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Sibyl, who trembled, as it seemed, too much to princely style, and it is more than suspected that he articulate.

"More water," said some one in a low voice; "she is going to faint again." Water was handed to her, and the clergyman repeated

"Wilt thou take this man to be thy wedded husband?"

Sibyl said nothing, but gasped audibly; her father looked more troubled, and Sir Lubin opened his mouth wider and wider.

The question was repeated, but still Sibyl spoke not.

It was pronounced a third time,-Sibyl shook more violently, and uttered an hysteric scream. "Oh, merciful heaven!" she exclaimed, "it is impossible!-I cannot!-I cannot!"

Her astonished lover sprang forward, and received her fainting form in his arms. A glance at each other's countenance was sufficient to explain all the sufferings,-to dissipate all the resentment. Concealment was now out of the question, and their words broke forth at the same instant.

"Oh, faithless! how could you drive me to this dreadful extremity?"

"Sweet Sibyl, forgive-forgive me! I will atone for it by such penitence, such devotion, as the world never saw."

"By Jove!" exclaimed the bridegroom, "but I do not like this!"

"By my word!" added the lady Jemima, "but here is a new lover!"

"By mine honour," responded the lady Bridget, "but he is an old one!"

"By my word and honour too," continued the lady something else, "I suspected it long ago!"

"And by my gray beard," concluded the old lord, "I wish I had done so too!-Look you, Sir Lubin, Sibyl is my only child, and must be made happy her own way. I really thought she had been pining and dying for you, but since it appears I was mistaken, why e'en let us make the best of it. You can be brideman still, though you cannot be bridegroom: and who knows but in our revels to-night you may find a lady less liable to change her mind?"

Sir Lubin did not understand this mode of proceeding, and would have came to high words but for the peculiar expression of Childe Wilful's eye, which kept them bubbling in his throat.He could by no means decide upon what to say. He gave two or three pretty considerable hems, but he cleared the road in vain, for nothing was coming; and so, at last, he made up his mind to treat the matter with silent contempt. He bowed to the company with a haughty dive, kicked his long sword, as he turned, between his legs, and strode, or rather rode, out of the church as fast as his dignity would permit. The crowd on the outside, not being aware of what had passed within, and taking it for granted that it was all right that the bridegroom, on such occasions, should go home alone, wished him joy very heartily and clamorously, and the six horses went off at a long trot, which was quite grand.

Sibyl and her cavalier looked breathlessly for what was to come next.

"The wedding feast must not be lost," said the old lord; "will nobody be married?"

Sibyl was again placed at the altar, and in the room of Sir Lubin, was handed the Chevalier Wilful.

"Wilt thou take this man for thy wedded husband?" demanded the priest.

Sibyl blushed, and still trembled, but her faintings did not return; and if her voice was low when she spoke the words "I will," it was distinct and musical as the clearest note of the nightingale.

AN AFRICAN NOBLEMAN.-In the little Bassa country near Liberia, there is a Spanish slave trader, who styles himself Don Magill, Lord of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, and ten thousand dollars. He lives in al

is concerned in piracy. He recently ordered one of his slaves to be bound to a post in a watch-house, and the house to be set on fire. About the same time another was lashed to a cannon, which was loaded and fired. This is but a single example of the cruelties which are practised in Africa.

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SELECT POETRY.

TO MY COUSIN.

No, Cousin, no, each gentle word
Of thine is unforgotten yet,
That sweet low voice in boyhood heard,
E'en manhood's pride may not forget.

I do not tell thee this to flatter

Thy vain young heart with words of passion,
For love has grown a playful matter,
And sentiment is out of fashion.
The world has given a different tone

To feelings which it could not bridle;
And manhood would disdain to own
The worship of its earliest idol.
Nay, Cousin,-it is idle now

To linger on the past, or cherish
A thought of that unmeaning vow,

Whose very nature was to perish.
For many months we have not met-
And yet they say thy mood is cheerful,
They say thy cheek is rosy yet,

And that thine eye is seldom tearful.
That in the gay and crowded hall

The mazes of thy dance are lightestThy voice the freest of them all,

The glances of thine eye the brightest. That broken-hearted lovers yet

Are thronging round thee by the dozenThat thou art still a gay coquette

And is it so, my gentle cousin!

I hope it is for thou art one
Unfitted for a weary trial,

A thing to perish when the sun

Is shrouded from thy spirit's dial!
Yet what of this? Thou art not sighing
Of slighted love to flower and tree,
And little dost thou think of dying

For such a worthless thing as me.
Yet, Cousin! those were pleasant times,
When we were in the moonlight straying,
With hearts as idle as the rhymes

With which my careless pen is playing.
Twas pleasant to behold thee lift

Thy dark eyes to the blue sky o'er us, With brow as fair as mountain drift,

When polished by the wings of Boreas 'Twas beautiful to hear thee tell

Of bowers in fancy's dreamy vision,
Where faithful hearts might cherish well,
The holy things of Love's Elysium.
Cousin!-these days have vanished now,
And love's mild glance would ill befit
The darker lip and haughtier brow,

With anguish and ambition writ.
I blame thee not that thou hast lent
The blessing of thy love to others,
Although my own was never meant
To be but as a friend or brother's.
But time hath worked a change-perhaps
The better for a heart like mine,
And though it may at times relapse,
And worship at its olden shrine,
Yet, Coz, it were an idle thing

Of other days and loves to speak;
And idle were thy hopes to bring

A tear on manhood's bearded cheek. Farewell, sweet cousin!-thou art young, And wealth, and mirth and love surround thee; And I-a wreck of being-flung

Upon a sea that darkens round me." Forget-forgive the dreamy part Which thou and I have acted o'er; Go-kindle in another heart

The flame that burns in mine no more. When married, for acquaintance sake

Good Cousin, I'm sure thou'lt do itJust send a piece of bridal cake,

And I will write a sonnet to it.

