BY DAVID OYER. An Englishman in America, HIS OPINION OF WAR BETWEEN ENGLAND AND TU£ UNITED STATES. The following article appears in the London Shipping and Mercantile Gazette: SIR : I have now made tiie tour of the States of North America, and think it prob able I can give your readers some useful information. I landed at New York city ten mouths ago, and have spent my time in smdyuig the character and eustoms of those people, ami must confess that if I remained ten years the result would be the same; and 1 know very little about them. But upon one point —national pride—men, women and children are all alike, and the idea of au v nation of Europe, or the whole of them put together, conquering this country is per fcciiy absurd to them. Every body reads the pupers, and a good-humored urchin of twelve years used to rate me soundly at Philadelphia for our failures at Sebastopol. The best version of American sympathy was given me a few days siuce. When the war commenced the Turks were the weaker power, and our sympathies wore with her- After the alliance it was three against one, aud our sympathies went for Russia , but should Frauce join Russia to morrow against England, our government could not prevent jts citizens from not only sympathizing with England, but assisting her with material aid. This I heard from a very intelligent man, who I do not think suspected my nationality; and 1 firmly believe it. In the South I spent s .,uie time upon the plantations, aud many times held long conversation with the slaves, and always with the same result. They are much better satisfied than I suspected, and when 1 spoke of the probability of a war, 1 alas eusworcd that 'white folks wouldn't Jet nigga fight." "But," said I, 'the black 8 frofii the West Indies wili come here and help you to gain your freedom." "What! black soger come here; let 'em cum, den, luussa lej's fight de nigga, I know, and Gar Almighty we give 'em gush!" If not ex pressed in the saiue language the same feeling was ever expressed. I have visited aii their national armories, and although the country is at peace, the greatest activity prevails; all the oldaruisare condemned and by next rpriug uearly 1,500,- 000 Miuie, rifles will be ready for distribu tion, besides Colt's Clark's and others. A Mr. Alger, at Boston is now engaged on a new* kiud of gun for the uavy. The range, with solid shot, is nearly five miles; with shell, somewhat shorter, and the explosion of the s'aei', renders conflagration certain to a great distance. These are ealiod, by those at work on them, the seeretgun. But what the secret is 1 could not ascertain. Since the war rumors I have been ob.-ervatn of all and every thing that could give rue a clue to the feeling of the people. This is not pifficult to come at, for the feeling is general aua their confidence is so great in their own strength that the most dffiient speak only of the consequences and the result. In com pany with a party of merchants, most of whom were engaged in trade with England' 1 broached the war subject, aud was aston ished to find them so indifferent about the circumstances. One of them, largely in terested in the clipper ship, in answer to a remark of mine, that he would have to lay up his clippers—"Not a bit of it," said he, "they will make capital privateers; the govcrnmenr wil' furnish guns of long range no British man-of-war catch them except a steamer, and they cannot in a good breeze, so we must take chances." ''But where wiil yoa get your men?" "Where! W 0 have 84,000 enrolled fishermen who will flood our sea-ports, and I will tell you can didly that less than six months after war is declared lUcie will be 500 of the fastest vessels in the world afloat as privateers, and ar, English meichantman will not be able to show herself at sea. What if we lose a iew, wa will make it up in the end. Two steamer# were launched a few days since, .each about 4,000 and in less than ton years it will be one of the States of the Uuion. The Canadians a re a very royal set and think they could take possession of the States at a moment's warning. Tbey have caught the habit of bragging from their neighbors without liar, ing the wherewith to brag on. A trip up the lakes is the most convincing proof we can have of the difference in the two people. In the American are well-finished cities and towns, saw mills, railroads running in every direction—in fact, you seldom lose sight of the locomotive—and there are innumerable steamers at every landiog. On the Cana dian, where there arc settlements, yon see the well-kept, comfortable dwellings, the smooth-sheared lawn, and every thing wears an air of comfort; but little or no business with the exception of the great railroad.