BY DAVID OVER. Irl 11 f |5 011 r i]. ruaiiT BT CES2T W. LGSOrEIAOW. —o The d*T ' 3 Lose dirtant foot steps echo, Through the corridors ot Time. For. like strains of martial music. Their mighty thoughts suggest L le's endless toil and endeavor; And to uig'at I long tor rest. Read from some humbler poet, •Those songs gush from bis heart As showers from the clouds of surarue*, Or tears :roin the eyelids start. Who, through lor.g days f l*!>er, Ari-i i. gibs devoid cl ease. Still heard in bis sou) the muaio Of wocdertul nieloiies. Such songs hare power to quiet 1 tie restless pulse of e .re, And couie luic the benediction T iat follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volu.no The poem <>■ toe choice, And lei. i to the rhyme ot the poet, lie beauty oi thy voice. And the night shall he filled with maaic, And the care* that iulest the day Shall told their tents like the Arabs, And us silently steal away. KIDIVG iTi M.F.IGIS. —o Gliding down the hi'.lsid^ O'er the frosty imow— Sliding through the valleys, Jingliug as we go— Happy voices joining In a noisy lay; Bless me. how delightful, Kioiag in a ale>gii! Girl whom you invited is certain she shall f.eaz® Nestles closer to yoa, Gives your arm a bqueeze Kbits at okl school tritbdships. As any maiden may— Says it's veiy pleasant Hiding in a sleight Driver gets excited, Ttni.fcs he's very smart— Swaps the whip a little, Gives the nags a start. Girls and gallants mixing In as awkward way; hi ess me. bow delightful, Riding in a k. igb! Bound the corner rushiug At a speed to rash. Suddenly upsetting With bun id crash, Jn a snow bod tumbled All the lovers lay— 11a, hai bow delightful. Hiding is a sleigh! Beavers sadly battered, Bonnets all awry— Some the girls a laughing. Others want to cry; Careless drivers swearing. Says the deuce's to pay; Ne'er "dunip'A" load before Riding in a sleigh! Matters once more righted, Jingling on we go, Through tbs wo ods and meadows. O'er the frosty snow, Jingling, laughing, kiasing, All the merry way; Bless me, isn't pleasant, Riding in a aleighl GIBLS ASD BEARDS.—TWO young mus es, discussing the qualities of sonic young gentlemen, were overheard thus. No. I —'Well, I like Charley, but he's rather girlish; be hasn't got the least bit of a ird.* No. 2—'l say Chsrley hit got a beard, but he abates it off ' No. I—No, he haiu't either, any more than 1 have,' No. 2—l say he has too, and I know it, for it ttidu my cheek.' A Weekly Paper, Devoted to Literature, Politics, the Arts, Sciences, Agriculture, Ac., &c—Terms: Two Dollars per annum. For the Inquirer and Chronicle. THE RAMBLES. The intellect of the win is tike glass ; it admils the Light of Heaven., and reflects it —HARK. To the reflective mind the seasons in their j continual change always bring to view the | wisdom of that glorious Bieng, who has so wisely adapted the whole order of nature to the physical, mental and moral wants of man* Winter comes on with rough and solemn aspect, but soon we are disposed l welcome tbe music of bis mighty voice, and often, indeed, seem to forget ourselves in admiration* while the cold blasts arc sweeping in wild confusion around us. Such was the day on which 1 started out to notice the ways of the world, and thus afford on self some recreation. With no little degree of enthusiasm, I felt that much would depend upon a proper use of iny time, in order that I might return with a miud well prepared for energetic action. Without, however, troubling tbe reader with a long account of the various inci dents that occurred, 1 prefer confining my self t n the present occasion to a few thoughts which were suggested to my mind while on a visit to the Quaker City—Phil adelphia. It is true, as Dr. Franklin once remark- : > ®d, that there are a great many things in such a city that a wise man does not want; yet it i equally true that there are many reasons why a wise maa loves to walk lei- : surely along the crowded streets of a large city. lam none of those, however, who 1 are forever longing to shine in the gay at j tire with which the majority ot those who wander along tbe prominent streets seem to take so much delight—no, "God made the country, man made the town." Cain built the first city, and generally it would seem as if Cain's descendants were busily engaged in building cities: or rather it would seem as it posterity at least some* ■ what akin to him were making up a large | proportion of tbe inhabitants. In such large cities where multitudes of human be ings are continually going to and fro, tbe observing mind enjoys jeeuliar privileges in the study of human character. There he sees the empty headed, and still more empty minded fop. Ilis well oiled locks | indicate how much more highly he vaiues ! the peculiar "curl" than the proper digni ty of a nobie minded young man. Next be notice- the fiirt—for, by the way, they, like the Scribes and Pharisees, may be seen at any time, about the corners of the streets: aud in ali other prominent places. Even now, while sitting quietly in my sanctum , imagination seems to behold one of the fair ones ID the distance. ' .Vark bcrwhen she first appears. Still distant, slowly moving with her train; Her robe and tresses floating on the wind, Like some light figure in a morning cloud. Mark's! tbou that smile rise from her part ing lips ? Soft swelled her glowing ebeek; her eyes smiled too." But I turn from such a seme of non sense and vanity, whieb must needs excite pity aid regret. Woman, thou wert nev er created to stoop so low; thy warm, beat ing heart should enable thee to exclaim, in sweetest accents, "Nearer, dearer binds of tor* Draw usy soul in union To my Father's house above. Thither all my hopes ascend, There may all my labors end." Then shall thy noble soul, beaming forth celestial light, illumine this dark world > and then will thy en.iles, sweet as the smiles of angel messengers, cheer the do mestic circle; then shall the happy day couie when the wilderness shall biossom like the rose, and the solitary places re echo with the song of universal happiness. But I find I have dwelt too long ou meoe ly incidental affairs. It was my intention to confine myself more directly to a notice of several paintings on exhibition in the , ,£ fc adtuitf of Fine First of all 1 i will request the reader to contemplate DEATH ON THE PALE HOBSE. This world-renowned painting was execu ted by Benjamin West, and has for its ob ject the representation of the vision of St. John, Rev. VI., Ito 12. On first behold ing this great effort of baman genius, tbe mind is naturally overpowered, and for BOOM time can scarcely realise the presence of such a terrible seene. Indeed to a mind somewhat disposed to melaucholy, this overwhelming exhibition of destruc tion, would doubtless have an alarming ef fect. Imagine for a moment tbe dreadful scene. Tbe heavens on fire; the earth melting with fervent heat; the sun blotted from the heavens; the moon turned to blood; the stars wandering in deep dark ness; the millions of human beutgs on the earth all panic stricken; then see far away i the glorious light of heaven beginning to scatter far and wide, the resplendent beams that pour forth from the Everlasting Throne. See "Death on the Paic Hnrse" coming! The King of Terrors is represented with the physiognomy of the dead, but at tiie same t;me may be seen tot inextinguishable rage that fires with hellish strength every muscle: and throws a kind of superhuman char in over the terrible being. On his head is placed a crown, and around hi' body flows the spacious robe. In his right hand he holds ao sceptre, but with an outstretch ed arm grasps the Serpent that first brought death into the world and all our woe, and with merciless cruelty be sends forth his fiery darts in every direction. "Ilis Lorre rushes forward with the universal wildoess of a tempestuous element, breathing livid pestilence, and rearing and trampling wiih the vehemence of an unbridled fury." Be hind him is seen an insidious demon bear ing the torch of Discord, with a monstrous progeny of the reptile World, "All prodigious things, Abo ninable, unutterable, and worse Than fables yet have feigned, or fear con ceived, Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dir These are the "Ministers of Heli," who had "power given to them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with the awoid, and with hunger, aud with disease-, and with the beasts of the earth." Accordingly man and all living things are thrown into the wildest scene of confusion, and on all sides there is nothing hut ruin and destruc- I ticn. "The powers of Hell follow on tbc clods behind;" or rather, the powers of Hell eome bursting through the deep dark ness and clouds that seem to envelop tbc whole scene. "An image of the devouring mortality is seen in the sudden death of a young mother and her infant son. She is supported by her husband, who at the same time rtatends his arms, as it were, to stop the galloping of the Pale Horse.— Her daughter, a beautiful child, in a pa thetic attitude, endeavors to succor her.