ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM. VOLUME XXV. Semi-monthly Journal, Embellished with Engravings. W. B. STODDARD, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. HUDSON, N. Y. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1848. WHXW D NEW ORLEANS. From Sears' Pictorial Description of the United States. PAYABLE IN ADVANCE. NUMBER 2. THIS city is situated on the left bank of Missis-fauxbourgs. Between the city and the bayou St. sippi river, which has here a singular curve, that John's are the villages of St. Claude and St. Johnsplaces the city on its northwest side, and facing burg. The old city proper was laid out by the to the southeast. It is one hundred and five miles French, and now forms not more than one eighth from its mouth, by the course of the river, but only of the city limits, and not more than one fourth ninety in a direct line. It is about eleven hundred of its thickly-settled parts. The coup d'œil of the miles from St. Louis, fourteen hundred from New-city, when seen from the river is extremely beautiYork, and twelve hundred from Washington. New ful. Many of the principal strects making a curve, Orleans is the fourth city, in point of population, from the shape of the city, New Orleans has been and the third in commerce, in the United States. called the "Crescent city." Its rapid increase in population has not been equalled, probably, by that of any other city in the Union. In 1810, it was 17,242; in 1820, 27,176; in 1830, 46,310; in 1840, 102,193. The public buildings are the United States branch mint, which is an edifice of the Ionic order of archi. tecture, merchants' exchange, commercial exchange, city exchange, city hall, courthouse, the The old city proper is in form a parallelogram.statehouse, formerly the charity hospital, sixteen Above the city are the suburbs of St. Mary and Annunciation, and below are the suburbs of Marigny, Franklin, and Washington. These are called churches, some of them elegant buildings, four or- The situation of New Orleans for commerce is very commanding. The length of the Mississippi river, and its connected waters, which are navigated by steam, is not less than 20,000 miles, and the country which they drain is not surpassed in fertility by any on the globe. Its advantages for communication with the country in its immediate vicinity are also great. By a canal four and a half miles long, it communicates with Lake Pontchartrain, and its connected ports. This canal cost $1,000,000. There is also a canal, one and one fourth miles long, which communicates with Lake Pontchartrain through bayou St. John. A railroad, four and a half miles long, connects it with Carrollton. A railroad, four and one fourth miles long, connects the city with Lake Pontchartrain, one mile east of bayou St. John. The Mexi-) can gulf railroad extends twenty-four miles, to Lake Borgne, and is to be continued to the gulf at the South pass. The Mississippi, opposite to the city, is half a mile wide, and from one hundred to One hundred and sixty feet deep, and untinues of this depth to hear entrance into the cocan, where are bars, with from thirteen and a half to sixteen feet of water. An embankment, called the Levec, is raised on the river's border, to protect the city. The Levee is from twenty to forty feet broad, but in front of the second municipality is extended to five or six This forms a splendid promenade, and a very convenient place for depositing the cotton and other produce from the upper country, which can be rolled directly from the decks of the steamers to the bank of the river. hundred feet broad. The harbor presents an area of many acres, covered with flat-boats and keelboats in its upper parts. Sloops, schooners, and brigs, are arranged along its wharves, and present a forest of masts; and steamboats are continually arriving or departing. The amount of domestic articles exported exceeds $12,000,000 annually, being greater than those of any other city in the Union, excepting New-York. The houses of the city proper have a French and Spanish aspect, are generally stuccoed, and are of a white or yellow color. The city proper contains sixty-six complete squares: each square having a front of three hundred and nineteen fect in length. Few of the streets, excepting Canal streets, are more than forty feet wide. Many of the seats in the suburbs are surrounded with spacious gardens, splendidly ornamented with orange, lemon, magnolia, and other trces. No city in the United States has so great a variety of inhabitants, with such an astonishing contrast of manners, language, and complexion. The French population probably still predominates over the American, though the latter is continually gaining ground. The city was founded by the French, in 1717. In 1762 it was conveyed to the Spanish, who in 1800 reconveyed it to the French; and in 1803 it was purchased by the United States, in the pur. chase of Louisiana. On January 8th, 1815, the British, under Gen. Packenham, made an attack on the city, approaching it through Lake Borgne; but they were signally defeated by the Americans, under