPUL !ILIC OWI
There may bo those of higher state
And riches than are thine;
It might be thought thy wealth were great,
That greater far were mine;
But who could richer treasure end;
More priceless gem. hi shown,
Than thine the jewels of the mind !
I.Mir es•crirl?L! OWN!"
There may those more deeply
Than thou in musty lore;
There may be heade e'en better filled
With useful learning's store,
Yet learned enough for ma thou art;
Nor learning hest alone,
But a warm and true and gushing heart,
"Mr HBALITIVICL ! 111W3!"
There may be, those by others deemed
Mora beautiful than thou;
But none to me have ever 'gamed
So worthy Love's pure vow;
Though many a form, with beauty warm
Awl 'liveliest face I've known,
Yet none to ma, but thou can'at be
BEAUTIFUL ! NIT OWN !"
TO DANDIES.
Ye mincing, squinting,smoked face pretty things
Witilecorsets laced as tight as fiddle string.,
Choked as a toad, and sup!. as a cat,
About this wist Dsharp, this pale D flat,
Ye cringing, super•serviceable slaves,
Ye self complacent, brainless, heartless knaves,
Ye lizard looking apes, with cat fish gills,
Ye scoundrels, go and pay your Tailor's Bills.
M11C30MU.+16131a17111(30
From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier.
TEE ORDEAL;
Oa, vas TRIUMPII Or NATURAL Arramos.
. "I shall certainly never forgive him; on
that •1 am determined," said Mrs. Wattling.
ham, as she folded up a letter she had just
received from her only son. •
"Of course not, my dear friend," said
her companion. (a young lady ofdemure as
pect, and of that age which. Byron has
pronounced to be of all ages, the most un•
certain) "a due regard to your own char
. eater for consistency. and your 'duty to so•
ciety, alike demand that you should not suf
for so flagrant an instance of disobedience
to pass unpunished."
• • liAnd yet 'Rebecca, he is my only child,
and•it is hard to resolve never to nee him
twain."
may be hard, , but it is, neverthelesti,
your dutg and I ant sure you will not
shrink from periermiug it. Filial 'disobo
diance is a crinie of the darkest die, and
one which should be frowned upon by all
respectable people."
"But in Ilitnry's case, there are so many
extenuating eircumstaires; you know this
match was planned by his poor father, and
'at ahhough, I had never seen the y oung
lady; I did not oppnie till I . became ac.
.quainted with you, my love—and felt how
much it would .tdd to roy ; pitopiness to have
you become my daughter."
"And to increase fief:oll(;9J wield
have overcome iny:repu L than ce to mtirrinJe . ,.
though heaven knows the qucrifiCe *would
have been , a most painfill one."
"I appreciate your rtff.ction, my. dear
Rebecca; and it maims my son's - conduct,
in refusingto give up a childish engage
far my sake, apreur the . more inex
cusable. No, lam determined I will nev
er see either him or the foolish girl he has
made his wile," and Mrs. Walsingham,
without another glance, consigned to the
flames the letter which had given rise to
the above conversation.
Henry Waleingbaui was the only son of
a gentleman of high respectability, and of
considerable talent. Mr. Walsingham had
been bred to the bar, but having married
a wealthy Southern heiress, he had aban
doned his profesaion,•and retired to a beau.
liful estate he possessed in the neighborhood
of Richmond. It was, however, the first
wish of his heart that his only son should
become a distinguished lawyer, and accor
dingly, after completiug his collegiate stu
dies, Henry was placed with a professional
gentleman—an early friend of his father.
Mr. Longford was a widower, with an only
daughter, whose beauty and amiability
soon attracted the regards of her father's
pupil. An uninterupted intercourse of
several years, produced a strong mutual
attachment, whiCh was encouraged by both
fathers—and a day was already appointed i
for the marriage of the young couple, when
their happiness wee interrupted by the cud.
den death of Mr. Walsingham.
Henry arrived at hem only in time to
receive his father's last blessing, and his
marriage being ofcourse, postponed, he ac
companied his mother on a visit 'to her
relatives in Charleston. Hero he left her,
and returned to his professional pursuits,
and to the society of his affianced bride.