— The destruction by wild beasts is repre sented by a lion and a lioness rushing up on a tumultuous group of uien on horse back and on foot, who are endeavoring, in turn, to destroy their assailants. A wild bull is seen attacking the crowd behind, and tossing a youth in the air. The furi ous animal is himself assailed by the dogs. In the clouds an eagle and heron are en- I gaged in mortal combat; and on the fore ground a dove lamenting over its dead mate j Near the bull, but somewhat farther in the picture, a young man is struck dead by lightning, on the supposed day of hi- inar : riage; bis brother is supporting his lifeless body, and a young female, hi- intended bride, gazing wildly upon him. A number of figures are seen in confusion, terror, aud j astonishment at this awiul visitation. Over their heads the firmament is rent; th e clouds arc broken; the thunder and light nings let loose, and the heavens 'rolled to gether as a scroll.' The destruction by j Famine is represented by a sallow, eiaatia ! fed man, with a wtinkled visage aDd hollow [ eyes, on his knees, endeavoring to dig up j some wild roots with his loug nails, to ap j pease the ravenous cravings of nature. — His empty cup lies beside liim. Close to this the destruction by Pestilence is figured by a womau with an expression of patD and malady in ber wan countenance aud crouching attitude. The destruction by War is represented by a figure iu heimei ' and armor, mounted on a red horse, with ' his sword raised in the act of charging, and : i and the c'oud3 of battle raising before hun." I have now briefly noticed one leading 1 character in this painting. Io my next pa per, I will ask my readers to contemplate the second. SIGMA. | Frederick ISPTITCTE, 1 January, 1857. ) Hoop skirts, said old Roger to Miss Se rapbima, as she was dressing to go out, are indicative of the extent of a lady's ac quaintance. She playfully turned and demanded an explanation, calling him naughty man, for meddling with that which didn't belong to him. How does it indicate her acquaint ance, sir? Why, said he, pulling down his white waistcoat and looking pleasantly at her voluminous habit, it indicates that she bus a large circle about her. Seraphima went out with a smile, like the month of June. A distinguished writer says —'There is but one parage in the Bible where the girls are commanded to kiss the men, and that is the golden rule, "Whatsoever yc would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them." BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY. FEBRUARY 6, 1857. [From the JY Y. tribune. A Letter frcm Bayard Taylor. AN HOUR WITH HUMBOLDT. BERLIN, NOV. "25, 1856. 1 came to Berlin, not to visit it* muse ums and galleries, its magnificent street of lindens, its operas and theaters, nor to mingle in the gay life of its streets and saloons, but for the sake of seeing an J speaking with the world's greatest living man— Alexander von Iluuibo'dt. At present, with bis great age and bis universal renown, regarded as a throned monarch in the world of science, his friends hive been obliged, per-ftjree, to protect him from the exhaustive homage of his thousands of subjects, and, for bis own sake, make difficult the ways of ac cess to hint. The friend and familiar com panion of the King, he may be saW, equal ly, to hoid his own court, with the privil ege, however, of at any time breaking through the formalities which only self defense Ins rendered necessary. Some of my works, I knew, had found their way into his bands : 1 wn9 at the begin ning of a journey which w>ld probably lead me through regions wL.ch his fee: had traversed and bis genius illustrated, and it was not merely a natural' cariosity which attracted ?ne toward hini. I loUow ed the advice of some German fiieuds, aud made use of no mediatory inSienoe, but simply a note to him, sta ting uy name and object, and asking for au interview. Three days afterward 1 received through the city post a repiy in bis own hand, sta-, ting that, although he was suffering from a cold which had (allowed his removal from Potsdam to the capital, tie would willingly receive rue, and appointed I o'- clock to-day for the visit. 1 wtrs punc tual to the minute, and reached his resi denes in the Oramestiurgey-straps- as the clock struck. While in Berlin, the lives with bis servant,"Seifcrt, whose uiae on - Iv 1 found on the door. It was a plain two story bouse, with a dull pisk fron l and inhabited, like most of the lwuses in German cities, by two or three families.— , The bell-wire over Seifert'a name came i from the second story. I pulled: the | heavy porie coc/iert opened itself, and I ' mouuted the steps until I reached a second bell-pull, over a plate inscribed, "Alexan : der von HaiubobH." A stout, square faced man of about fifty, whom 1 at once recognized as Seifert, opened the door for uie. "A re yon Hcrr Taylor?" he asked: J.and added, on re ceiving my reply: "Ills Excellency is icady to receive you." lie ushered mc into a room filled with stuffed birds and othcT subjects of natural history; then in to a largo library, which apparently con tained the gifts of authors, artists, and meu °f science. 