Gen. Jackson. The British loss, in killed and wounded, was three thousand men, and Gen. Packenham was killed; the Americans lost only seven men killed and six wounded. A mistaken impression prevails in some sections of the Union, in relation to the moral character, and healthfulness of the climate, of the Crescent city. But while not free from those evils incident to all large and crowded populations, still, in proportion to its size, New Orleans is as free from vice as any other city of the Union, while scenes of violence and bloodshed are not more frequent than in some nothern cities. The yellow fever is but little more to be dreaded than those pulmonary complaints which yearly sweep away so many thousands of victims at the north. And as to the dampness of the land, that is yearly becoming of less account as the cultivation and second soil more and more dwindle away its evil effects. For personal safety, men, women, and children, are as secure from insult or injury there, at all times, and under all circumstances, as in any city in the world. ALI From the Model American Courier. CIRCUMSTANCIAL EVIDENCE. BY PROFESSOR P. S. RUTER [Continued.] SCENE VI. That Evening Ride. As the young lawyer passed up the west end of town he overtook Mr. Easton. The latter gentleman was always very friendly with his aspirant son-in-law, besides that Maxwell and Manton were his attorneys, and of course more or less acquainted with his chief business transactions. Easton said he had just received a very handsome offer for part of a tract of land belonging to him and lying on the road, and that he was riding out to look at it, in order to determine if it could be advantageously divided, and how. He expected it would take about an hour to run over it with a pocket compass. The old gentleman chatted and laughed in unusual good humor, evidently rendered so by the prospect of the profitable speculation he was about making. Riding perhaps three miles farther, he came up with an emigrant's wagon, stopped in the middle of the road, by the side of which sat an elderly female, evidently an Irish woman, weeping bitterly and holding in her arms the apparently lifeless form of a little girl of ten or twelve years. Another girl, some two or three years older, was standing by the mother's side, wringing her hands in the utmost distress; while a lad of about sixteen was hastily unharnessing one of the wagon horses, as if to ride for medical help. "Are ye a docther-are ye a docther?" exclaimed the distressed old lady eagerly, as Manton rode up-" O for the love of Christ, stop and help us, sure my darlin' little Lucy is kilt intirely!" Manton dismounted instantly and took the still senseless child in bis arms to examine it, while the weeping mother told him how the accident occurred: that the little girl was leaning from the side of the wagon to look back, and fell out, striking her head violently against a rock in the road. It was but a single moment before Manton had appeared in sight. The latter, in the course of his almost universal reading, had acquired some general knowledge of Encouraged by his good nature, Manton ventured medicine. He ascertained immediately that the after a while to introduce a subject he had not child was only bruised and stunned by the fall, and spoken upon (to him) since it was first prohibited; not at all dangerously, though the head was conand pr ceeded respectfully to express the hope that siderably cut and bleeding profusely. Returning his own principles, prospects and habits, had been the little sufferer again to the arms of the mother sufficiently tried to allow of the father's consenting he re-assured her, and taking a bucket from the to his long deferred suit. The testy old man be-wagon, ran to a neighboring stream for water. came instantly very angry. "Mr. Manton," said he, interrupting the young man's eager pleading, "I told you two years ago, that when you were worth twenty-five thousand dollars, you might ask me for my daughter, and so help me God, sir, you shall never marry her a moment sooner." At this instant two horseman appeared in sight, but Easton seemed in his passion not to notice them, and continued, much to the mortification of the young man, in a loud and angry tone "And sir, Fanny has given me her promise that she will never marry you till you are worth that sum. If I were to die to-morrow, she would never listen to you a moment the sooner. Look you, sir," continned the old man taking out his pocket book, "here are twenty-five thousand dollars; now sir, whenever you can say that you are worth so much, I'll listen to your request, but if you mention this subject again till that time, by heavens, you shall never marry her at all." By this time the two horsemen had met and passed them, though they stared wonderingly at the others as they rode by. Manton's face was crimson with mortification at the old gentleman's angry indelicacy; still he noticed that one of the two was a person well known to him, while the other was a stranger, poorly dressed, riding with a blind bridle and without a saddle, upon what seemed a wagon horse. Just then Easton