When Mrs. Walsingham, after an ab.
sauce of several months 'returned to her
home, she was accompanied by' a young
lady, a distant relative, who had contrived
to render heiself so usefill and agreeable,
that the lone widow found it impossible to
part with her. Weak and vain, Mrs.
Walsingham was an easy dupe to any one
who would be at the pains to flatter' her,
raid Rebecca Thornton soon acqnired an
unlimited influence over her mind. This
influence she endeavored to tura to the
moat profitable account; and not satisfied
with securing to herself a comfortable home
with her, 'she uspired to be the wife of her
son. With this view, she redoubled her
attentions, and while she seemed to desire
only the happiness of her frierfd, she led
her, by imperceptible degree; to the Very
point she wished.
It became the earnest desire of Mrs.
Walsingham to break off the projected
marriage of her son, and to promote his
union with her protegee. This, however,
she found it imposible to accomplish. Thu
idea of marrying a woman fully tun years
his senior, seemed to Henry so absurd that
at fiat, he could not believe his mother was
in serious in proposing it. When at last
convinced that she was in earnest, be firmly
but respectfully refused to comply with her
wishes with regard to Miss Thornton, or
even to break his • engagement with Rose
Longford.
Aware of the weakness of his mother's '
character, and attributing her present con
duct to what he trusted would be the short
lived influence of her companion, Henry.
did not apprise either Mr. Longford or Rose
of Mrs. Walsingham's wishes, and his mar.
doge with the latter took place within a
year after the death of his father. Soon
after this event he wrote to his mother of
fering her a visit, and begged that she
would not attribute his conduct to any want
of respect or affection for herself. This
letter would have softened his parent's
heart had it not been fur the baleful influence
of Miss Thornton; who, in addition to the
mercenary and selfish motives which had
originally prompted her conduct, was now
animated by a malignant desire Jo be
revenged on Him who had scorned her al.
liance. By this time she had acquired sues.
an ascendency over the weak mind of Mrs.
Walsingham, that the latter was actually
afraid to act without consulting her wishes,
and obtaining her approval. Henry 'was
accordingly forbidden to enter his parental
mansion, and the mother and son ceased to
have the slightest intercouse with each
other.
in a lofty bed charr.ber, surrounded by
all the appliances of wealth and luxury, lay
Mrs. Walsingham, attended by a female
slave, and apparently suffering undor severe
illness. A slight noise was heard at the
door, and the physician entered the apart
ment. He advanced to the bedside, felt
the pulse of the patient, and after conver
sing for a short time in a low voice, with
the attendant, he left the room, and descend.
ed to the parlor. Here he found Miss
Thornton, whose pale and agitated counte
nance indicated the anxiety of her mind.
"Weihdoctor," said she, how' do you
find my poor friend?"
“Very ill, ma'am; and unless she be bet
ter cared for, and my directions more
strictly observed, I cannot answer for the
result."
"But, docter, Ind do not think her
disende contagious, do youi"- -
"I fear_ it is, ma'am."
Miss Thornton's pale cheek assumed a
still more livid bite, and her voice trem
bled us she requested the physibiart to as
sist her in piocuring a conveyance to the
neighboring town. The doctor fixed on
her a look of surprise, not unmixed with
horror, es he replied, • .
"Why, ma'am, yob surely would not
think of leaving your friend in this mina
tion, to the care olinentalsr
"A h, my dear sir, sell preservation, you
knoo, is our firseduty. Besides, 1 havo
other friends, and I owe it to them to take
care of my health." • ••
" "I thought, madam, I had hoard you say
to 3Jra. Walsingham, that you had no•fiiind
G. WA.C.MINGTON 280W.1311, EV4TOM, & 15.7.0pnamTop,.
44 The liberty to knoso, to utter, and to argue, freely, is above all other liberties.oP—MmTom
,22 fl• tlqr a 213 tbc' aocithe WriPL662.2lQa/r 0 giaLoquweeat ea. a 04140
in the world but her. However, I have
no right to interfere with yonsr , arrange•
ments, except so for as I deem it my duty
to tell you that the life of my patient depends
on the strict observance of my directions,"
and the doctor quitted the room, leaving
Miss Thornton to manage her departure
from the infected mansion, as she best
could.