— However they are rapidly improving; but should there be war, the largest and best portions of Canada are lost to us. Quebec Halifax, and other points would bother the in. But to sum up iny own observations after every opportauity that one man could have afforded him, the result would be as follows: Mexico, Cuba, and the whole of Central America would be annexed in the South and I have little doubt of Canada, in the North; millions of treasure and thousands of valua ble lives lost to England for ever; our commerce crippled in every sea, and some fighting that will gladden the hearts of our tried soldiery. Now, what can we gain? A foot of ter ritory? We den't want it: and if we did' six feet for the majority of our brave fel lows, I fear, would be the extent. Naval or military glory wo don't want, and as fo r the sand beech of ths Mosquito king it is a decided humbug. What wculd be the re sult to this country? It would put her back in prosperity for half a century; it would ruin tbousouds who are now in affluence, but would enrich thousands who are now poor> But the great advantage tbe Americans have is that they can produce and manufacture every thing they want,; the different climate affords this. They would get accustomed to their own good- and discard ours for evt*r. But the greatest injury to all parties and I may say to the world whould be th e making of this nation of 25,000,000 a warlike people, and, once instilled with tbe love of war, the propagandists of Europe would have a fearful ally. The last year's crop of wheat is officially given at 170,000,- 000 of bushels, and every thing else in pro portion, so that we cannot *tarve them out• and, from my own observation, I would rather see England contending with the whole of Europe than against this country, lam no croaker, nor have I any doubt of l he power and wealth of my beloved coun try, and, if need be could again handle a musket for her honor and glory; but the day that war is declared between these two mighty rivals a contest will be commenced that will bring more horrors iD its train than the world ever yet witnessed. There is another item which I am like to forget. Many of tuy countrymen place great dependance on the abolitionists, or friends of freedom in this country; but I assure you their greatest protection here is their insignificance They flourish as long as thought harmless, but the slightest sus picion of their collusion with a forcgu foe and they would be annhilatcd; in fact, 1 have proved to my entire satisfaction that those terrible and exciting questions are on ly intended for poll*seal effect; but attach any importance to them affecting the inter ests of the country, and they are gone. Yon would, no doubt,be astonished to hear that many children of foreigner*, and, in fact ) foreigner* themselves, are know-nothings, started to prescribe them; but such is tbs fact. I have extended my remarks further than I intended, but they have one desira ble feature—that is, truth. Should tbey prove acceptable, 1 may again intrude on you. I remain, yours, JAMES B. WARREN. Buffalo, New York, Jan. 12, 1355. From House/told Words. Tlie Legend of Argl*. One of the most curious and pathetic le gends of Wallachia tells of the foundation of the great metropolitan chureh of Argis. In the middle of the fifteenth century, the Prince of Niagoe, warring against the Turks, was on the eve of fighting a great battle, aud went to the hermitage of a Di ons anchorite, before whom he made a vox that if victorious, he would build on that very spot the most splendid temple that cer sought the rays of the sun. Consequently it is supposed that, his victory was com plete. The ottomans were dispersed; and he t had nothing to do but accomplish his promise. Princes are usually faithful in these kiud of undertakings. Niiigoe had much wealth at Lis command, and kuew of an able architect named Manoli. To him he entrusted the task of constructing the temple—bidding Litn collect the best Greek, Arab, and Byzantine workmen. That sol itary region was accordingly soou peopled with strangers. The forests began to retire, the flanks of the mountains were torn open; and the bears that locked in while passing down the long glades on the ruins became convinced that their occupation in that part of the worid was gone forever. j Manoli set about Lis task with enthusi | asm. There were day gangs and night gangs, so that the walls rose as if by magic. Already the topmost pinnacle began to appear to the distant traveler over the sur ! rounding trees, when suddenly the edifice sunk into the ground, and spread upon it in ruin. Manoli attributes this disaster to some defect in bis plan, or to the too great baste with which it was carried out; and began again with more caution Hut no soonei had the building reached its former elevathn, than down it came again. Not one stone remained upon auother. Manoli had confidence in his own talent, and tvas therefore convinced that some invisible power was determined to cross his purposes. He would have been inclined to give up the