P,014
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4~]t~ C~~wF~CtIuI.TJo
Vlarith 91qt,CtCht flowerseorich'd
From various gardcnt calla with care."
r . (0111 Graham's NI aginina, I'm. January.
LINES,
Written on a Portrait of Gen, IV:Marn Bair!'
Ilarriar.n
lir 14119. ARIILIA TS. VIZLIIT
Flail p'ctured image !. tlxiao immortal art,
Until suatell'il from the arms . of denth,.
In whose broad bosom twat the noblest heart
That over drew on earth a balmy breath;
For while amid the sons of oxen ho trod, ,
That true'uobility whim was given
Nl'hose zeal is stumped by an approving Clod,
Whose ever blooming tale conics front heaven
The fires of genins glistened in kis glance.
'Twas written.on his clear expansive brow,
Thal men might look upon its clear expanse
And read that God end Nature tniidis him so;
.Y.at that trtir jetnplc could not always keep
The soul hoprls(";netrifille - eirilily'hars;
Burn for the skies, his god•like soul loth sweep
The boundless circles of the radiant stars.
How soft the placid smile theit seemed to blek
Round those pule features; once the spirit's shrine
And hover round those lips that only ask •
A second impress from the hand divine!
And look upon that brow ! a living:light '
Plays like a sun beam o'erlis silver ttir,
As if the happy spirit in its flight
}lad left a saint•like glory trembling there•
Yet tho' same skilful hand may softly paint
The noble form and features we ad,.to
such deeds as thins are left, Oh happy_wiut I .
And left alone for Memory to restore.
And still thy virtue like 11 soft perfume
That rises from a boil of failing flowers,
Immortal as thysrlf, shall bud and bloom
Deep its those Leans, these grateful hearts of ours
HOns of Columbia l'yo whose spirits soar
Eloto with joyous hopes and youthful fires,
Go, imitate the bero . you deplore,. -
For this is all that God or man requires.'
Oh ! while you bend the pensive brow of grief,
Muse on the bright example lie'has given,
And strive to follovv your ascended chief
Whose radiant foot prints lead to Lam ant? hue
von.
Oh guard his grave! It is a roletnn trust,
Nor let a single fuemsn preey the soil
Beneath whose vertlure.aleeps the -aucred duet
Once hallatv'd by, the quieleningbreath.of tiud,
Thus ia his lonely grandeur.lel him lie
Wrapt in his grave on fairOlua's sham
His deeds, his virtues, ell that could net die,.
Remain with us, and shall fat retmore.
5113 31111LI.SaTr4rIa/ .00
rx.o.unigon WILLESDEN.
A TALE OF 'REAL LIFE.
'Ti. a comm.ln t4:O,
An ordinary purrnw of M 41 1 .11 life;
A tide Of pliant atilrering,liardly
In bodily forin:,—NunriawonTiv.
A. villnize in the south. of England is one
of the loveliest sights in nature: and - it, is
what it StIt?(1:14, the very nestling. place, of
poetry, hive and happiness. It glitters
witlt its white wnshed cottages and garden
walls, among the groan trees; 'mid which
it is erahowernd, like the golden fruits of
Spam, peeping. from heneath the, rich foli
age *,at does but:partially conceal them.-- 7
fit" • meadows, its streams, its
,tapering
ChurGh.Spire, its hedgerows, .Its lanes of ;
sweet.with
It 6 ar rind wild roses, its lattices,
their cluster mg Je'ssainine and honeysuckle;
Ile gardens, with their bee hives; its (web.
Inds with. their oderif orm is hlo.sains; and
above all; its simple, -yet , cheerful - inhabi
tants; ignorant Of the grest.worldi arid-rift
wilting to have thatignorance,,eolightened;
nll combine to render -a 'Village. in the
southern port lons o 1 England, one, o f l h e .
mast.delightful spots in the universe. H or s,
sweet to retire from the world to .suel..gt
heaven of repose; -and there to cultivate:
wily the purer afF!rtiiins of one's nature,;
arid ke.tp thin soul divi:led 1w a raichow
'zone, from the grosser atmosphere of corn
mon existence.. There are many little
iparadipea of the kind I speak oh, and I
should be content with any of them; al-
Ithough, if l had my choice, I should per
haps fix upon Woodburn in preference to
all the rest. - My predeliction is the more
singular, as all . my associations connected
with the recollection of that village are
. of
a peculiarly,melancholy cast. Even there,
the spoiler, sorrow, had found an entrance;
and his victims were not unknown to me.