1 walked between two long tables heaped with sumptuous folios, to the further doer, which opened into the study. Those who have seen the admir able colored lithograph of Ilildebrand's pietare, know precisely how the room looks. There was the pUin table, the writing-doak covered with letters and : manuscripts, the little green sofa, and the same maps aud pictures on the drab-col j ored walls. The picture has been so long ; hanging in my own room at home, that I at once recognized each particular ob j ject. Seifert went to an inner door, announ ced my uarne, and Humboldt immediately appeared. He came up to me with a heartiness and cordiality which made me feel that I was iu the presence of a friend, gave tue his hand, aud inquired whether we should converse in English or Ger man. "Your letter," said he, "was that of a German, and you must certainly speak the language familiarly, but I am also in the constant habit of usiug Eng lish." He insisted upon my takiug one end of the green sofa, observing that he rr> ly sat upon it himself, then drew up a plain cane-bottomed chair aud seated hint j self beside it, askiug me to speak a little : louder than usual, as his hearing was not as acute as formerly, j As 1 looked at the majestic old man, the I line of Tennyson, describing Wellington, came into my mind : "Oh,good gtey head, ; which all men know." The first imptes siou made by Humboldt's face is that of a I broad and genial humanity. His massive | brow, heavy with the gathering wisdom of i nearly a century, bend* forward and over- I hangs his breast, like a ripe ear of corn, ! bat as yon look below it, a pair of clear bite eyes, almost as bright aud steady as a i child's, meet your own. In those eyes ; you read that trust in man, that immortal | youth of the heart, which makes the ! I snows of eighty-seven Winters lie so j lightly upon his bead. You trust him utterly at the first fiance, and you feel that 1 he will trust you, if you ate worthy of it.— I had approached hiin with a natural feel ing of reverence, but in five iuinut-s I found that I loved biin, and could talk with hiin as freely as with a friend of uuy own age. Ilis nose, tnoutb and chin have the heavy Teutonic character, whose gen uine type always expresses an honest sim plicity and directness. 1 was most surprised by the youthful character of his face. 1 knew that he had been frequently indisposed daring the present year, and had been told that he was beginning to show the marks cf hie extreme age; but I should not have sus jiccted him of bciug over seventy-five. — ilis wrinkles are few and small, and his skin has a smoothness and delicacy rare ly seen in old men. ilis hail, although enow-white, is still abundant, his step slow but firm, and his manner active al most to restlessness. He sleeps but four hours out of the twenty-fosr, reads and replies to his daily raia of letters, and suf fers uosingle occurrence of the least inter est in any part of the world to escape his ; attention. I could not perceive that Lb memory, the first mental faculty to show decay, is at ali impaired. He talks rap idly, with the greatest apparent ease, never hesitating for a word, whether in English or German, and, in fact, s-<>uicd to be j unconscious which language he was using, ;as he changed five or six times in the course of conversation. He did not J remain iD his chair more than ten minutes < at a time, frequently getting up and waik ling about the room, now and then pointing to a pi.tore or opening a bock to illustrate ! some remark. He began by referring to my Winter journey into Lipland "Why do you choose the Winter?" he asked: "Your ex perience will be very interesting, it is true but will you not under from the severe coil?" "That remains to be seen,"' I answered "i have tried all climates cx- ! cent the Arctic, without the least injury. Toe la-t two years of my (ravels were | spent in tropica! countries, and new 1 wish to have the strongest possible con trast." "That is quite natural,"' he re marked, "and 1 can understand how your object in travel must lead you to seek : such contrasts, but you must pos.-ess a i remarkable healthy organization." "You doubtless know, from your own experi ; enc," 1 said, "that nothing preserves a man's vitality like travel." "Very true,' he answered, "if it docs not kill at the ; outset. For icy part, 1 keep my health every where, lilcp yourself. During five years ir. South America and the West Indies, I pa<-fcd through the midst, of black vouiit and yellow fever untouched. 