SPIRIT OF THE PESTILENCE. From an unpublished poem in manuscript

BY J. G. WHITTIER. Angel of Death!-the minister

And peopler of the crowded grave! Fearful and fell extinguisher

Of life, th' Eternal gave!-
Thou, at whose presence, earthly power
Stoops with its glories to the dust-
The hoarded wealth, the kingly dower,
And godlike genius in its hour

Of inspiration's spirit-burst!
Dark Rider on the Simoon's wing,
Foul breather of the siroc's breath,
That searchest out each living thing,
To blast it with the touch of death!
How since the flight of years began,

Dread spirit, hast thou gone abroad,
The blight of earth, the scourge of man,
Commissioned by th' eternal God!
How oft at thy companionship
Hath pride uncurled its haughty lip,
And grandeur laid its starry crown
And plume and robe and sceptre down!
How many, at whose onset-shout
A thousand swords had started out,
Whose banner spread had caught the sun
Upon a hundred fields of blood,
Unstooping 'till the strife was done,
Like oaks that breast the coming on

Of tempests in their wrathful mood,
Have, with their mighty ones, departed
The strong in pride the lion-hearted,
Not in the closing ranks of war
With bloody hand and soul unshriven,

When through false mail or visor-bar
The stained and batter'd lance is driven!
But sinking at thy presence where
No war-shout shook the tainted air-
Expiring, not as warriors would,
With dinted sabre, red in blood,
Where flashes on the closing eye
The gleam of banners sweeping by,
And peals upon the dying ear,
In banner cry and trumpet call,
In armour clank and sabre fall,

The music which it loves to hear."
How often o'er Byzantium's walls
Hath swept the shadow of thy wing,
And mirth and glory fled the halls

That owned its deadly visiting!
When sunk alike the gray haired sire,
And boyhood with its heart of flame,
And beauty bending o'er the lyre,

That murmur'd with her lover's name! How oft upon the tropic seas

The presence of thy curse hath been!
A chain upon the blessed breeze-
A fever in the hearts of men!
When hideous corses one by one,
Are peopling ocean's sepulchre,
And in the red eye of the sun,

Raves the delirious mariner;
And slumber, if thy victims gain

That boon, ere weary life depart While every hot and throbbing vein,

Is pouring poison round the heart,
Hath changeful dreams of passing bliss,
And pangs that mortals may not tell-
The holy bowers of blessedness,

The terrors of the nether hell!
The soft, yet thrilling clasp of hand,
Which tells the loving heart so much,
Exchanged to meet the horrid brand,
And blightning of a demon's touch!

MARRIED,

On Monday, 31st May, by the Rev. Mr. Sanford, LORENZO F. FISHER, M. D. of Port Elizabeth, New Jersey, to ANNA MARIA, daughter of RICHARD S. RISLEY, of this city.

On Thursday evening, 3d inst. by the Rt. Rev. Bishop White, JOSEPH WALN RYERSS, to SUSAN, daughter of Robert Waln, Esquire.

DIED,

Suddenly, on Friday morning, Mrs. REBECCA A. CORBIN.

On Thursday morning, without a moment's previous indisposition, LUKE W. MORRIS, of this city. On Friday, Mrs. MARY M. HALL, wife of John Hall, Esq. in the 26th year of her age.

On Friday morning, Mrs. MARY M. BRAND, wife of Christian Brand, in the 45th year of her age.

Checks, Cards, Handbills, and PRINTING of every description executed with neatness, accuracy, and despatch at this office.

No. 25.

annum.

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Published every Thursday by JESPER HARDING, 36 Car- the waves, and the wooded hills, with the bright choly of her voice with the tone of joyousness ter's Alley, and 744 South Second Street. Price, $2 50 per colouring of dreams, and looked abroad upon with which she had so often delighted me in her Agents who procure and forward payment for four sub- the great Ocean heaving perpetually as if it girlhood. Isabel was sinking into the grave.-scribers, shall receive the fifth copy for one year; and so in were the throbbing heart of the Universe, and Passion had not visited her in any of its fiercer

proportion for a larger number.

POETRY.

HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS,
At the consecration of Pulaski's Banner.

BY H. W. LONGFELLOW.

then her thoughts would have utterance, and her forms, but her heart had sunk down from its language came like the low music of a twi-starry height, and, like an Autumn flower, was light wave-the breathing forth of the soul of casting its life-breath upon the winds. I looked poetry, that had floated into her spirit from the upon her, and her eyes were raised to Heaven, sky, the flowers, the waters, and all the thou-and as the moonbeams came down and slumsand objects, among which she was wandering-bered in their depths, she shook aside her long and I yielded to the enchantment, till I could tresses that seemed to have caught their wildThe Standard of Count Pulaski, the noble Pole who have knelt to her in worship as to a gloriousness and darkness from the storm, and a gush of fell in the attack upon Savannah, during the American Revolution, was of Crimson Silk, embroid-vision sent down from a perfect sphere. tears, such as come when the heart yearns for ered by the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem, in Isabel knew little of society. Her home was language, bathed her cheek, and she sobbed long Pennsylvania. where she could gaze at will on the lovely and and loud. At length, her tone and look were the sublime, the first opening of the blossoms changed to their wonted calmness. "I have of Spring beneath the budding tree, and the been thinking," said she, "that I am about to stately steppings of the Almighty amid the die--about to go away from this cold world, thunder crags and roaring forests of the moun- where every thing is chilled in its blossoming. tain. When her thoughts strayed beyond these, It should be so, I was once a happy creatureit was to hold communion, not with the allure- my thoughts were Eden birds, that fluttered and ments of society, but with the shining stars, the sung in the bright air of Heaven, but died bright and spiritual worlds above her. Her when their tender plumage was touched by the thoughts went upward, like incense gushing Earth. A child of dreams, I sought the worldfrom a broken urn. The following hymn, which but I am wearied-wearied now-and I will I found in her favourite arbour after a night of break my poor lute and die. Oh, whence are peculiar stillness and beauty, is a specimen of the bright visions, that have shed their broken her habits of contemplation.