-I will endeavor to recut their story; it is a
simple one; but it suits well the mournful
temper of my mind, and I shall therefore
avail myself of this opportunity - to nar
rate it.
Lot me paint her as I first saw her. It
was in her . cottage garden, on a bright
summer morning, when the dew was still
sparkling on the flowers. She held a book
in her hand, but she was not reading. She
stand wrapped in a delightful reverie, wnh
her eyes fixed on two young rese.bushes.—
1 knew net then that she. WEIS my old
friend's only child, yet I stopped involunta
rily to gaze.upon her. I bud never before
' seen ought so beautiful; and that too, .with
out the shadow of• pretence. I cannot de.:
scribe her features, but their combined
effect was irresistable. - There was a world
rifexpresdon—an übfathomable depth of
feling in hor dark blue eye. I saw a tear
start into it; but the feeling that called it
up was merely transient, for a smile gaiVi
ered upon her lips immediately al;erwards.i
and chased away with its light the little
h,tbinger of sorrow. At that moment the
gate was thrown open, and a 3 outh entered.
lie was her lover: I knew it at a glance.
A deeper crimson spread itself upon her
check, and her smile kindled into one of
more intense delight. They stood togeth
er; England could nut have produced a
nobler pair., They seated themselves in.
the sunshine: the youth took the book and
rend aloud. It was a poetic page over
which they hung. She leant her white
arm on her lover's shoulder, and gazed
open bun .with delighted and breathless
attention. . Who is it, that said there is no
happiness on earth? Had he seen Edmund
and Florence on that calm,, blue morning,
he would have confessed the absurdity °las
creed.. „ •
Edmund was the oldest son of the village
rector, a man "ro all the country dear.r--,
Florence was the daughter of nn old,. re
vected eolJier.,iyho had served in many a
.cltain3iza„.al;il naw.lived in retirement.
Upon the small pension which was giVen
hint by governnient, as a reward of 11;s long
and valu.ible services. She had •lust her
mother almost before she knew her, and all
her filial affection wps centered in her only
sun lying parent. Her heart she had kip
stowed upon Edmund, and he was by . no
means Insensible of the gift. They had
been companions from their infancy ! .All
their recollections of times past were the
stone, for all their amusements and studies
had been similar. But Edmund hadmado
considerable mute progress than .Florence.
Nature had.heaped upon him. all those
mental endowments-that constitute genius.
She had given hint a mind capable of the
r rofoundest aspirations.a heart that could
feel more deeply, a fancy that could wing
a holdor,flight, than those of most ,other
youths of his age. Ile to yet, knew noth•
ing of the state or society beyond the limits
of Woodburn. ' He had never been more
than twenty mikurcrom lime, during his
whole life. . .
But ho was now eighteen, and Florence to speak, but could not; a mist swam before
was only a year younger. They had her eyes; she hold out her hand, and threw
ceased to be boy and girl. She, indeed, herself into lair father's arms. ~,
would save been contented to have contin- It was Sty(urday evening, and she knew
tied as she was forever, blest • with her that Edmund had.arrived early on the pre.
fathoes and lover's affection; . more than woos day, but she tiaa not yet rim him.—
hapoy in the 'clischorga of her domestic Shp was sitting.in the summer house of her
duties; in hersumtner evening rambles, in father's garden, when she heard a step on
her books, her bees, her fruits, her flowers. the gravel walk; she looked through the
But Edmund, although ho loved her with willows. and honey suckle: it .was he I he
all the enthusiasm of a first love, had more himself—in all the ,bloom and beauty of
ambition in his . nature. Ho wished to dawning manhood. -A strange,shivering
mingle . in the crowd, in the pursuit of glory; passed over her, whole frame, and her color.
and be had hopes that he might outstrip . nt went and came with fearful rapidity. Yet
least soma of his competitors. Besides, he she retained her self possession, and with
was notpossessed at .nn independent for. apparent calmness, ripe to, receive him
tune; and exertion, therefore,becante a duty. when ho entered. The change, in heron.