1 spoke of uiy projected visit to Russia, ! and my desire to traverse the Russian Tar- ! tar provinces of Central Asia. The Kir- j ghiz steppes, he said, were very monoto nous: fifty miles gave you the picture of a thousand, but the people were exceedingly interesting. If I desired to go there, I would have no difficulty in passing through them to the Chinese frontier; but the south- ' em provinces of Siberia, he (bought, would | best repay me. The scenery among the ; Altai Mountains was very grand. From I bis window in one of the Siberian towns, he had counted eleven peaks covered with eternal snow. The Kirghizes, he added, were among the few races whose habits had remained unchanged for tbousauds of years and they had the remarkable peculiarity of : combining a monastic with a monadic life. They were partly Buddhist aud partly Mus- I sleman, and their moukish sects followed ' the different clans in tho spoke of our au thors, and inquired particularly after Washington Irving, whom he had once een. I told bitu I had the fortune to know Mr. Irving, and had seen him not long before leaving New York. "lie must be at least fifty yerrs old," said Humboldt. "He is seventy," I answered, but as young as ever." "Ah!" said he, "I have lived so long that I have almost lost the con sciousness of time. I belong to the age of Jefferson and Gallatin, and I heard cf Washington's death while travelling in South America." Humboldt's recollections of the Altai Mountains naturally led bitu to speak of the Andes. "You have travelled in Mexi co,' said he, "do you not agree with me in the opinion that the finest mountains in the world arc those single cones of peipetual snow rising out of the splendid vegetation of the tiopics? The Himalaya', although loftier, can scarcely make an equal impres sion; they lie further to the north, without the belt of tropical growths, and their sides are dreary and sterile in comparison.— You remember Orizaba," continued be, here is an engraving from a rough sketch of mine. 1 hope you will find it correct." He rose aud took down the illustrated fo- lio which accompanied the last edition of his Minor Writings, turned over the leave' and recalled, at each plate, some reminis ceDce of his American travel. "I stiil think," he remarked as he closed the book, "Uriti Uhiuiborazo Ls the grandest mountain in the worlp." I have repeated lut the smallest portion i of hi* cr.ovcrpaiion, which in *n | uninterrupted stream of the richest koow_ J ledge. On recalling it to my mind, after j leaving. I was surprised to find how great a 1 number of subjects be had touched upon, | and how uiuch he hid.'aid. or seemed to have said—for he has the rare faculty of j placing a subject in the clearest and most vivid light by a few luminous words—con cerning each. He thought, as he talked, withott effort I should compare his brain to the Fountain of Vaucluse—a stiil, deep ■ and tranquil pool, without a ripple on it? j 4 urfaoe, but creating a river by its over flow. He asked me many questions, but did tot always wait for an answer, the quest km itself suggesting some reminiscence |or soue thought which he had evident j pieasuie in expressing. 1 sat or walked. followu™ hi* moventrmts, ail eager listener, and spiking in alternate English and Ger man, antil the time which he had granted to uie ld expired. Seifert at length reap peared and said to hiia, in a manner at once retpcctful'and familiar, "It is time," and I tqk tuy leave. "You have traveled much, and seen many riins," saiu Humboldt, as be gave me bis hnd again: 'now you have seen one more.' Not a ruin,' I could not help re plying, but a pyramid.' For I pressed the hand with had touched tbosa of Frederick the Grat, of Foster, the companion of Capt. CVok, of Klnpstock and Dchiller, of Pitt, Naioleon, Josephine, the Marcbals of the Empre, Jefferson, Hamilton, R ieiand' Herder, Goethe, Cuvier La Place. Gay, Lussac, leethoven, Walter s>cott—ia short of cveir great man 1111001 Europe has pro duced tr three quirters of a century. I looked nto the eyes which had not on'y seeu tin living history of the world pass by, scee after scene, till the actor retired one by ue, to return no more, but had be held th cataract of Atures and the forests | of the issiqniare, Chimboraxo, the Ama - ! j zou an Popocatepetl, the Altaian Alps ot! ; Siberia the Tartar steppes and the Caspi an Sea. Such a splendid circle of experi ence wd befits a life of such generous de j : votion > science. I have never seen sc , 1 sablimnu example of old age—crowned with itseriahable success, full of the rip est wiiom, obeered and sweetened by the noblest attributes of the heart. A ruin, indeed! No; a human temple, perfect as the PajbeEon. As )was passing out through the cabi net of {atural llistory, Seifert's voice ar restedie. "I beg your pardon, Sir," said Le, '#t do you know what this is?' point ing tothc antlers of a llocky Mountain elk. Of course 1 do," said I,' 1 have I helpei to eat many of them." He then j poind out the other specimens. aDd took me i the library to show ma some draw ings by his son-in-law, Mublhaosaa, who j had acompanied Lieut- Whipple in his ex ( pidion to the Rocky Mountains. He al i SQ Awed me a very elaborate specimen of VOL. 30, NO. 6. bead-work, in a gilt frame. 