When the dying flame of day
Through the chancel shot its ray,
Far the glimmering tapers shed
Faint light on the cowled head,
And the censer burning swung,
Where before the altar hung
That proud banner which with prayer
Had been consecrated there.

And the nuns' sweet hymn was heard the while,
Sung low in the dim mysterious aisle.

Take thy banner!-may it wave
Proudly o'er the good and brave,
When the battle's distant wail
Breaks the Sabbath of our vale,-
When the clarion's music thrills
To the hearts of these lone hills,-
When the spear in conflict shakes,
And the strong lance shivering breaks.
Take thy banner!-and beneath
The war cloud's encircling wreath,
Guard it-till our homes are free-
Guard it-God will prosper thee!
In the dark and trying hour,
In the breaking forth of power,
In the rush of steeds and men,
His right hand will shield thee then.
Take thy banner! But when night
Closes round the ghastly fight,
If the vanquished warrior bow,
Spare him! by our holy vow,
By our prayers and many tears,
By the mercy that endears,
Spare him-he our love hath shared-
Spare him as thou wouldst be spared!
Take thy banner!--and if e'er
Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,
And the muffled drum should beat
To the tread of mournful feet,
Then this crimson flag shall be
Martial cloak and shroud for thee!
And the warrior took that banner proud,
And it was his martial cloak and shroud.

Those burning stars!-What are they?—I have
dreamed,

That they were blossoms on the tree of life-
Or glory flung back from the mighty wings
Of God's archangels or that yon blue sky,
With all its gorgeous blazonry of stars,
Was but a banner waving on the winds
From the far wall of Heaven! And I have sat
And drank their gush of glory, till I felt
Their flash electric trembling with a deep
And strong vibration down the living wire
Of chainless passion-and my every pulse
Was beating high, as if a spring were there
To lift me up where I might ever roam
'Mid the unfathomed vastness of the sky,
And dwell with those high stars, and see their light
Poured down upon the blessed Earth, like dew
From the bright urns of Naiads!

Beautiful stars!

What are ye?-There is in my heart of hearts
A fount, that heaves beneath you like the deep
Beneath the glories of the midnight moon!
And list!-your music-tones are floating now
Around me like an element-so low,
So wildly beautiful, I almost deem,
That ye are there the living harp of God,
O'er which the incense winds of Eden stray,
And wake such tones of mystic minstrelsy,
As well might wander down to this dim world
To fashion dreams of Heaven!-Peal on-peal
Nature's high anthem!-for my life has caught
A portion of your purity and power,
And seems but as a sweet and holy tone
Isabel was a Poetess-one of those strange Of wild star-music!
sweet beings, that sometimes meet us here, and

SELECT TALES.

MY COUSIN ISABEL.

and momentary gleams upon my spirit, and led ine on to seek in vain their beautiful realities amid all the changes of existence! I have often dreamed, that we must have lived in some other and more glorious state of being, and that the mysterious glimpses that here linger round our souls are the broken remembrances of that better realm. They are brightest in childhood -they picture a rainbow in every tear-and, in our infant thoughtlessness, we imagine them the shadow of the glories that await us in life; but, as we journey onward, they begin to dissolve away, the music, with which they come over us, swells faintly and more faintly upon the blast, till, at length, we awake, and find that all is but a cold and bitter mockery!"

In a few days we laid Isabel in her grave.She slumbers in a retired spot, and it has often been my consolation to go and muse alone over her silent resting-place. During my last visit, I pencilled an unworthy tribute to the memory of the child of song.

Dear Isabel, again I come to linger and to weep
Upon the spot where wild-flowers spring to mark

thy place of sleep,

And, as I kneel beside thy urn, thy spirit from afar
Comes o'er my memory like the tone, the music of

a star.

on-Thou wert the roselight of my morn—the idol of my

Blessed-blessed things!seem like stars wandered away to Earth from Ye are in Heaven, and I on Earth!-my soul, their own beautiful spheres. I knew her not till Even with a whirlwind's rush, may wander off she was fifteen, and she was then all I knew or To your immortal realms, but it must fall, could fancy of loveliness. She was ever a glad Like your own ancient Pleiad, from its height, creature, and the young blossoms that shone To dim its new-caught glories in the dust!like stars on the midnight of her tresses, were Its wilderness of spring-flowers-its bright cloudsThis Earth is very beautiful-I love not more bright and shadowless, than the sweet The majesty of mountains-and the wild brow that arched beneath them. Hers was in- Magnificence of Ocean-for they come, deed a spiritual existence. She loved the glo- Like visions, o'er my heart-but when I look rious things of earth as an Angel loves his own On your unfading loveliness, I feel Paradise, and her soul would often blend with Like a lost infant gazing on its home, them, till the fulness of her ecstacy could find And weep to die, and come where ye repose utterance but with tears. Poetry was, to her, a Upon yon boundless Heaven, like parted souls familiar dream-a vision of floating loveliness-On an Eternity of blessedness!

dreams

And life, with thee, was like the fall of Summer's

quiet streams,

And, if a dark cloud ever came upon my visions fair, Thy love shone o'er the gathering shade, and left the rainbow there.

Thy breezy step is seen no more upon the blue hill's brow,

And Beauty's early light has left my darkened day dreams now

But my lone spirit brightens yet, like that immortal flower,

That sends abroad at eve the rays it drank at morn's first hour.