His :resolution was at once. formed; he pittance, however, struck him immediate.
determined to fix his resideuce in Landon, ly: "Good God I have you been ill? you
for at least a couple rot years,. and ascertain are altered, sadly altered, sine() I•saw you
whether; in truth, ability was thereita own last." : "Does that strike you nett° :very,
reward. It was sad news, to Florence; but woudorlul,,Edmund?" said Florence grave,
on re fl ecting on the ad-tantages which Ed• ly; "are you not altered; too?" "Oh, Flor
inund might derive from .the execution of ence I I have behaved to you like a villain I
the scheme, she looked upon , her grief as 1 - see it now, cruelly, fatally do
.I see it I"
selfish, and etiderivoed to restrain it. The "Edmund. that.
I,4 ‘ fdipyq you, yeu setting.
evening before ho left , Woodburn, illy. i sun, which ehene u p on us when last we par
took a farewell walk together, • in, her ited, can . still attest, for it. was the witness of
father's' garden.. Florenc e had _succeeded; rry . grief. It hati,igieu the,witness too,of
in ; keeping up a Om of - cheerfulnets• du..l the tears . l have slted'ip my solitUde, tears
ring, the , day; but as the. yellow ; .hearro ofl which have been revealed to no earthly eye;
the setting sun came Streaming in through i and it shallbe the Witness, even yet," she
the poplars and elms that lined the wall, !continued, an almost heavenly smile Ilium.
and as she thought how often ~ they had noting her pale Countenance, "of our recers
seen the sun set before, and; how long it , ciliation, for the wanderer has returned, and
would be ere tbey,should see it again, a I .his errors are forgiven.". ,She held out,_her
chord was toughed which vibrated througlif , hand to him as she spoke, but he shrunk
her heart, end she emit(' no longer realism. ; back; "1 date cot—kdare not . take it:, '1 t Osten
her tears, . Edmund . besought , her, with late! Florence,) am married!" There was not
iti e utmost tpnderrlen of mammy, : not to a somidsscapett her lips,but her cheeks grew
give way , to emotions, -so violent; but :she .deadly pale;her eyesbecarne as fixed as stone,
only locked his hand more firmly in . lic,r, and she (ellen the ground like a marble statue.
.oivn, ond,ansid the eimvulsive sobs,tepeated ;-- Her gravy it.4,in the church yard of Wood
again—"Edmund! we shall. rawer
_meat % burn; she hes-beside.her father. There is
more! lam not superstitihtis, but 1 know 'no Utrl . nor
,toonume . ntel ta l .det to mark the
that lam right;we shall never met m ore !" slim, but I should knots'', j.t.atnong
• a thou
Iler lover had recourse to every thing. sand. Edmund's latne_has travelled into
argument he could think of; butthough ithei other countries,..and.men have leolsed•up to
14 length became calm, a gloomy present, ion as a denim god. Florence %lillesdpii
fi tllitl llf future evil seemcd to Itrvo taken , was never hoard of beyond t h e hunts of
licwie4ion of his mind. ; t oodburn till vow. ...-
d. 77.a.C.Z111GT011 130 1 77Z15, ran Ton, Isnprarzieroßi.
- -
The liberty to, know, to utter, and to zregne, freely, is above all other libertiesi”—gli.Ton
avteTlrau3VZl2lle .2a.00 erzilall)& 7 9 'a 4 2 2l2 nW l alaire 934 aaas<,
,A year had elapsed, and Edmund's early
dream :lad been more than realized. Ho
had risen into fame .at once; his, reputation
as - a man' of., genius was acknowledged
throughout his native land. •His fortune
was secured,,and his opinions listened to
with defforenco and admiration. Timm
seems to be no honors to which he might
not hope to attain.. .1.1 is • ardent spirit, and
I m
his growing ambition becao only the
!more insatiable. Every difficulty had
yielded before him; he had flown upon the
wings of success; his life had hitherto been
; a brilliant dream —a dream from which • he
saw no prospect ofimmediate awakening. •
It was evening, and lin was alone in, her
splendid drawing , room, with: the. loveliest
woman in,London—the daughter.of a vie•
j count. A hundred tamps, reflected by a
hundred mirrors, shone around them.—
There was to be a magn:fieent entertain
ment, but the company ha d not yet arrived.