turned aside into the woods, having arrived at the corner of his land. His companion drew his rein a moment, as though uncertain whether to follow. Chancing to turn in the saddle, he observed that the two horsemen who had passed them were looking back, as though to see the result of a quarrel. So he turned again to the road and proceeded slowly onward, in, it must be confessed no very agreeable state of mind. A little of this sprinkled in the girl's face, soon restored her; and he then aided the mother to bind up the wounded head, assuring her that immediate medical aid was needless; the very bleeding was itself beneficial, as tending to prevent subsequent inflammation; an casy position was all that was requisite; let her place the child among the bed-clothes in the wagon, and they might just as well proceed immediately with their journey. The whole family were overwhelming in their gratitude to him who had so kindly and usefully aided them; and more to interrupt the outpourings of the mother's grateful heart than from curiosity, Manton made some enquiries, while the boy was re-harnessing the horse, about their destination, &c. The woman said she was a widow, was moving westward,-somewhere,—that she had a young man hired to drive for them, manage the horses, &c. but he had forgot something in the town they had passed through a while ago, and had taken the lead-horse (it was a three-horse wagon,) and gone back for it. The rest there were her own children. They usually camped by the road-side for the night, but should now push on to the next town, some twelve or thirteen miles ahead, so that if her child needed it, they might get a "docther." Manton knew that her hired man must be the stranger he had met, with Mr. Dennison, when so mortified by Easton's irritability. It was not till after a warm maternal embrace, with prayers for ten thousand blessings on his head, that the truly Irish-hearted widow would part from her new friend and suffer the wagon to proceed. The sun had set some minutes since and the nearly full moon was up. Returning immediately to the little stream above-mentioned, Manton proceeded to remove as much as possible the stains of the child's blood from his clothes, using for this purpose a pocket-handkerchief, which he afterward partially cleansed in the water and then placed in his pocket; wrapping it previously in an old newspaper he chanced to have about his person, to prevent it's staining his pocket. "Miss Easton," replied Maxwell, "fourteen gentlemen present it produced an impression, and particularly upon Maxwell, who had known Man-years ago, I was clerk of the court which bound ton best and longest. He immediately offered his services to the prisoner, as additional counsel, and the offer was accepted with proper acknowledge ments. Arrangements were then agreed upon for the measures necessary to be taken, and the gentlemen In searching his clothes for the newspaper, he missed, for the first time, one of his pistols, and returned immediately to the scene of the late adven-separated. ture, to look for it. Disappointed here, he turned again towards town, riding at a slow walk so as to examine minutely, in the moonlight, every foot of ground as he passed over it. came in, wholly unsuccessful. No vehicle of the sort or description named had been seen or heard of, in any direction. Five or six expresses were immediately started out in as many different directions towards the West, with accurate descriptions of the wagon in question and its inmates, and with orders to examHe had not proceeded more than two or three ine every county road for forty miles distance. hundred yards in this way, when the sound was Before the three days of delay, granted by the heard of a horse's feet in a hard gallop; and imme-examining court, were passed, all the expresses diately after a man appeared in sight, riding towards him, whom, in the clear night, he easily recognized to be the stranger he had met going to town in the afternoon, as he and Easton rode out, and who, he doubted not, was the hired man spoken of by the widow. The man's delay in town seemed to have put him in great haste, for he rode by Manton at full speed and without a word. The latter thought, from something in his manner of riding, that he was either a very poor horseman or intoxicated. He soon forgot the circumstance, however, in the eagerness of his own search of the lost weapon, as he continued slowly homeward. Two miles farther he suddenly stopped and dis. mounted, as something upon the ground, glittering in the moon's light, arrested his attention. It was Easton's watch, he knew it well, even without the initials, and he stared in consternation as he saw that it was on one side crusted with blood? It seemed to have been let fall, but could the owner have dropped it? He looked around him,-he was not yet within a quarter of a mile of Easton's land! He drew out his own watch. It was half-past 9 o'clock. In his slow search, he had been an hour and a half riding the last two miles. Turning to his horse to remount, a dark object on the ground caught his eye. He stooped