Dr. Bland was'sitting alone in his office
on the evening of the day he had visited
Mrs. Walsingham; meditating on her situ
ation, and endeavoring to devise some
means of procuring that attendance which
he knew to be necessary for the preserva
tion of her life. lie was an old friend of
the Walsingham family, and his feelings
wore much interested in behalf of the deso.
late woman, who in the midst of affluence,
was left without a friend to minister to her
'necessities. It was imoossible to procure
a nurse; for the fever by which Mrs. Wal
singham had been attacked, had spread
throagh the neighborhood, and created
universal consternation.
The good physician was ruminating over
all these discouraging circumstances, when
the sound of carriage wheels arrested his
attention. They stopped at his own door,
and lie hastened to receive his visitors.—
These consisted of a lady and gentleman,
the latter of -whom was apparently well
known to the worthy doctor, for he shook
him heartily by the hand. After half an
hour of private conversation, the gentleman
departed, leaving his female companion
under the charge of Dr. Bland.
When the worthy physician paid his final
visit for that day atiValsinghem grove, he
was accompanied by n young female, whom
he introduced to the domestics as a nurse
who had come to take care of their mis
tress. He found Mrs. Walsingham much
worse, indeed, in a state which forbade the
indulgence ot hope. Having, however, es
tablished the new nurse by the bedside of
his patient, and giving particular directions
respecting her treatment, the doctor return
led to his other patients, satisfied that let
matters result as they might, his duty had
been performed.
The night was dark and stormy, and
the little light which was admited - into the
sick chamber, served only to make its
gloom apparent. The patient tossed rest
lessly to and fro, and it was with difficulty
that the young nurse could adminiiter the
restoratives which had been proscribed.
Her soothing voice, however, seemed to
have some infinence with the sick woman, I
and towards morning her restlessness abet.
ed, and she sunk into a perturbed slumber, 1
from which she did nut awake till the dec.
tor came to pay , his morning' visit- He
found her symptoms rather better than on
the preceding evening, but she was still
extremely ill, and entirely bereft of reason.
I For more than a week she continued in
this state, and during this time her devoted
nurse hardly left her bedside, and all the
sleep she'obtained, was taken in a large
arm chair, which had been placed in the
room for her accommodation. On the eve
ning of the seventh day, the fever subsid
ed, and Mrs. Walsingham awoke from a
long sleep, weak and exhausted indeed, but
perfectly free from
"Rebecca," she said, in a feeble voice,
"are you here? why, who is this?" she ad
ded, as the sweet, low tone of her new at
tendant replied to her question.
' I ani your nurse, and for the present
you must submit to my attendance." •
"But where is Rebecca? she must be ill,
or she would be here."
She is not ill, and you will see her when
you are better; but, dear madam, I must
not let you exhaust yourself by talking,"
and the feeble invalid, wearied even by the
:!?-ht exertion she had already made, pas.
sively submitted to remain iv C 72 n soon
sunk again into a refreshing slumber.—
When she again awoke, it was very evi.
dent that a favourable change had taken
place, and the doctor, who called soon
ter, pronounced that a few more days of
careful nursing would place her out of dan
ger. Her recovery, however, though cer
tain, was vety slow, and weeks elapsed be
fore she was able to leave her bed. During
all this time, the attention of her nurse was
unremitting, and the invalid grew so accus
tomed to her sweet voice, and tender min
istrations, that she could not bear , her out
of her sight. She still continued le inquire
for Miss Thornton, but the doctor, who
was desirous of sparing her any agitation,
continued to evade her questions. At
length she was able to sit up, and, support.
Had by the arm of her xoung nurse, to reach
the sofa of the dressing room, which adjoin
ed her apartment.
is very stranger," sbe maid, as she sat
there one day, "that I do not. see Rebecca.