Edmund and the lady Matilda would not
have cared had they never arrived at all.—
jThey sat,near each other, and talked in
low, soft tones, of all that youilvand beauty
love best to talk about. Edmund had
never felt so vain in his life before; for there
-were hundreds, in the metropolis, blest with
all the advantages (4 rank and birth, ,who'
would have given both their titles and fur.
tunes to haVe secured ()Nil of those smiles
which the proud maiden now lavished upon
him. And she—she,had read his works,
she thought of his fame, she
,looked upon
his elegant form and handsome features,
and forgot the hundred
. scions of nobility
who bad offered their incense at her shrine.
A earn age was heard to stop, and .they
wore soon to be interrupted. "1 have in
ken a fancy to that emeral:l ring of yours,"
saidthe•ludy Matilda, "will you exchange
it for one of tniner . She took a glittering
diamond from her finger, and petit on
Edmund's; and at the same time Ills emer•
ald became one of the ornaments of the
prettiest hand in the world.• It was a ring
which Flcrenee land given him, the very
morning he left Woodburn.
Thu two years he was. to bp away had
expired. "Florence," said her father to
her one morning, "I n.r.ter saw you looking
so well, your cheeks are all robes, my
sweet girl; have you been watching The
sun . risel" 1 - larence turned away her
head, for a moment, to brush a horning
tear from her eye, and then answered cheer
fully to her unsuspecting father,, that she
had seen the run rise. There was not 'a
person in_ Weedborn, except .her father.who had not observed how dreadfdlly Flor.
erica . was altered-oat in her manners; her
habits,nor conversairombut in her loolis..Eler
cheek, it is true, .was red : but it was the hot
flust of feverther eye was bright but it was
clearness of .an insidious malady. •
She had heard of Edmund's success, and
there ‘vas.not a heart in the world that beat
so proudly at the intelligence; but she soon
heard;of more than, his .success, nod his
letters became fewer, sfiorter and.colder.--
When her .father was from home, she would
sit for hours in her garden, by, herself ; Hs.
teeing ,as she said, to the chirping.of the
birds, but weeping bitterly all the while. .
. "I have not heard you speak of Edmund
lately," said her father to her ; one , day, a
bout the beginning of June.. "1 do not think
of him the less," answered Florence, with a
faint smile. The old man knew•nothing of
his apostacy. "I have good news for you,"
said he; "I saw the rector today, and Ed
mund is to be in Woodburn by the end of
the week." Florence grew pale; she tried
THE FOOL'S PENCE.
.. Ir. the year in a handspmelv fur
niched parlor which opened out of that
note.d London gin shop called "The Punch
bowl," sat its m6tress, the gaudily dressed
Mrs, Crowder, conversing with an-obseqpi.
ous nei:;hbur.
ts Why, Mrs. Crewder, I really trust any
you have things in the first style! , What
elegant papering! what noble - chr►irs! what
a pair of fie screens!. all .so :bright and
fresh! Then, the elegant stonecopings to
your windows; and thoSe beautiful French
window frames? And you have been send,
mg your daughters to the genteelest board
ing school; your shim is the best furnished,
and your cellars are the best filled, in all
this past of Lunnun. Where can you fluid
the needful for all these grand things? Dear
Mrs. Crowder, how do you mannger . •
Mrs. Crowder simpered, and cast a loo!..
of smiling contempt through the half 'open
ed door, into the shop, filled with draughty
customers. "The feels' Tug
FOOLS' rEsce that does it fur us," she said.