down, and scarcely trusting his own senses, picked up--Easton's pocket-book-the very one the old man had shown him three hours before, and spoken of as containing $25,000! Upon this too, were the marks of bloody fingers! Without another moment's delay he re-mounted, his mind full of the most exciting and gloomy apprehensions, and turned homewards at full gallop, never slackening his speed for an instant, until, when within about a mile and a half from town, he heard his horse's feet splash, as though in water. The singularity of the existence of water there, at that dry season, induced him to turn back and examine it. And as he leaned over from the horse to look at the place closely, he uttered an involuntary exclamation of horror. Near the centre of the road lay a small pool of blood! Although now dreadfully anxious, in the conviction of some terrible accident, or more probably crime, Manton threw the bridle over his arm, and proceeded to search minutely every part of the ground within fifty yards around him; but nothing could be discovered, and with a heart tortured by the most horrible apprehensions as to Easton's fate, he re-mounted, and under whip and spur returned to town. Here Manton's narrative ended. Upon both the The examining court was held. No defence was made, and Henry Manton, Esq. was fully committed to stand his trial at the next superior court, now three months off, for the wilful murder of John Easton. SCENE VII. Woman's Confidence. Three months are passed, and it is the last day before the commencement of the session of superior court. We are in the parlor of Easton's mansion, where sits the late so lively Fanny Easton, now sad, and dressed in deep mourning. Maxwell, too, is there in earnest consultation with her. This gentleman has been appointed by the court guardian to the young heiress, and (in the absence of any will,) administrator of her father's estate. "Are you sure," asks Fanny, "that you have done every thing possible to get them here in time ?" Henry Manton, a poor, destitute orphan,as appren tice to Mr. Howland,the cabinet maker. I watched the boy for six years, and then took him into my office. He studied with me five years, and has been my partner in business for three years more. During the whole fourteen years, though often placed in circumstances of great temptation, he has never once been accused or suspected of doing a dishonorable action, or of telling an untruth. I have believed him the most strictly honorable man on the face of the earth. As his counsel, he has told me every occurrence of that dreadful evening, which, if we can prove by one single credible witness, will exculpate him entirely. And I believe him to be as innocent in this matter as I am my. { self." "O, may Heaven bless you for the words!" ex. claimed Fanny, bursting into tears-" I have been sure of it from the first-I have never, for one moment, believed he could be guilty of such a crime; but I feared my feelings towards him might perhaps influence my judgment, and I have so much desired to know that there was one single honorable man who could think as I do." My dear Miss Easton," said Maxwell, kindly but seriously, "I have told you my own opinion candidly, as you desired it, but I must warn you against the belief or expectation that a jury can be found in the country who would agree with me. Whatever they might think or wish to believe they are sworn to decide according to evidence. When say that I believe him innocent, I must tell you also that I do so in the face of all the evidence, on the strength of my long acquaintance with the man. I do not think he would tell a falsehood to I save his life. But the circumstances against him are terrible-the strongest that I ever knew, perhaps I may say that I ever heard of-to exist against an innocent man." "Every imaginable means have been used, I assure you," answers Maxwell. "Expresses have been sent, in some directions, near two hundred "Mr. Maxwell," said Fanny, after another miles, placards are stuck up every where, and ad-pause, “will you take a message from me to him?” vertisements inserted in all the western newspapers of the State." "And yet no news ?" "Not one syllable." "Mr. Maxwell," said the lady, after a pause, "I know you will not deceive me ;-tell me, are the persons employed in this scarch acting with sufficient energy in the business?