She must be ill, and you conceal it from
tire. ''
"No, my dear madam." said Dr. Bland,
to whom this observation was addressed,
"she is not ill, but she has left the neigh.
bourhood."
"Left the neighbourhood, and whilst I
was ill; impossible ! You .are deceiving
me, doctor. My poor friend has fallen a
victim to , her attachment to me."
"I am not deceiving you .madam," ans
wered the physician,,hluntly. Miss Thorn
ton !ell the house as soon as she learned
that your disease was contagious. It is to
this lady alone," he added, taking`the hand
of the lair young nurse, "that you are in
debted, under God, for your recovery." •
"To this lady!" echoed Mrs. Walsing
ham, in astonishment, "and who is she, and
how shall I requite her?
"By loving me, my dear ma d am; by giv
ing me apiece in your affections."
"That you already have,my young friend;
feel for you all the affection of a mother
And you will stay with me and be to me a
daughter."
"Oh, how gladly would Ido se, but I
I cannot leave my husband and my child!"
"Have you a husbaild and a child, and
left them both to come to me, to incur the
risk oldisense and death? W hat ie the
meaning of this—who are you?" exclaimed
Mrs. Walsingham, looking wildly into ,the
face of her attendant.
"I am the wife of your son," answered
Rose sinking on her knees, "will you not
forgive me? will you not restore my hug
band to his place in his mother's heart?"
Unable to speak, Mrs. Walsingham
'could only motion her daughter•in.law to
rise, and clasping her to her 'breast, she
sobbed out, "My daughter, my beloved
child." A burst of tears relieved her op•
pressed heart, and she was soon able to
listen to the explanation which the doctor,
whose benevolent spirit was rejoiced at this
scene, was ready to give.
"But why has not Henry been here?"
said Mrs. Walsingham, as th 3 doctor con
eluded; "surely he has not ceased to regard
his mother, little as she may have deserved
his affection."
LOh, no," answered Rose, "do not wrong
him by such a suspicion; but our child de
manded his care. We could not incur the
risk of leaving him an orphan, and before I
loft my husband I obtained from him a
promise that he would not venture within
the reach of contagion, but would remain
to watch over and protect our boy. I pro.
raised him," she added, "that I would win ,
him back his mother's 'heart."
"And you shall keep your promise, my
sweet child; at least you shall give him ab
much of it as you choose to part with, for
I have given It entirely up to you," said
Mrs. Walsingham,-as she embraced her
now found daughter.
In a few days, Dr. Blend's permission
being obtained, Mrs. %Valsingliani accom
ponied her daughter on her, return home,
and from that time she resided, with her
children, finding in their society , and in that
other lovely grandchild, as much of happi•
nese as in This sublunary state it is permit
ted us to enjoy. Rebecca Thornton re
turned to thiobscurity from which she•had
been raised by her benefactress, mortified
by the failure of her ambitious schemes.
and by being compelled to return to her
former associates, in the state of single
blessedness from which she had en ardent-
ly desiire•d to ernergo. SJ i e rondo one e
1 fort to regain her place in the esteem of
her former • rstroness, by writing her e
Idng letter, in which she attributed her
having left her during her illness, entirely
to a conviction that it was her duty to pre
serve her own health, though in doing so
she had chine the utmost violence to her
feedings, which would have impelled her
to remain to watch over her beloved friend
Rendered wise by suffering, Mrs. We!Bing
ham was not to be imposed upon by this
shallow sophistry, but in replying to Miss
Thornton's letter, after complimenting her
on the ease with which she sacrificed feel
ings which most persons (bend it difficult
to, control, inflirmed her that for the future
her own views ofduty would induce her to
bestow her afTection upon hPr children, and
that, happily in thitcasa, her feeliegs and
sense ofpropriety were not in conflict.
PHILOSOPHERS STONE:—The eccentric
John Randolph, in one of his erratic speech.
es in the Senate of die United States, ex
claimed. "Mr. President, I have discover
ed the Philosopher's Stone. It consists in
these four plain English monosyllables;
Pay as you go!"