And her voice rose, more shrill and loud
than usual,.with the triumph she felt.
tier words reached the oars of one cue
tomer- -George Manly, the carpenter, who
stood near the counter. Turning his eyes
upon those uround him, he saw pale, sunken
cheeks,. inflamed • eyes,. and ragged gar.
moots. He then: Wined them upon the
stately apartment: he looked. through the
door into the parlor, and saw looking glasses
and pictures, and gilding ; and tine furniture
and a rich carpet, and Miss Lucy in a silk
gown, at her 'piano: and he thought to him ,
self, how strange it is! how curious, that all
this wretchedness on my left hand should
be made to turn into all this rich finery on
my right!
! , Wel!, sir—and whst's fur Your said ,
the, shrill voice which had teade.the tooLs!
eszven ring ni-his.ears.; . • : •
"A glass of gin', ma'am, is what I was
Nailing for, hut, I think .I've. paid the laq
fools' pence that 1 shall put down on this
counter for many a long day."
Manly hastened home.. Ills wife tind his
two little girls were seatek at work: 'l'hev
were thin and pale, really for want of food.
The room, ooked very cheerless, and their
fire was so small as hardly to befell; yet the
(fullest observe( would have been struck by
the neatness that reigned around..
It was,n joyful surprise to them, his re
turning
,so early that night, and returning
sober, and in good humor.
oyea.aro w e ek to-night, wife,"
said George, "or else yea have been crying
I'm afraid. you you work too much by candle
light."
His wife smiled and' said “itOrkirig does'
not hurt my eyet.4;" and she beekpraid to her
little boy, who Was standing apart—evident
ly as a culprit. • " • • '
W hy, John, what's this seer said his
father.• "Come and tell me what - you have
been doing." • •
John.was apiain spoken bay, 'and ha'd a
straight for Ward way. He',came up to his
father, and looked fait in his lace; mid said:
'"The baker crime fur hiS money tonight,
and would not leave the loaves without it;
but though he was"eross'and rough,' he said
mother was- not to blame, and 'that ho was
sure yriu',hcid been"drinking eiWay rill the
money; . and when tie was gone mother
cried over her werk, but else did not Say
any thing. did not' know she was crying
till 1 Saw 'her tears"dropping on her-hands;
and then I avid bad words; and mathet sent
me to stand in•the . corner." •
"Tell.,.me what your ",bad 'words were,.
John," surd his'
,father; ,"not
,sweartng; 'I
hope?" . •
"No," said John, coloring, 44 said, you
were a bad mane I said, bad father!"
h "And they were bad wordS, laM Sure,",
said his mother; but you 'are forgiven;
,811
now bring me some coal from the box."
George looked at the face - of his wife;
and as he flirt the tender gaze of her mild
eyes now turned to him, he felt the tears
in his own. He rose up; and putting mo•
ney into her bands, lie said, "There are my
week's wages. -Conic, Come, hold out both
hands, for you have not -got till yet. Lay it
out for the hest, as you alwayS do. 1 hope
this' will be Wbeginning of bettei doings on
my part, and happier days on, yours:"
Gtirge told his wife after • the children
were gone to bed, that when he saiv what
the • pence of the poor could do !awards
keeping up a fine house, and dressing out
the landlord's wife and daughters, and when
lie thought of his " own hardworking,
untornplaiiiiu,g Susan, and his children in
want, and'' almost in rage;while he ivaa
sttiing drinking, night after night, destroy:
ing his health and strength;he Was•se'st mak
With sorrow and shame; that he senined to
come to hiniself at .last. He determined,
from that hour, never again. to put .the in.
texicating glass to his lips. •
More ihan a year afterwards, one Sun
day afternoon, as Mrs. Crowder, of 'the
Punch bowl, was walking with her dnugli•
ters to the tea-gardens, they were overlie
ken by a'vtialeitt• shower of rain; and had
becothe at least half drenched, when they
entered a doifortable house, distinguiNhed
by its comforts and tidiness from all • others
near it. Its gnodnatured mistress and her
two girls did all they could. to Ary and wipe
away the raindrops and mud-splashes from
the ladies' title silk gowns, till.draggled and ,
soiled, and. to repair; as tar as •pcssible,
every . mischief dune to their dresses and
prsons. •• , .