Dear minstrel-girl-thine was the high, the holy gift of fire,

And beautiful its flashes played around thy glowing lyre,

But it consumed thy heart, for there its centred brightness fell,

And

thou art now a thing of dust, my own loved

Isabel!

and she moved abroad in the light of its inspir- 'Tis wonderful what changes may be wrought ed Divinity. I have strayed by her side on a by a few fleeting years in a sensitive spirit. I summer evening, and listened with her to the was alone with Isabel in her arbour on a calm mysterious pine-lutes of the forest or the deep evening of her twentieth Spring, and, when DOMESTIC HAPPINESS.-Nothing can sweetmurmur of the mountain streams, and gazed she chanted, as usual, a sweet and tender air, I en felicity itself (says Jeremy Taylor,) but love. upon the moonlight as it was tinting the mists, could not but contrast the passionate melan- But, when a man dwells in love, then the

And leave me nothing but the shade,

The cypress, and the knell!—
Adieu-adieu-my task is done→
And now-God bless thee, gentle one.

breasts of his wife are pleasant as the droppings] Mr. BROUGHAM is in all respects a most exon the hill of Hermon, her eyes are fair as the traordinary man. In person, he is tall, lean, light of heaven, she is a fountain sealed, and he raw-boned and ungainly; with features uncomcan quench his thirst and ease his cares and monly hard and coarse, and a complexion sallay his sorrow down upon her lap, and can relow and bloodless. Perhaps I was influenced tire home to his sanctuary and refectory, and In the whole course of our observations there by the known character of the man; but I his gardens of sweetness and chaste refresh- is not so misrepresented and abused a personage thought there was something even in the tones ments. No man can tell, but he that loves his as death. Some have styled him the king of of his voice which conveys to the hearer the children, how many delicious accents make a terrors, when he might with less impropriety idea of bitter and concealed irony. He apman's heart dance in the pretty conversation have been termed the terror of kings; others of those dear pledges; their childishness, their have dreaded him as an evil without end, al-ears to regard the subject of debate only as a field of battle, on which he can manoeuvre his stammering, their little angers, their innocence, the end of all evil. He has been vilified as the though it was in their own power to make him forces, and distress his adversary, by his skill their imperfections, their necessities, are so cause of anguish, consternation and despair; but in sharp shooting and planting ambuscades, and many little emanations of joy and comfort to him these, alas, are things that appertain not unto by the sudden and murderous fire of his maskthat delights in their persons and society; but death, but unto life. How strange a paradox is ed batteries. You sit in perfect admiration of he that loves not his wife and children, feeds a this, we love the distemper, and loathe the re-his talents and address; but at the same time, lioness at home, and broods over a nest of sor-medy, preferring the fiercest buffetings of the you do not give him one particle of your confirows; and blessing itself cannot make him hap-hurricane, to the tranquillity of the harbour. The dence, nor does he seem to desire that you py; so that all the commandments of God en- poet has lent his fictions, the painter his colours, should. Galling sarcasms, and bitter and disjoining man to "love his wife," are nothing the orator his tropes to portray death as the tressing invective, no one better knows how but so many necessities and capacities of joy. grand destroyer, the enemy, the prince of phan- to administer, in tones of affected calmness, She that is loved, is safe; and he that loves is toms and of shades. But can he be called a de- and in that provoking kind of language which joyful. Love is a union of all things excellent; stroyer, who for a perishable state, gives us that all the while keeps barely within the limits of it contains in it proportion and satisfaction, and which is eternal? Can he be styled the enemy, decorum. His action at times is energetic, but rest and confidence; and I wish that this were who is the best friend only of the best, who ungraceful; he saws the air with his long, bony so much proceeded in, that the heathens them- never deserts them at their utmost need, and arms, and now and then rounds off a period by selves could not go beyond us in this virtue, whose friendship proves the most valuable to an emphatic thump on the table. You know and its proper and appendant happiness. Tibe- those who live the longest? Can he be termed when he is about to discharge gall of more than rius Gracchus chose to die for the safety of his the prince of phantoms and shades, who destroys common bitterness, by his leaning forwards, that which is transient and temporary, to esta wife; and yet methinks, to a Christian to do So, should be no hard thing; for many servants will blish that which alone is real and fixed? And weaving the muscles of his face into a sneer, protruding a long slender finger, and peeping die for their masters, and many gentlemen will what are the mournful escutcheons, the sable tro- about from side to side, as if anxious that no die for their friends; but the examples are not phies, and the melancholy insignia with which we so many of those that are ready to do it for surround him, the sepulchral gloom, the mould-drop of it should fall to the ground unnoticed. their nearest relations, and yet some there ering carcass, and the slimy worm! These indeed This is the invariable signal for a hourra from are the idle fears and empty terrors not of the this formidable Cossack: and wo to the luckhave been. Baptiste Fregosa tells of a Neapo-dead, but of the living. The dark domain of less adversary against whom he directs his litan, that gave himself a slave to the Moors, death we dread indeed to enter, but we ought lance. The only man in the house capable of that he might follow his wife; and Dominicus rather to dread the ruggedness of some of the waging battle with this dire foe, is Canning; Catalusius, the prince of Lesbos, kept company roads that lead to it; but if they are rugged, they and even he, on one occasion, evidently showwith his lady when she was a leper; and these are short, and it is only those that are smooth, ed that he was sensible to the stunning force are greater things than to die. that are wearisome and long. But perhaps he of the attack.

CHOICE EXTRACTS.

TO MARY.—BY G. D. PRENTICE.
It is my Lyre's last lay!-and soon
Its echoes will have died,

And thou wilt list its low, wild tones
No more-pale victim-bride!-

I would not, lovely one, that thou

Should'st wrong the heart that deems thee now
Its glory and its pride!-

I would not thou should'st dim with tears,

The vision of its better years.