-do they act as they naturally would if they had much hopes of success?" "The inducements are certainly strong enough," replied Maxwell, evasively; "rewards are offered from $100 to $500, for more pieces of verbal information, of such sort as nobody who knows would hesitate to give." Ab, much indeed did the prisoner need the support of even the knowledge that one single person believed him innocent. During the first days of his imprisonment, he had seemed and had professed "Are you prepared, then, and able to bear the himself confident of producing the witness, by worst ?" asked Maxwell. "I am." "That is not what I mean." "Then I must tell you, not one of those employed in the case acts with the most distant hope of success. Even I myself think, if he is cleared, it will be by a miracle." The young lady covered her face with her hands, groaning deeply, while the unconscious rocking of her body to and fro, betrayed the terrible mental agony she was suffering. Suddenly she raised her head, and in a clear, calm tone, asked "Mr. Maxwell, do you believe him guilty?" whom he could prove enough of the incidents of his own narrative to his counsel, at least to exculpate himself from the dreadful charge against him, even if it failed to account for the commission of the crime by another. But as day after day and week after week passed away, and the different means and messengers employed utterly failed to obtain any evidence whatever in support of his statements, the confi dence he had at first manifested began evidently to give way. O, how often, during those three months of anx isle at the hour when the moon glowing on high displays her silver face in the dark waters. I hear no sound save the monotonous murmur of some neighboring brook, or at intervals the shrill note of some wandering night-bird. I listen-all is silent but these. Now imagination gives language, as it were, to the stillness, and I hear almost the pure voice of some guardian spirit ; "Shall I not see thee once again, My own my beautiful Champlain ?Now Reader! you shall have the conclusion of my story. Arthur Richardson had a sister. "And what of that?" do I hear you ask?" do not we all have sisters ?" True; but if you have a sister so beautiful, so engaging in her manners, so modest and unassuming in her deportment, and in a word, so cheerful and kind as was the amiable Maria, you are among the most fortunate of broth ers. "Had Maria a lover?" Yes! every body loved her. But there was one person who felt an indescribable sensation of pleasure when he sat by her side, or rambled with her along the edge of the lake. Oh! how the warm heart of that guileless maiden beat when she listened to the words of affection breathed from the lips of her companion. They loved. They were married. Need I tell you the name of the happy bridegroom? ** You have not forgotten the old motto, I trust," said Arthur to his friend, as the latter was leaving with his bride to return to the city. "No! I likewise remember the lines the school master Mr. Blake, taught us when we were his pupils: "Art thou straying far from home, In a fair and verdant land. God will grant thee full success." Gorham, Maine, 1848. BIOGRAPHY. LYDIA M. CHILD. They are very well drawn, and the sketches of is the only classical romance deserving any con- In 1831 she published The Mother's Book, and in 1832 The Girl's Book, two volumes designed to exhibit the reciprocal duties of parent and child, in their several relations to each other, which had a large and well deserved success. In 1841 Mr. and Mrs. Child went to reside in New-York, where they conducted for some time The National Anti-Slavery Standard, a weekly gazette of which the title indicated the object and general character. For this she wrote much, not of the subject of slavery only, but of many others that belong to the country and to the age, and in all her articles showed an earnest spirit, generous sympathies, and wide knowledge. In the summer of 1841 she commenced a series of Letters to the About the same time, for the Ladies' Family editor of the Boston Courier, which were so fresh, Library, published in Boston, of which she was so spirited, and familiar, and had about them so editor, she wrote lives of Madame de Stael and much of pleasing individuality, that they were reRoland, in one volume; Lives of Lady Russel printed in all parts of the country, and came to bo and Madame Guyon, in one volume; Biog- looked for with as much interest as the new numraphies of Good Wives, in one volume; and Thebers of the magazines. Upon the publication of History and Condition of Women, in two volumes. the fortieth letter they were collected and issued in These are all interesting and valuable books, ex- a volume, under the title of Letters from Newhibiting taste and judgment, but marked by little York. None of the booksellers seemed willing to of the individuality which distinguishes her more publish them, but the indications of their popularity were such as could not be mistaken by the author, and she therefore printed the first edition on her own account; and the rapid sale of thousands after thousand copies, secured a ready market for the second series, which appeared in 1845. original productions. In 1833 Mrs. Child published The Coronal, a collection of miscellaneous pieces in prose and verse, many of which had before been printed, in the lit. erary annuals; and in the same year her Appeal for that class of Americans called Africans, which was the first work that appeared in this country in favor of the immediate emancipation of the slaves. It was earnest and able, and was read with deep interest both at home and in Europe. A copy of it falling into the hands of Doctor Channing, who had not before been acquainted with her, he walked from Boston to Roxbury to introduce himself and to thank her for writing it. These Letters are