There is much instruction contained in
these few words, lied they would afford ac
appropriate text too A P
"Pay as you go." \I-low much individual
distress might be avoided by the strict ob
servance of this maxim; but tew of us alas!
do observe it. It is too much the practice
to pay when you can, not to "pay as you
go;" noti hence the many troubles which
harrass and perplex us in our pilgrimage
through life. If every man was governed
by the maxim 'pay as you go,' there would
he no cry of hard, times—there would be no
dodging of sherifis and constables, or shun.
sing creditors. There would be no necessity.
for banks, which, according _to the doctrines
oldie loco focos, eat up the aubetanee of the
poor and make them the slaves of the rich.
True democratic liberty would be restored,
and every man would be , tree as the air
he breathes; judges, lawyers, sheriffs and
sheriff's officers would have to seek other
employments—they would no longer fatten
upon the imprudence or misfortunes of their
fellows, "Pay as you go," and many of the
crimes,which disgrace humanity, and bring ,
affliction upon families, would be banished
from our fair land- Rut above all the
publishers of newspapers, who have been
great sufferers by the neglect of subscribers
to observe this golden rule, would be great
ly benefitted. Its observance would infuse
into them new life and vigor; and inspire
them with new energies to enlighten the
public 'mind and keep the people from
following the delusions of loco focnism.—
Such we are Aire would ba its infigence
upon W.
CONSUMPTION OF COFFRE .—Fifty years
ago, coffee was hardly known as an article
of commerce in South America. Now
Brazil alone'produces the eocinmons quanti
ty of 135,000,000 of pounds, or nearly one
half of what annually finds its way into for
eign markets, from all quartqrs.. of ihe
globe.
AnsrACTIONISTs.—TIiie is. a term that
has been much used of late, and refers to a
set otmen whose views upon many ques
tions, which should be
,regarded only in a
plain, business like way, are of a very sub
limated and impracticable kind. There
are men in Congress who belong to this
class of persOns, and the soil of. Virginia
and the South generally are Said to, he more
prolific of them, than any other quarters of
the country. Not only the utter useless
ness of these characters, but also the dis
advantage and injury they are, to whatever
political party they may belong, have been
strikingly shown by recent proceedings in
Congress. The following admirable re
marks upon the, subject of Abstractions, are
taken from the Richmond Whig, and will
afford some insight into the characteristics
of these individuals:
As to Abstractions—we like an Abstrac
tion as well as any man living—but it should
be in season. Take it of* leisure after
noon or a holyday--and nothing can sur
pass it. It is delicious. It thrills the
mental sensorium—it sharpens the wit and
subializee the intellect. -But thrust it forth
into the rough and bustling avenues of
business and every day life, and it is as
much nut of place, ,ais Mr. Je ff erson said
Gen. Jackson Would be in the Presidential
Chair: It. has no congeniality, no adapta•
tion for the work-a•day concerns of life—
it shrinks from them like the sensit:ve plant
from a rude touch• Its sphere is seclusion
arid quiet—in the closet' of the Dreamer,
or along the sequestered, velvet walks of
the Poet.
Some politicians, who have made them.
solves ridiculous in the public eye, by over
much refining—and others—selfish and un
principled---'-who, under the sliield•of affect
ed purism, have never scrupled to perpe.
trate any political atrocit, wich
en might
redound to their aggran y dizen h st—have
sought to confound Principles and Abstrac
tions. There are no two things so nearly
allied, more distinct in their nature and
attributes—unless it be a horee-chesnut and
a chesnikt-horse.
An Abstraction is a disembodied Princi.
pie. A Principle is vital, active, pro-crea•
rive, and always leads to results--Utter
sterility is of the very essence of an Ab
straction—when it loses this distinetive
tontine, it ceasee to be itself, Universal
equality in an Abstraction—The greatest
good to the greatest number is a Principle.