• When all had been done that cou;il he '
done. and, as Miss Lucy said, they "begin)
to look themselves agiiin,',Miss Crowder.
who wiry lolling in t large arm•clicir, and ,
amosing.herself by a itarki at 'evefy - one and
every thing la the room,: suddehly started
forward; and addressing•herSelt ta.the mas
ter -of the house: whole Bible and whose
face had just caught her eye'. "Wliy, tuy
good _man, we are. old friends; I .know. sour
face, Pm eel tain; still there is . soma change
in you, though 'l , call% exactly Hay what
it• itt.e! .
I use& In be in !vied 'clothes . and out
rrf healtli,"• . said Geerge•Manly,•
ihenlc••.God, I amcoinfortubly clad,
ancl:in excellent hroltli.' •
"But :now is it;" Reid Mrs: Crowder , ,
'abut we nt.ver catclin eight oi , you .n 0%%?"
“Madam said he, 'inn sore 1 wish you
well; nnY,! I have reason to thank you; for
words of yours first opened 'my eyes to my
oWn foolish.•and wicked course. My wife
and children were hall - nuked and 'half
starved, only this. -limo last year. Look
at • them, it you please, now—for sweet,
contented looks, and -, decent • clothes,• 11l
match them with any man's wile and
children. And now, madam, I tell you as
you told a friend of yours one day last
yen r,—'tis Forms' rinTcti. shut. have • donr
all this for vs. The Fools' pence !
ought rather to say, the pence - earned by'
honest, industry; and • spent so• that we can
ask the blessing of,Gud.upon the penee.'
illre. Crowder never recovered the custo
nor al,e had lost. •
IMPORTANT' TO FA RMERI."-A few
weeks since we published a communication
from a correspondent, giviog the results of
an experiment in planting corn, by Hart
MoSsey, Esq. of this village.- Mr. Massi.y
called upon us on Saturday last trycorreeh
an; mportant error•in said . communication,
and invited us personally to examine i,- ; 11re
said field, which we accordingly did and-
now give the results of our-observation..
Mr. Massey trrolt the seed corn , Awith
which. he planted the field, n small (Nano;
ts', and soaked it in' a solution of salt nitre
commonly culled ~•tiaptrter, and .planted
five rows with
,the seeds. thus .preparetl,-- , . !
The remainder. oldie field; we belie.ve, was
ohnited.by the .same iddividudl.. Now for
the result.. The five :rows' plaided with
corn prepared. with aalt•petrer will yield
more than twenty live; rows planted without
any. preparation. The . five ~ rows were
unteuched by. the worms, while. the . re•
mainder of the field suffered severely' by
their depredations. 'We'sKiuld. judge that
tiot..ene kernel, saturated; with'eult petrtr'
Wssioeched, while almost , every hall .in '
the ndieining, row suffered. severely.. • No
ono who wilLexamins the.field can rioubt
the' elliescy.‘ of . the pfeperation.' Ile will
he astonished at the striking diffi:rence. be!
tween,lhe.five rous.and the rtetnaf.rider
the field. - . •: :
hero is •a simple Nct, which if .seasona.
hly,. and generally known, would .have
!laved many thousands of dollars to the
fariners'of this - county alone, in.t he article
of:corn. is .a faci, which should be
universally: known, and is, in all probabili
ty, one of the•grentest discnveries of mod
ern times in:tho . mitah neglected science of
agricultute. At.allrevents, - tho'experiment
should be extensively tested, as the .results ;
are deemed certain while •the expense is
comparatively nothing: •
Mr. M. •also- staled :as to the result' of
another e x periment tried upon :one of: his
'apple trees last spriog. It is a tine thrifty
healthy tree, about :twenty-five or • thirty
years old, but has/never in any . enc . , year
produced .over about two bushels of apples:
'While in blossom -last spring•; ho ascended
tlio :tree and sprinkled plaster freely on
'the blossom4,:and the result 'is, that it will
this season yield twenty bushels of apples.