And yet I love thee. Memory's voice

Comes o'er me, like the tone

Of blossoms, when their dewy leaves
In Autumn's night-winds moan;-
I love thee still-that look of thine

Deep in my spirit has its shrine

All beautiful and lone

And there it glows-that holy form-
The rainbow of life's evening storm.
And, dear one, while I gaze on thee
So pallid, sweet, and frail,
And muse upon thy cheek, I well
Can read its mournful tale;-
I know the dews of memory oft
Are falling beautiful and soft

Upon Love's blossoms pale

I know, that tears thou fain would'st hide
Are on thy lids-sweet victim-bride.

I too have wept. Yon moon's pale light
Has round my pillow strayed
While I was mourning o'er the dreams,
That blossomed but to fade;-
The memory of each holy eve,
To which our burning spirits cleave,

Seems like some star's sweet shade,
That once shone bright and pure on high,
But now has parted from the sky.
Immortal vision of my heart!-
Again, again, farewell!-

I will not listen to the tones,
That in wild music, swell

From the dim past.-Those tones now fade,

summons us too soon from the feast of life, be it This happened on their first encounter, after
so; if the change be not for the better, it is not Mr. Canning's elevation to the treasury bench.
his fault, but our own: or he summons us late; The style of Mr. Canning's oratory is entirely
the call is a reprieve rather than a sentence; for different from that of his rival, as every one
who would wish to sit at the board when he can must have observed who has read and compar-
no longer partake of the banquet, or to live on ed their speeches. He wins your confidence
to pain, when he has long been dead to pleasure? by his apparent sincerity, as much as he de-
Tyrants can sentence their victims to death, but lights you by his playful wit, and the manly
how much more dreadful would be their power, strain of eloquence he pours forth, when
could they sentence them to life? Life is the thoroughly warmed with his subject. In the
jailer of the soul in this filthy prison, and its only early part of his speech, he is evidently embar-
deliverer is death; what we call life, is a journey rassed, which appears in the hesitancy of his
to death, and what we call death, is a passport

to life. True wisdom thanks death for what he enunciation and his nervous gesticulations; but
takes, and still more for what he brings. Let us these are no longer observable, when once he
then like sentinels be ready because we are un- is fairly in possession of the train of thought
certain, and calm because we are prepared. he intends to pursue. It is then that he rivets
There is nothing formidable about death but the you to your seat, and you feel that you are no
consequences of it, and these we ourselves can longer your own master. He uses but little
regulate and control. The shortest life is long action until his spirit begins to kindle, when he
enough if it lead to a better, and the longest life steps to and fro, and raps the aforesaid desk
is too short if it do not.--Lacon.
with heavy ministerial thumps.

THE BRITISH COMMONS.

Mr. HUME is a hard-pated, ponderous looking man, with a coarse unintellectual face, and bull neck; and speaks on in one unvaried, eternal, monotonous strain, whether the house will hear him or not.

The following sketches of the leading debaters in the British House of Commons, are extracted from Wheaton's Travels in England: Mr. HOBHOUSE is known as the companion Mr. PEEL is a young man, who, by his own merits and a lucky conjuncture of circumstan- and intimate friend of Lord Byron. He is a ces, has gained his present seat on the treasu- very common sort of speaker-his language ry bench. His father, Sir Robert Peel, is aand ideas are all of the common stamp; and wealthy cotton manufacturer.-The secretary his discretion apparently none of the best. is rather tall and slender in person, with car- SIR ROBERT WILSON is rather slender, and roty hair, light complexioned and hard featur- of swarthy complexion; there is nothing in his ed. He speaks with considerable energy; but personal appearance to indicate the chivalrous his manner has nothing graceful in it. He spirit he is known to possess. He speaks with steps forwards and backwards, slapping violent-animation, and now and then with much point ly, and with measured strokes, the desk or the and force. table before him; and wheeling often and suddenly to the right and left to address the house.

SIR FRANCIS BURDETT was on his feet very frequently in the course of the debates. His figure is on the whole rather singular-tall,

slender and erect; with a head quite protube-bowl, about six or eight inches in diameter; | rant and square at the top of the forehead. His the owner of each tickles his cricket with a Pr. Dev. For Newspapers, sir. features are sharp and diminutive. In address-feather, which makes them both run round Esq. to the Constellation, Dr. $3 00." Boy, I Twist. Ah, so, so-"Timothy Twistificator, ing the house, he seems to be embarrassed at the bowl in different ways, frequently meeting hav'nt got the money just at present; but I'll first, turning from side to side, and sawing the and jostling one another as they pass. After call and pay it on Saturday. air with measured strokes; but this awkward-several meetings in this way, they at length beness soon wears off. He is not an eloquent come exasperated, and fight with great fury, ficator. The boy is despatched once more with Saturday comes, but with it no Mr. Twistispeaker; he has a drawling, hesitating manner, until they literally tear each other limb from the bill. as if at a loss for words or ideas; or having too limb. This is an amusement for the common many, was perplexed in the choice. The for- classes; but quail-fighting belongs to the higher mer appeared to be the case. orders. Quails that are to be prepared for Dr. LUSHINGTON was one of the champions fighting require the strictest care and attention. of the late queen on her trial. He is of the Every quail has a separate keeper; he confines on Saturday. middling size, rather slender in person, with a it in a small bag, with a running string at the pensive and almost melancholy expression of top, constantly attached to his person; so that Constellation, $3 00." No consolation in that, Twist. I promised! Let me see-" To the countenance. The tones of his voice, too, are he carries the bird with him wherever he goes. I think. Here, boy, I do recollect something solemn, melodious and pathetic. The poor prisoner is rarely permitted to see the about it now; but it escaped my recollection

ficator.
Pr. Dev. Here's your bill again, Mr. Twisti-
Twist. Again! what do you mean by again?
Pr. Dev. Why the bill you promised to pay