If you were to put the Government into the
hands ora set of pure Abstractionists, they
would (es the saying. is) "run it into the
ground" in less than a fortnight, or prove
recreant to their professions. Each one
would have his own abstraction—and all
would concur, only in one thing—in repu
diating every thing practical. . If , they
could not
,cornpase the extremity of good,
they would take nothing—deeming aught
Ann of the greatest good tantamount to
the greatest evil. They are a rare genera.
tion—and tie there is . no procreativity about
them, they must die out before king. An.
other crop may arm at some distant day
by spontaneous parturition, or, like the arm.
ed men of Cadmus, from Dragon's teeth.—
But the probability-le, that the
. proaent ago
will adatain but littlo more detriment from
INCIDENTS CONNECTED WITH TN' Ds.
STRIICTION OF THE
not
were, SS
may be supposed, not a few Providential
eqcapes from the danger which befel even
the survivors of the dreadful destruetion of
the Erie.
A gentleman from the' East was on his
way to the boat in company with three
others, when he accidentally met a friend
with whom he had some burliness to trans.
act. His baggage had gone on, and be
very reluctantly nauseated to recall it, end
remain for the next boat. This cirdum
stance, so ;;;;;;;;: at the time, may have
saved his lite. •
Another gentleman, who with his wife
took the packet at Rochester, hearing,
when he reached Lock Port, that the Erie
was to leave in the afternoon, left the pack
et, and took the cars, with the hops of
reaching Buffalo in season• Ho just reach
ed the city in limo to see the Erie shove
out into the Lake!
We learn that a gentleman and lady
from this city went on board the Erie to
return home; but upon learning the name
of the boat, the lady refused to remain on
board, as several accidents bad before hap-
pened her.. Their baggage was, conga •
quently, removed, and their Wes saved.
Two gentlemen from Essex coucty were
at the boat when she was ready kostart,but
by some fortunate blunder, their baggage
was not gent down from their hotel. They
were obliged to stay back, much to their
annoyance, at the time, but to their great
joy since.—Detroit Ado. 1
. Scarcely any catastrophe, se extensively
fatal as that of the Erie, can occur, without
leaving for record instances of remarkable
escape. One with , reference to the Lex
ington now occurs to us. A friend of ours,
a merchant, started from this city with a
neighbor of his, upot, tame business expedi-
tion to the East. The steamboat to Naw
York Ina detained a- few minutes. longer
than usual; and the Lexington, lying a
,
short distance, WB4 on
_the point or dem ,
ture. Our friend seized his *rink, and
'urnped into a carriage, with a view ot out
etrippiog his friend. The latter took it
carpet bag, and ran across the whervesOind
When our friend arrived, and jumped Own
his carriage, the Lexington had shovel:la,
His friend spoke a farewell to ,him over _the
side-:-It was his last adieu. Our friend
went into the hotel in a bad humor enough.
v94.ztozat (hylo,a tiaso
But when he ishrned the late of the'..,itaat'
end of his fnrhicr 'campanile, he w it( es
mach shocked as were the peosttngers
the Lexington when the'firsi cry of the lire
was raised.— U. S. Gni.' ' '
A RIVER o FIRR.—II can nn tenger
be doubted that the Alabamirma are :soak
ing up, as it will appear, by tbe fullOsVing
article, that they have seccoidei io .setting
their principal river on fire:
Tux TONRIORER Fax,
While Mr. J. - M. Cooper was' prosecuting
the removal of McGrew's Sbcials,, after
boring to tho depth of pa feet, his auger
auddenly dropped and entirely disappeared.
In the space of corns revere! momenta a
deep hallow sound was heard, resembling
the rumbling noise of distant thunder from
the chasm beleiv, and at the stun instan t gushed forth from the shaft thus' made a
clear, transparent, oleaginous substance or
liquid, which boils up'very similar the
effervescence of a boiling pot; which owing
to the sluggishneas of the current, has
gradually diffused itself over the whole sur
face of the river. A quantity has been col
lected, and upon imPlication . of fire, it is
fbund to burn equal - to the - present sperm oil.
To gratify curiosity and . mike further
tests, fire has been applied to the oil on'thrt s
water, and the whale surface. of the river
is now binning, emitting' a flame of the
most beautiful appearance, about II inches
high, and has already extended about half
way down to Fort Stodslart; the reflectien
of which upon the horiztit steight,preseotai
a most sublime spectaele„ ? ' far surpassing in
grandeur and beauty efappearano• the its
tors byttalts.—/Nobite .Tatirna/. .14
'HYDROPHOBIA. OR'CANINR
The'Buffalo Commercial'publishes the aub•
joined "notices given in the newayapere of
the 29 ofJune, 1841, by the Committee of .