work altogether; but Niagoe had become furious. As usual in building enterprises, the expense of the first construction ex ceeded the estimate by at least half. To effect the second, the prince was obliged to sell the diamonds of his wife. His vow was costing him dear, but be dared not break it. The simpler course was to swear by bis beard that Manoli should be decapitated, and all the workmeu hanged if the church was not fiuisbed by a giveu time. Under these circumstances, Manoli went to consult the aged anchorite who had wit. nessed Prince Niagoe's vow, and asked him what was to be done. "Build again," was the reply, "and when the last stone is about to be laid, come to roe, by that time 1 may have found an expedient." Manoli accord ingly, for the third time brought the church near completion. Then he paused and wont to the anchorite, who received him with a glare of horror such as be had never seen before, hurriedly interrupted bis pious salu tation, and said in a strange unearthly voice, "Watch to-morrow from the pinnacle and the first woman thou beholdest ap proaching from the easr, cause her to be taken, when she reaches the place of work, with whatever she may have in her arms, and walled up within one of the pillars of the churoh. Thus only will success crown thy efforts." Manoli was a humane man, and his heart shrank within him on hearing this order.— But his own life and that of many others was at stake, and he went away from the cell, sadly determined to obey what be con ceived to be a divine command. Ho was awakened next morning by the singing of his workmen, and climbed up immediately to the appointed piace; when, shading hta eyea from the low sun with his hand, he auxionsly looked forth. Some time passed and no female form appeared. At length a alight figure was Been approaching down the grade, in the midst of a slight rniat kindled into gold by tbe still slanting rays of the sun. Manoli was about to rejoice, when suddenly be recognized in bis devoted vic tim, bis young wife Uca—bis wife of two summers, only, tbe mother of tbe boy whose smiles and even wh for the life of him, cannot 'see it,' The Runaway Match. A great many years since, when bright eyed and fair haired lasses were not so plen ty in New England as tbey now are, there dwelt iu the town of P ,a pretty vil liage, distant then, some five aud twenty miles from Mardet town, a peculiarly come ly and graceful maideD, who had a peculiar ugly and cross-grained but wealthy old father. Minnie was Dauforth's only child, and report said truly that she would be his sole legatee. The old man was a sturdy and was estimated to be worth full teu thou sand dollars; at that period a very hand some fortune, indeed. The sparkling eyes and winning manner of Minnie Danforth had stirred up the finer feelings of the whole male portion of the village, and her suitors were numerous, but her father was particular, and none suc ceeded in making headway with hiin or her. Iu the meantime, Minnie bad a true and loyal lover in secret! Who would have supposed for one momeut that such a fel low would dare to look upon beauty and conipatative refinement ? Ilis name was Walker, or, as he was generally called, "Joe," —Joe Walker; and be was simply a farmer, employed by old Danforth. who had intrusted Joe with tho management of his largo place two or three years. But a very excellent farmer and a right good manager, was this plain and unassum iog but good looking Joe Walker. He was young too, only twenty three; and he actually fell in love with the beautiful, pleasant, joyous Minnie Danforth, his em ployer's only daughter. But the strangest part of the occurrence was that Minnie re turned his love earnestly, truly and frankly, and promised to wed him at the favorable moment. Things want on merrily for a time, but old Danforth discovered certain glances, and atteniions between tlieui which excited his"early suspicions. Very soon afterwards Joe learned the old man's mind, indirectly, in regard to the future disposal of Minnie's hand, and he quickly saw that his case was a hopeless one. unless he resorted to strata gem, and so he put his wits at once to work. By agreement an apparently settled coldnes" and distance was observed by the lovers towards each other, and the father saw (as he believed) with satisfaction that his previous suspicion and fears had all been premature. Theu by agreement also be tween them, Joe absented himself from the house at evening, nd night after night for full three months longer, did Joe disappear as soon as bis work was finished, to return home only at late bed time. This was some thing unusual, and old Dauforth determined to know the cause of it. Joe frankly confessed that be was in love wish a mans daughter, who resided less than three miles distant, but after a faithful at tachment between them for several months the old man had utterly refused to enter" taia his application for the youDg girl's hand. This was capital. Just what tho old man desired. This satisfied him that he had made a mistake in regard to his own child; and he would have Joe get married, and to stop all farther trouble or suspicion at once. So he said: 'Well, Joe, is 6he a buxom lass?' 