Now if the plaster will prevent-, the , blast,
it is a discovery of great irnpoi
'IIr. •M . was lead •to make the •experiment
'by:reading an account• of the: •production
of trees adjoining a medow • wore :plaster•
had.ber.4l sown at a time--When there :was
a light breeze in the direction _of the • or
chard, the trees contiguous to the meadow.
bearing well, while the, otheri produced no
fruit,-IVatereown.(N. • Y.) Siandaig.. •
==:=
AN Eutron tv Tintverx.—lllr. Prentice,'
of the Louisville Journal . ,-saysi—“Our rea
ders must bear with-us n little
well known to °dr friends that the senior ad.'
itor of this paper lost the use of hie right
band, in.writiog, some 'nine years • ago.—
Subsequently to , this calamity, he betook
liimsell to the use of his left hand, with
which he continued to write till about three.
weeks ago, when this too failed liim-:-worn
Out in the cause of his party and ins coun.,
try.. He is now .under the.care of the best
medical.talent of the city, -from which . .
ardently. limes 'fora' speeds . cure •of his
Most singular malady." ; -
-_...0'.~c..-.
DEATtz oF'• GrtiioA:c..—G roger), 'did
'patriot, whose seizure in Vermont; cud firi••
pi bzoninent in 51ontrenl, last l'ullicatised
much nuii=e;-died at Champlain on the 7th
Jun: ' • ' •
lI-
I I tIODEI2N DlClTlolctily.--4/4Or--A our
wrote)), whO every day eiiiptiey.hisbrain
is order to fill his
Virtue—Ari awkward. habit of nctlllg,„
differently from ,nther Iwnple. A vulgar
word It' creates great mirth in fushiona
,
hie circles. .
/lonor,--Shno!ing a friend thrnugh the
head .whom you laic., in order to.gain prake
of a lemrothers, whom you deapiae end hate.
Murrioge—The gate through which the
happy lover -leaves the' enetiampd.regforiti
nnd rrttl-ns to etrth —N. I' &las.
wcbaco.tm qra-g;
_ . . .
I : .f.i: Samrcii or "Boa:'-'• - •6-the' , editor of
the IV oreeeter, ii;:gitt, _gives • rho s rtilloWing
ylvitclr, of the person of.:11r. Dickeni..: . .
."Wei - found a middle sii" , d person, in 'd
i brown ' I rock' cOat; a red'Sgtired vest, sonic—
what of the hash wider, nod a fintev itiNt'h ,
Ic in vat, that concealed the cfrlfar,- and ;wee
! fastened to the bosom in rather t ohiptuoi*
rfonis by n dwible pin nod clodin, Its vie
portion.' were wen mutt& d, and fillid the
dress he iitire. ' His-hair, Which waa long
,
i and dark; Lt rOtv'lnWlipon -the brow, :had a
wavy link where it started fritni the head;
I and wad' naturnlly .or artifieitilly - cork=
screwed us it FA on either side rif hififacer:
His forehend retreated gradontly - frotn - the
epat4, without , any Marked sittittitterdnce s '
AttOil at the Outer angel, the ripper pOrtion
of which formed'a Ur (((( sinent-ridge'a Mini
within the assigned position of ill.: organ of
likality. . The sliih - ori thst, poi - taut Of the.
brow which was not concealod In the hair%
instead of bring-light unit snio..tb, fl i3hed
as readily as any tya , t of the fare: and'
partook of its general character and fl. - tot
hility. The whole region about the eyes
was prriminent,' with a mdiceable rit rellipet
meta of nerves and vessels, indicating 'say ,
the phrenologists, oral iittor in tie: had
lectual °twins %vitt) which they ore 'coil ,
nected. • The et e.balls completely: filled
their sockets.- ' , The aperture of the lido'
was not largo, nor the ' eye uncommonly'
clear or broth!, bit quit*, moist and eit ,
pressive.' 'flin Wise was slightly-aquiline
--the mouth of moderate diniengions, 'aia•
king • ittrgrent'displey of the teeth, the ,
fitcial impales -occasionally drawing the
upper lip most stilrorigly on the lett aide, an
the ',Keith ;opened in -yenning. • ilia fel-
tures, taken Together, were well proper--`
tinned,- of-a -glowing and cordial • aspect.