Pr. Dev. Here's your bill, Mr. Twistifica-
Twist. Ah, true. Let me see, did'nt I pro-

Pr. Dev. Yes, sir, you promised twice to call

Mr. WILBERFORCE has in his manner as lit-light, except at the time of feeding, or when entirely on Saturday. However, I'll call and tle of art or study as can be imagined-it is the keeper deems it necessary he should take pay it day after to-morrow without fail. rather nervous and agitated-his gestures are the air for his health. When he airs his quail, Day after to-morrow comes without fail, but quick and angular; and in his more animated he will hold him in his hand (taking great pre- no Mr. Twistificator. The boy is despatched and triumphant moments, he flourishes his caution not to spoil his plumage) for two or a third time. arms aloft, erecting his head from its usually three hours at a time. The patient care and drooping posture. Every thing he uttered had attention of the Chinese to their fighting quails, tor. the appearance of coming warm from the heart, and singing-birds, are equal to those of the which seems to be the very throne of kind af- fondest mother for a favourite child. When mise to pay it a day or two ago? fections; the sanctuary of the afflicted. It is two quails are brought to fight, they are placed said that age and infirmities have, in some de- in a thing like a large sieve, in the centre of a and pay it. gree, impaired his intellectual vigour; but of table, round which the spectators stand to witthis no traces were perceptible on the present ness the battle and make their bets. Some knowledge. I hav'nt the change just now, but Twist. Well, I ought to have done it, I acoccasion. It is rare to find so much enthusiasm grains of millet-seed are put into the middle of if you'll call here at twelve o'clock, you shall in a man of his years he having accomplished the sieve, and the quails, being taken out of the have it. his threescore and ten. bags, are put opposite to each other near the Mr. CHARLES GRANT speaks under the influ- seed. If they are birds of courage, the moence of high intellectual and moral excitement; ment one begins to eat the other attacks him, every period teems with imagination, and senti-and they fight hard for a short time; say one or ment, and chaste and beautiful classic image-two minutes. The quail that is beaten flies up, ry. There are no prosing sentences-no and the conqueror remains, and is suffered to half-formed conceptions-no flat, insipid, or eat all the seed. I should suppose the best commonplace ideas, and, as extravagant as the quail fight never lasted more than five minutes. praise may seem,-could the father of Roman Sometimes one quail has been known to win eloquence have been an auditor, he must, I several battles, and, all of a sudden, get beat-sure it was two I mentioned. However, if I did think, have confessed a rival in some of the es-en by a new and untutored bird; a circumstance say twelve, I have forgotten it. But if you'll sential qualities of an orator. A gentleman which occasions high betting and fresh en- take the trouble to call at two precisely, I'll present, who had often listened to the elo- counters, until the new comer is again beaten have the money ready for you. quence of Fox, and Pitt, and Burke, in the days in his turn.-Dobell's Travels.

of their glory, assured me, that he had never

witnessed a more lively impression produced

by either of them, than by this address of Mr. Spirit of Contemporary Prints.

ing washed the ink from his fingers, once more
At twelve o'clock the imp of the office, hav-
takes the bill to Mr. Twistificator's.
Pr. Dev. I've brought your bill, sir.
Twist. Is it two o'clock already?
Pr. Dev. No, Sir, but it is twelve.
Twist. I told you to call at two, did'nt I?
Pr. Dev. No, Sir; at twelve.

Twist. An't you mistaken, boy? I'm pretty

At two precisely the imp is again despatched with the bill.

Pr. Dev. Is Mr. Twistificator at home?
Clerk. No; he's just stepped out.
Pr. Dev. Here's a bill for newspapers, which
he told me to bring at two o'clock, and he would

Clerk. I dont know any thing about it, he

Grant. For my own part, I could not avoid surrendering myself, and all my faculties, to the AVOIDING PAYMENT OF A BILL. ascendancy of the speaker, and was kept in a There is often a wonderful deal of ingenuity sort of a trance while he occupied the floor; exercised in avoiding the payinent of a small pay it. nor did the audience generally appear to be bill-and by persons who are abundantly able less moved. The plaudits were loud, long, and at any moment to put their hands into their left no orders with me. frequent. He held a card in his hand, on which pockets and meet the demand-by persons, who he had pencilled a few words to assist his me- are prompt at discharging their large debts, mory; but the whole was evidently extempora- and would sooner drown themselves than have neous. He seems not to be in good health; and a note protested. Yet these persons, much as retired, after speaking, into a nook, apparently they value their credit in large matters, are not imp proceeds to Mr. Twistificator's. exhausted. He appears to be about 35, slender ashamed to put off the payment of small bills, Pr. Dev. Has Mr. Twistificator returned in person, with rather small features of Scot- on the prompt discharge of which the comfort, yet?

Pr. Dev. What time will he be in? Clerk. Probably at half past three; you had better call then.

Accordingly at half past three, the bill-ious

Pr. Dev. Here's your bill, Sir.

Twist. Let's see, I told you to call at two o'clock, did'nt I?

Pr. Dev. Yes, Sir, and I called.

Twist. The devil you did! I saw nothing of

tish mould, and very light hair. A phrenolo-perhaps the subsistence, of the poor creditor Clerk. Yes, but he hasn't finished his dingist would criticise with satisfaction his high, depends. They are not ashamed to be guilty ner yet. Wait half an hour, and he'll be done. well turned, expanded forehead; and a head, of a shuffling and deceit which would disgrace The devil, determined to hook him this time, which might serve as a model for a statuary. the veriest mountebank in existence. They do waits patiently for half an hour, and luckily His features are composed, even amidst the not say bluntly, "I can't pay it," or "I won't gets sight of his sweet phiz. highest flights of his imagination; and exhibit pay it." The first would be discouraging, the few visible marks of the creative fancy' or the latter offensive.-They go to work in a differlabouring thoughts intense,' save in the small ent mode; they meet the subject obliquely, ingray eyes faintly scintillating through the long stead of looking it in the face. white eye-lashes by which they are oversha- The following, if not the exact picture of dowed: and, possibly, in their inner angle, any given case, bears so near a resemblance to which seems to be habitual. many, that it may be taken as a general likeness of the species. We will here suppose ourCHINESE SPORTS.-Besides cards and dice, selves to be the creditor, and the printer's they have other sports and games of chance devil the messenger of bad tidings to a shuffling peculiar to the country. The most remarkable debtor. are quail-fighting, cricket-fighting, shuttle-cock played with the feet, and tumbling, at which they are very expert. To make two male crickets fight, they are placed in an earthen

Pr. Dev. Is Mr. Twistificator at home?
Twist. That's my name.