'Yes—yes,' said Joe. 'l'm not much of a judge myself.' •And you like her?" 'Yes, sir, yes.' 'Then marry her?' said Danfoith. ♦But I can't, tho father objects." 'Pooh! what should you care? Bun away with her?' 'Elope?' •Yes, certainly: off with you at cnce. If the gal will join, all right. Marry her, bring her here; you shall have the little cottage at the foot of the lane. I'll furnish it for you; your wages shall be raised, and the old man may like it or not.' ♦But—' •But no bts Joe. Do as I bid you, go about it at once, and—' 'You will stand by me?' ♦Yes, to the last. I know you, Joe; you're a good workman, and will make au> body a good Bon or a husband.' 'The old fellow will be so mad though.' •Who cares, I say. Go quickly, but quietly.' 'To morrow night, then,' said Joe. ♦Yes,' said Danforth. •I'll hire Culver's horaes—' 'No you shan't.' •No. 1 ' 'I say no. Take ray horse, the best one, young Morgan, he'll take you off in fine style in the new phseton.' ♦Exactly.' , 'And so soon as you an spliced, come right back here, aud a jolly time we'll have of it at the old house.* 'Her father will kill me.' 'Bah! he's an old fool, whoever he is; he don't know your qualities, Joe, so well as 1 do, don't be afraid: faint heart, you know, never won a fair woman.' 'The old mm will be astouished.' •Nevermind, go on; we'll turn the laugh on bim. I'll take care of you and your wife at any rate.' 'l'll do it,' said Joe. 'You shall,' said Danforth, and they par ted in the best of spirits. An hour after dark, cn the following eveDiDg, Joe made his appearance, decked in a nice new black suit really looking very comely. The old man bustled out to the barn with bim, helping to harness young Morgan to the new phaeton, and leading the spunky animal himself into the road, away went Joe Walker in search of his bride. A few rods distant from the house be (ound her as per previous engagement, and repairing to the neit village, the parson very soon made them one iu holy wedlock.— Joe took bis bride, and soon dashed back to the town of P , and halted at old Dauforth's house, who was already.looking for him, and who received him with open arms. 'ls it done?' cried the old man 'Yes !' answered Joe. 'Bring her in, bring her in,' continued the old fellow, in a high glee,'never tnind compliments, no matter about the dark en try; here Joe. to the light in the best par lor; we'll have a good time now, sure!' and the anxious farmer rushed away for lights returning almost immediately. 'Here's the certificate, sir,' said Joe. 'Yes, yes—' 'Ana this is my wife,' he added as he passed up his beautiful bride—the bewitch ing and loving Minnie Danforth? 4 \V hat, roared the old file; what did you say, Joe—you villain, you scamp, you au dacious cheat, you, you—' 'lt is the truth, sir, wo are lawfully mar ried. You advised me to this course,you assisted nie in this course, you planned th? whole affair, you leut me your horse, you thought me last night worthy of any man's child, you encouraged rue, you promised to stand by me, you offered me the cottage at the foot of the hill, you—' 'I didn't. I deny it. You can't prove it; you're a—a—a —' 'Calmly now, sir,' said Joe. And the entreaties of the happy couple were at once united to quell the old man's ire, and to persuade him to acknowledge the union. The father relented at last. It was a job of his own manufacture, and he saw how useles sit would bo fiuallv to attempt spoil it. He gave in reluctantly, and the fair Minnie Danforth was overjoyed to be duly acknowledged ai Mrs. Joe Walker. The marriage proved a joyful one, and the original assertion of Danforth proved truthful in every respect. The cunning lover was a good son and a faithful husband and lived many a year to enjoy the happi ness which followed upon his runaway match, while the old man never cared to hear much about the details of the elope ment, tor he saw how completely ho had overshot the mark. Persoual Appearance of John Hancock. One who seen Hancock iu June, 1782, relates that he had the appearance of ad vanced age. He bad been repeatedly and severely afflicted with gout, probably owing iu part to the custom of drinking punch— a common practice in high circles in those days. As recollected at this time, Han cock was nearly six feet in high and of thin person, stooping a little, and apparently enfeebled by deseace. Ilis manners were very gracious, of the old style, a dignified compliance. His face had been very hand some. Dress was adapted quite as much to the ornamental as useful. Geutle wore wigs when abroad, and commonly caps when at