Selobrity, in Paris:" 'lat. 'Any pervon
I bitten by a mad dog or any other
should immediately press with
_the'.; two
fiands.all around the wound, so as ttk'makst
the blood run freely and extricate the'-ala
ver. 2d. Wash the wound with a mixture
of alkali and water, lemon.juice, lye, eoap,
salt water, nrine, or even pure water. •
During the time of pressing and washing
the wound, warn . ) a piece ot iron in the fire
and apply it deeply to the said wound
Mind that the said piece of iron ,is , `only
heated so as to be able to cauterize---theit
ii must not be red hot.. Thieve precautions
being well observed, are - auffiCient to pre.
serve from the horritteffeits ,of hydrepho
but. and everyone ahoutd keep them in their
mind.
laughter
loving editor of the N. E.' Review, seye
that on a trip to klebanm, he stayed All
Right atone oldie hotels ` near the river.—
He went to bed, but was loop awakened by
an army of beg bugs, who, made a fierce
and. simultaneous attack upon ,him, "front,
dank and rear!" - Coward like, he fled to
the middle of the'Rom., and (limited a blan
ket and a pillow, andbivouacked •there for
the remainder ri of the night. Here .they
ihareed en him again, and routed him corn.
pletely. He roared lustily for Beniface,-
and begged him to send up a pint °imolai.
sec This was deno—when his quillship
proceeded very deliberately to draw cir
cle on the floor, With the molassee, about
ten feet in diameter: tiller shaking him
ielfon the ciutside of the magic ring, he
ventured within it, and slept quietly till
morning! This is probably:the tavern at
Which a traveller on'retiring to rest in the
evening, discovered a bed-bug in the corner
of the fireplace picking his- teeth with a
poker.
Ingenious, that's certain. But the bed
bugs must have been "stupid.. they had
half as' much gumption as some we have
heard of, they would ,have climbed up the
^.^ l l and when fairly over head upon the
ceiling, "let go." In such case,
kee would have found it convenient to
"stand: from, under," notwithstanding his
molasses rampart.
A ItAVICNOIIN Arwitsz.--The Baltimore
Clipper states that "about dusk en Tuesday
evening, a very , large sew seized upon
small boy, about 8 years old, the son of Mr.
Timothy Donovan, living at the corner of'
Forrest and Douglass streets, who was
eating a piece of water melon, and dragged
the child into the street, bruising it severe.
ly; a colored man rescued the child, but
immediately the attack
,was- renewed by
the sow, who was again and agaiit_beaten
off by the bystanders, until the father °fate
child was obliged to kill the saw before , tbe.
child could be finally rescued. Several of
the persons present laid hold of the sow,and
it was with the greatest difficulty she could
be held until she was stabbed with a knife
and killed on the spot." •
.
A TEIIfrEIIAINTOR Inretne:er..—The New
Bedford Register entree that, a few days
since,.a dealer, in ardent -spirits.having ,re•
solved on relinquishing. the business, but
being poor and unable, to- bear the !moor
hie stock on hand, was waited on by a de.
potation, of the ifiehinginu
nene.e BOriety,whe offered to take all hie
hilanr• off hie halide. , they were realm&
ad from bitittiop. 01 , 4 pl a ced in , the -ittreßit
and it 12 'o'clock, _the .bnur aptaiipted. II
iltlYnter:ot perorate essamtiled.-add the Vice
Prosideni of, the r Sactelv t . " ne .! es.
marks eiiiiropriiiiji to the ocipoidn. PrP°!tra
nd'.Wilh &ice id,‘ rid• '
• 1 4 01-
foot' Cells — containtrtir ihn li 4 /M4 7 :'
ling of rum,
brindy. gin. and wine, Wail tt,
wae suffered to flow into the &Utter. • ,