with nine animation (Nan grace, and Inure '
intelligence than beauty." - ---
PAT 'ina:MEMlANte.—The rich - trian
who employs a• free:theme dues not - alweys
know bite .Intielf inconvenience, to-a Of •
tiutr avid 1-xpense.he exposes I to; :bp
'neglecting. -to pay. nn 'undisputed Oh'
proseritettnii, Without ?meg' too deep
into the 81/Itil!el. us verse it very. situ
pie .exateple, •of constent , oceurreisce.' A
Hillechattie undertakes' n job, for which his
honest charge is fifty tbdiars. It is done
to the se.tisfaction of - his employer. tie
.expects tiis•pey •rin the presentation of a
hill. 11' 11v - should Ito not receive it? • He.
C has no batik credits he pays cash for stotk o '
' end .he'pays cash fur labor; Ile has Ix en
•employed fur a week nn= that j•;11, , with
two or three journov men besides furnish
ina the raw material, pitying amp . . rent
and other expensive contingelicies. Why ,
snoold fin he risked to wait six months or a - -
year fir his money? lie-moat' pay-hiti
hands on Saturday; provide for 'his family -
during the week., pay:for bit,. stock, - and
•lay: up something against - rent day.-' is. it
•reas-itiable—is it just that - his employer.'
should' .risk him to' wait tor' his money
untithis convenient time, v:heni cash is not
scarce—when three percentum per month
s•not-to bo'had on-the loan at money .lbat
belongs tot:others; or which ought' to b*
appropriatedlo the payment _el his- honest --
debts, instead of Weeping and - fattening at
intereatma post notes--or contributing to
the at tificial wants of his grafi- -•
rechlesii_ spirit at speculatien in
- BtoClibl .is it •rightenus, is it
jost;that a mad of supposed wealth shoal
do thie;.and.leave the honest. and hard •
'work Mg- . mechanic to the mercy ot
-creditors,- the i inportunit lea ofjnumey men,-
.rind the.rapacity-mfusuricus estortionersl--
.Certaitilv nut. • . -•-•
Death from Swallowing a- Cent.—A.
child• about three years of age, son - of 'llr. -
Braohbv, • deceased; formerly orthiscityi
residing with its uncle,-.a mechanic, cage
grd at the coach making- establishm,nt-Auf
Mr. Force,- swallowed a cent-Bonze air en
eight days since, from the eff cts z.f which
it died yesterday afternoon. An cheese
lot med in the side atilt) little sufferer; eatut
-ed, it'is supposed,• by• the cent lodging in
-that region, which, previous' to its death. ,
laPerinio exceedingly tuneful. The child did .
not complain couch until a day or two fire
•vious to its latter.eri. --Med7cal amid wan
called in but without:avail.—Ba&-
.Pat,
It you fill a flower pot about
halt full •of quick lime, cover- over that rt .
good mould, and (Losers may thee be ob
tained in a very short time find At all sea . .
The earth ahotdd be. kept slightly
moistened , and pressed down' *harms& it
risen by the,swelling-of the .
HEIAVY- AtiAtNer rh. tittLIZOAD rsr
suit has been tried in BiNtoto
ly, which has excited some interest. It
was an action brought by a Signior Oa- •
•tinclii against the , AVoreehter tail road
company—first, for 8:0,000 damages, for
tin:leas of the services of his son, who had
.tr,:eti injured, ~ probably for life. from a
cellisioir of the car=; and secondly, for 13,..
000, &Akio additional, 'm-the " ',wad that
the son had been wintered inesjitiLbs
Ntvuorting himself br. life.. Jury,
govollitn , l2AoO dollars: for •bis son. and
000.iut hituseff.- - -
, AVIIM SAVINO2.--Frolt impure ttis=VlP
taste dißease, frniii bad camper, vice mod -
imperfection. . ' - - -
Tile -Dutch have tblegood prower!r—that
theite never enrich, alms waver impoverials,
nor prayerq hinder any work.
Thom is but one Ivey to ilf)avou 6or the
learned and th" unlearnod.