hope. At this time about noon, Han cock was dressed in a red velvet cap: with in which was one of fine linen. The latter The latter was turned up over the lower edge of the velvet one, twe or three inches, lie wore a blue deinask gown, lined with silk, a white satin embroidered waistcoat, black satin small cloths, white stockings and red morocco slippers. It was a general practise in genteel fam ilies to have a tankard of punch made in the moruing and placed in a cooler when the season required it. At this visit, Han cock took from the cooler standing on the hearth a full tankard, and. drank first him self and then offered it to those present— His equipage was splendid, and such as is not customary at this day. His apparel was sumptuously embroidered with £old, silver, laoe and o?her decorations fasbiona- VOL. -29, AO 19 ble among men of furtnne in that peiiod— and lie rode, especially on public occasions, with six beautiful bay horses, attended in livery. He wore a scarlet coat, with ruf fles on his sleeves, which soon became the prevailing fashion; and it Is related Dr. Nathan Iseques, the famous predestrian of West Newbury, that be passed all the way from that place to Boston in cne dav to procure cloth for a coat like that of John Hancock, and retarood with it under h arm, on foot. Dr. Lydia Sayer on Heary Petti coats. Dr. Lydia Sayer is a fine, dashing girl, tresb as her own Orange county butter, and as beautiful as the scenery of her own Orange county home. But fresh and fair though she is not a speaking ornameut to a lecture-room. With a less masculine am bition, she might adorn the kitchen, the parlor, and the bedside, and enhance the beauty and respectability of an audience of which she formed a part; but with aspira. tions which are uct couielv in woman, and a boldness incompatible with refined sensi bility, she neutralizes the good she is formed for doing, by aiming at what she is not fit ted to accomplish. A costrucfion of senten ces iu accordance with the rules laid down by Lindly Murray, and correct pronuncia tion. absolutely necessary to the success of any lecturer who presumes to improve and refine the tastes of the public. Lydia, with all her beauty is lamentably deficient in both. Her amhitioD o'crleaps Lmdlev, and uer affectionate nature centres with all jt s power upon the last syllable of all the words sbo uses. There are many words worthy of esteem,but to place one's affections upon a monosyllable, and that alwavs the last, i 3 unworthy of a teinale. Lydia might easily find an object more deserving of her highest regard. When speaking she seems possessed of the idea that, however much sentences may vary in length, they mast all be finished within the same number of seconds. Her endeavor to carry this strange notion into effect offends *he eat of her audience, and forces her to a flippancy which attains its object en washing days cnlv. Her objec tions to "fashion morally sod pbysiolically considered," are precisely tLe same as have obtained ij all ages, and as are prcaohed by toe devotees of fashion to-day. Kvery bo-iy knows and bekves that heuvy-quiited petti coats, fastened as they usualiv re, and corsets laced as is the custom, are injurious If Lydia would have a change for the bet ter, let her no longer waste her time in the preparation of maudlin lecturers, but retire from the forum to the back parlor, and there, with scissors and needle, fashion gar ments which shall bo becoming, convenient and healthful. It sne succeeds in making such garments attractive, sue will have accomplished more that is good than all the strong minded wo man who exhibit themselves where men on ly should stand, will ever attain.—.V*. V. Ttmts. A GOOD EXCUSE. —A Juror's name wae called by the clerk. The man advanced to the judge's desk and said: '•Judge, I should like to be excused." "It is impossible," said the judge dec'" dediy. "But, judge, if yon knew my reasons." "Well sir, what are they?" "W by, tho fact is"—and the man paus ed. "Well sir, prooeed," oontinued the judge. " Well judge, if I must say it, I've got the itch!" The judge, who was a Tery sober man,, solemnly and impressively exclaimed "Clerk saatch that man out!" "I say, boy, whose horse is that your're riding?" "Why, it's daddy's." "Who is your daddy?" "Don't yer know? Why, Uncle Peter Jones." "So you're ttie son of your uncle?" "Why, yes, calculate I am. Yon see dad got to be a widower, and married moth er's sister, and now he's my uncle?" The scarcity ot'barrels is accounted for by the fact that the ladies have monopolized the hoops. •Have you ever broken a horse'' inquired a horse jockey. -No, not exactly,' replied Simmons, but I have broken three or four wagons.' tt7""What'a the reason you've the wrong side of your stocking turned out?" aaid Ja to Pat the other day. "The raison—tho raiaon is It?** eaidPat it's bekase there's a bole t'othor aide uv it."