'This' he said, •is the work of a Kirghiz princess, who pre sented it to His Excellency when we were on onr journey to Siberia.' 'You accom panied His excellency then?' I asked. Yes f aid be: 'we were there in '2D.' Seifert is justly proud of having shared for thirty or forty years the fortunes of his mister.— was a ring, and a servant came in to annonnce a visitor. 'Ah, the Prince Ypsil aoti,' said he: 'don't let him ID, doß't let a single soul in: I must go and dress His Ex cel,ency. Sir, excuse we —yours, most re i-pecrfuHy,' and therewith he bowed himself out. As 1 descended to the street, I pass ed Prince Ypsilanti on the stairs. MRS. KELLY IS ASKED FOR HER NAME. Among the arrests made recently, wis that of Mr. Kelly, fur intoxication. Mrs. Kelly ie a talkative little body, and ehcck | ingly given to one idea. We give her ex i awiuatioa: 'What is your name?' 'As dacint a woman as ever the sun shond upon. I've lived in Albany twelve years coming next michelmas—l know it by the token, that the Sunday before, we waked O'Ncil.' 'What is your came?' 'Me character is as good as any woman's in the State. If you think Tin lying call on Mrs. Manning—a divil a nicer woman than Mrs. Manning iver flirted a Louse cloth or peeled a pratie.' 'Stop that rigmarole and givtj me your name.' 'Stop what! my rigmarole? And what's my rigmaroles done that you should throw slurs on a dacint woman? Would ye take advantage of iuy wakenesj, vc gay heeded ould coon, ye?' 4 'Will you give me your name?' •Me what?' i * 'Your name.' # 'And perhaps yon. think IVe not got ono. Bed ad, I've as good as iver came till Ameriky, and I'm not ashamed of it ' 'M ill yott giva It to ice?' 'l'd sec you to the divii first! I'd not hern "a a the Keiiey's to that degree as to tell yees I'm one of 'em.' 'Then yoor nAme is Kellv?' 'Ana who slathered that ou:? Show mo the blackguard and I'll dust bis coat with a poker.' 'Never mind ail that. Mrs. Kelly, you were found intoxicated.' 'And who pnid for the rum? Not yon, yon ould viiyac.' 'lt matters not who paid for the rum.— You drauk it, and then committed a breach | of the peace, for doing which I sentence I you to jail for ten days.' I 'And dare you seud a Kelly to jail for ! lakiog a little wake gin to get the wind | from her heart?' t 'Certainly, a Kelly or any other person, jif they ticrhne the laws. Clinton take her -C J Qu. Clinton undertook to do so, tut got so entangled with Mrs. Keilt'a lege, that the peir fell down stairs, breaking officer Clin ton's watch, knee-pan and suspenders. Mrs. Kellv is now in in jail, tut threatens to ' take it out cf the 'ould vilyan's' skin, the first time she meets him with a mop Land die. A SPOONFUL OF "PUNCH."—HOME TRUTHS, BT A HOME-SPEAKING PHILOSO'- PIIER. — As sure as there happens to be cold uieat or a poor shabby dinner of scraps and make-ups, so sure is tbe husband to take some one home to dinner with him. No child ever makes a noise; and as for babies,jit is a well-known fart that every blessed baby that ever was born was the "quietest little thing in the world.* It is rare indeed that you can get two mother-in-laws to sgree upon any demefthr matter, more epeeial!y upon any treat ment conuceted with the rearing of chil dren. One thing is indisputable: —servants take care generally to answer the mother in-law's bell tbe first time it is rung- The kitchen chimney only catches fire on festive occasions, and no cook ever thinks of having a ncrvons fit, such *3 necessitate# her being carried up stairs in a state of in sensibilitv, but on some grand solemnity, when you have distinguished eomfiuv to dinner. As the mothers grow older so tbe daught ers grow younger; for if the motLe-r is only thirty-two it would be absurd and contra dictory to give cut that her grown up daughters were more than fifteen or eigh teen at the utmost. From the want of this simple maoagc mcut, ridiculous ca*es have been known, ia which tho mother, by deducting ouo, or more, off her age every year and neglecting I to make the same deduction with her youth ful beauties, has at length arrived to be of 1 tbe same aga as her dAughtera. i# , :