Pr. Dev. Here's a little bill against you.
Twist. A bill against me! what for?

you.

Pr. Dev. Nor I, of you.

Twist. How did that happen?

Pr. Dev. You know best, Sir; I called according to your orders, and you happened to

be out.

Twist. Are you sure you called at two?
Pr. Dev. I am very sure.

Twist. Well, it's very strange where I could be at that time. However, I'll see if I've got

money enough. [Takes out a roll of bank notes.]] How much is the bill?

Pr. Dev. [His eyes glistening at sight of the money.] Three dollars, Sir.

Twist. I hav'nt any thing less than a

dollar bill.

ten

Pr. Dev. Shall I take it and get it changed? Twist. No; I wont put you to that trouble. Pr. Dev. It's no trouble at all; I can do it in half a minute.

Twist. No; I'll get it changed, and send the money early to-morrow morning.

The devil being fairly beat, returned; and it is presumed the ten dollar bill is yet unchanged, as neither the money nor Mr. Twistificator has yet appeared.-N. Y. Constellation.

"To check improvidence in parents, your Com-vide for the annexation of parts of the Indian terrimittee conceive that it would be prudent and proper tory to different counties in the state, are omitted. "An Act to add the territory lying within the to assess a yearly tax, perhaps of five dollars for all children between the ages of three and thirteen chartered limits of Georgia, and now in the occuyears. This would prevent persons from too carelessly incurring the responsibility of parents, while pancy of the Cherokee Indians, to the counties of it would be oppressive to no one, inasmuch as the Carroll, De Kalb, Gwinnet, Hall, and Habersham, expenses of a child at home in the poorest and most and to extend the laws of this state over the same, miserable manner would much exceed that amount. and to annul all laws and ordinances made by the "This tax alone, if adopted throughout the repub-Cherokee nation of Indians, and to provide for the compensation of officers serving legal process in said lie, would furnish from ten to fifteen millions annuterritory, and to regulate the testimony of Indians, ally, to the Public School Fund. and to repel the ninth section of the act of eighteen "In what manner the surplus above this amount may be raised most beneficially, your Committee hundred and twenty-eight upon this subject. "Sect. 6. And be it further enacted, That all the think it unnecessary, at this early stage of proceeding, to inquire. Convinced they are that no appli- laws, both civil and criminal, of this state, be, and cation of public funds is so essentially beneficial to the same are hereby extended over said portion of the people, or would be more willingly sanctioned territory respectively, and all persons whatever reby them than this, and that the expense to the na-siding within the same, shall, after the first day of tion will be but a drop in the bucket, compared to June next, be subject and liable to the operation of said laws, in the same manner as other citizens of The following curious story of a murderer is told the national benefits therefrom to be obtained. this state, or the citizens of other counties respec"Among the chief preliminary difficulties, your in the Nottingham Review: Committee remark the deficiency of competent teach-tively, and all the writs and processes whatever, "Some time ago, a man was hanged at Calcutta, who was a good swimmer and could remain a longers, and suitable school-books. The first, your Com-issued by the courts or officers of said courts, shall mittee conceive, may be surmounted by the establish- extend over, and operate on the portions of territory while under water. Availing himself of his ability "Sect. 7. And be it further enacted, That after to slide himself into the place enclosed with palisa-ment of a Model State School, where teachers may hereby added to the same respectively. be trained; and by rendering the office of public does, where the Indian ladies go to bathe, he used to seize one, without being seen by the others, and teacher so honourable and desirable, that the best the first day of June next, all laws, ordinances, ortalent in the country would be enlisted for public ders, and regulations of any kind whatever, made, drown her, and then rob her of the jewels which education. To meet the second, your Committee passed, or enacted by the Cherokee Indians, either these ladies never lay aside, even when they are in general council, or any other way whatever, or by bathing. The other ladies, seeing one of their friends suggest that government should offer liberal premiums for the best set of school books, a compen- any authority whatever of said tribe, be, and the same disappear suddenly, believed she was carried away dium of the useful and liberal arts; the exact sciences, are hereby declared to be null and void and of no by some crocodile. At last it happened that a young and every other branch of an accomplished and eneffect, as if the same had never existed; and in all cases of indictment or civil suits, it shall not be lawlady, who was attacked by this robber, succeeded in lightened education. escaping from his horrible attempt; and to the great ful for the defendant to justify under any of said "In conclusion, your committee would express laws, ordinances, orders or regulations; nor shall the surprise of every body, she told them that she had A their firm conviction, that in proportion as the Me-courts of this state permit the same to be given in been attacked, not by a crocodile, but by a man. search was made for the ruffian; and, on being taken, chanics and Working Men of our city, of our state, evidence on the trial of any suit whatever. he avowed that he had followed that trade for seven and of our republic generally, interest themselves in "Sect. 8. And be it further enacted, That it shall this subject, in proportion as they take a firm, deci-not be lawful for any person or body of persons by years past." sive stand, and adopt enlarged and liberal views in arbitrary power or by virtue of any pretended rule, regard to Public Education-in the same proportion ordinance, law, or custom of said Cherokee nation, to prevent, by threats, menaces, or other means, to endeavour to prevent any Indian of said nation, reA new satire is in the press at Charleston, S. C. It siding within the chartered limits of this state, from enrolling as an emigrant or actually emigrating, or is intended as a touch at the poets, and is from the removing from said nation; nor shall it be lawful for EDUCATION. We have received and read with pen of a writer of some note. The following synopsis any person or body of persons by arbitrary power or pleasure, the report of the sub-committee of New of its character is from the Charleston City Gazette. by virtue of any pretended rule, ordinance, law, or custom of said nation, to punish in any manner, or York on the subject of education. It advocates a "We have been permitted to peep into a few of to molest either the person or property, or to abridge national system, by which the children of the poor the first pages of "The Age of Rhyme, or a Glance the rights or privileges of any Indian for enrolling and rich shall be fed, clothed, and educated at the at the Poets,' a new satire, now in press in this city, his or her names as an emigrant, or for emigrating, expense of the nation. This project is enforced by from the pen of one of our citizens. There is a slip- or intending to emigrate from said nation. shod and graceful ease about it, coupled with a good "Sect. 9. And be it further enacted, That any the most powerful and convincing arguments, which deal of bitter poignancy, which, in literary affairs, person or body of persons offending against the prowe only regret our limits prevent us from reprinting. admirably spices and makes the dead letter of com-visions of the foregoing section, shall be guilty of a The following are the suggestions in relation to rais-position palatable and exciting. The dexterity ex-high misdemeanor, subject to indictment, and on hibited in the introduction-the preparatory parley conviction, shall be punished by confinement in the ing sufficient funds for the support of this system: for melee-is such as to pursuade us of the severity common jail of any county of this state, or by con"Your Committee conceive, that education is and keenness of the stroke which follows; and, we finement at hard labour in the penitentiary for a emphatically THE BUSINESS OF THE GOVERNMENT. doubt not, that the lady-like scribblers of the Ame-term not exceeding four years, at the discretion of What is the first and chief end of government, if not rican Athens will feel rather sore under its infliction. the court.

LITERARY PORT FOLIO. will be the ultimate success of their cause.

THURSDAY, JUNE 24, 1830.

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to produce peace and harmony among men? And The whole herd is roused by the hunter, from Jem- "Sect. 10. And be it further enacted, That it shall what means are so effectual to produce peace and my Percival to Johnny Neal. Willis is made to offer not be lawful for any person or body of persons, by harmony, as an enlightened public education? Is it up his devotions to L. E. L. (his pet puppy) on the arbitrary power, or under colour of any pretended not the magistrate's duty, if he knows that a crime spirit of a bended knee-and from Robert Walsh rule, ordinance, law, or custom of said nation, to prewill be committed, to prevent its commission? And to James M'Henry, the game's afoot-and the vent, or offer to prevent, or deter any Indian, head do we not all know, that to leave twenty thousand chase is inveterate and unsparing. The work, we man, chief, or warrior of said nation residing within children, as we do now in this very city, to the edu- understand, is in forwardness, and will appear in a the chartered limits of this state, from selling or cedcation of chance, in our streets and alleys, will lead few days." to the commission of crime? Is it not, therefore, clearly and positively, the magistrate's duty to provide for Public Education?

ing to the United States for the use of Georgia the whole or any part of said territory, or to prevent or offer to prevent any Indian, head man, chief, or warTHE INDIANS. As a subject of interest we pub-rior of said nation, residing as aforesaid, from meet"Again, is it not to protect the helpless and op-lish below, the law of Georgia recently adopted by ing in council or treaty, any commissioner or compressed, that governments are instituted! And who so helpless and oppressed as a child whose parents the legislature of that state, by which, it will be per-missioners on that part of the United States, for will not, or cannot procure for it a useful, rational ceived, that the Cherokee Indians must either leave any purpose whatever. "Sect. 11. And be it further enacted, That any education? Is not this a species of oppression from the state or submit to the laws of Georgia. It must which it will probably never recover? which may be remembered that one of the requirements of the visions of the foregoing section, shall be guilty of a person or body of persons offending against the proleave its blighting effects on mind and body, while life remains? If to protest from such oppression, be Constitution is, that no body of people shall be suf- high misdemeanor, subject to indictment, and on not a sacred, binding duty of government, what duty fered to enact and enforce laws within the jurisdic-conviction, shall be confined at hard labour in the Is sacred and binding? tion of the Union, distinct from those enforced by six years, at the discretion of the court. penitentiary for not less than four, nor longer than "We hold the opinion, therefore, that there is no the state in any of whose sections they locate them- "Sect. 12. And be it further enacted, That it shall call for the public money, more strictly, and immediately, and essentially for the public benefit, than in selves. A dreadful outery has been made in refer-not be lawful for any person or body of persons, by the case of public education. And we are further ence to this law of Georgia. We suggest to our arbitary force or under colour of any pretended rules, convinced, that there is no expenditure of the peo-readers a full investigation and knowledge of the ordinances, law, or custom of said nation, to take ple's funds that would be more cheerfully sanctioned the life of any Indian residing as aforesaid for enby them than this; provided they were satisfied with case, before they form any hasty judgment. It is as listing as an emigrant, attempting to emigrate, cedindispensable that the rights of our citizens be pre-ing or attempting to cede as aforesaid, the whole or "Your Committee are of opinion therefore, that served as those of the Indians, although we are not any part of said territory, or meeting or attempting whatever expenses may be necessary for the esta-advocates of any oppression of that people. to meet in treaty or in council as aforesaid, any com blishment and support of National Public Schools, missioner or commissioners as aforesaid, and any per The five first sections of the act, which merely pro- son or body of persons offending against the provi

the system of education itself.

should be borne by government.

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