on every variety of subjects that would be suggested to a thoughtful, earnest and benevolent mind, in the houses, thoroughfares, and public assemblies of a city, in a period of excitement and transition, and every one of them strikes a chord to which the heart of some reader will vibrate in unison. Fact and Fiction, the last volume which Mrs. Child has given to the public, is a collection of tales, of various kinds, but all characteristic and excellent, which she had previously published in the periodicals. The Children of Mount Ida, and A Legend of the Apostle John, relate to classical times, and have the marble polish and chasteness of her Philothea. To another, Hilda Sillverling, a fantasy, she has imparted the interest and imagery that belong to Scandinavian manners and scenery, But perhaps those which have most of her own individuality are The Neighbour-in-Law, an admirable illustration of the power of kindness in soften In 1835 appeared the most beautiful of her works, Philothea, a romance of Greece in the days of Pericles. It had been four or five years in its progress, "for the practical tendencies of the age, and particularly of the country in which I lived," she says in her preface," have so continually forced me into the actu 1, that my mind has seldom obtained freedom to "ise into the ideal." She had made a strong effort to throw herself into the spirit of the times," which is prone to neglect beautiful and fragrant flowers, unless their roots will answer for vegetables, and their leaves for herbs." Buting and moulding natures beyond all other influenthere were seasons when her soul felt restless in this bondage; in these she abandoned herself to pursuits of a more congenial sort; and, led by love of the romantic and beautiful, among LYDIA MARIA FRANCIS, now Mrs. DAVID LEE CHILD, commenced her literary life with Hobomok, a Tale of Early times, published in 1824. She had resided several years in Maine, far removed from all literary associations, but was then on a visit to her brother, the Reverend Conyers Francis, minister of the Unitarian church, in Watertown, and now of Harvard University. One Sunday noon, soon after her arrival there, she took up a number of the North American Review, and read Doctor Palfrey's article on Yamoyden, in which he eloquently describes the adaptation of early New England history to the purposes of fiction. She had never written a word for the press-never had dreamed of turning author-but the spell was on her, and seizing a pen, before the bell rung for the afternoon meeting she had composed the first chapter of the novel, just as it is printed. When it was shown to her brother, her young ambition was flattered by the exclamation, "But, Maria, did you really write this? do you mean what you say, she attempted to depict the life of Athens in its that it is entirely your own?" The excellent most glorious age, when Pericles presided over the doctor little knew the effect of his words. Her destinies of the state, Plato taught in the Academy, fate was fixed; in six weeks Hobomok was fin- Phidias, built temples and carved statues of the ished. It is a story of the Pilgrim times, and the gods, and Aspasia captivated sages by her beauty, scene is chiefly in Salem and Plymouth. Among and overthrew the severity of female manners by the characters are Lady Arabella Johnson, Gov-appearing unveiled at the symposia of the wits.ernor Endicott, and others known in history. Except Mr. Ware's Zenobia and Probus, Philothea "The intelligible forms of ancient poets, ces, and the Beloved Tune, an expression of mental experience, resembling some of the fine pieces of imagination interspersed with the second series of her Letters from New-York. Mrs. Child has a large acquaintance with common life, which she describes with a genial sympathy and fidelity-a generous love of freedom, extreme susceptibility of impressions of beauty, and an imagination which bodies forth her feelings in forms of peculiar distinctness and freshness. Her works abound in bright pictures and fanciful thoughts, which seem to be of the atmosphere in which she lives. She transfuses into them something of her own spirit, which, though meditative wwwww and somewhat mystical, is always cheerful and radiant. In her revelations on music, illustrations of the doctrine of correspondences, and all the more speculative parts of her various writings, she has shown that fine purception of the mysterious analogy which exists between the physical and moral world, and of the mode in which the warp and woof of life are mingling, which is among the first attributes of the true poet.-Griswold. MISCELLANY. MEMORY OF THE DEAD. How sacred the memory of the dead! We will not, cannot forget those whose affections were early entwined around our hearts in the holy bonds of friendship. They may have died on foreign shore, far from home and friends, with no kindred spirit upon whom they might cast a farewell look, ere they entered the heavenly world, but they still live in our hearts. When we visit our familiar retreats, and meet not their smiling face, we think of them -we think of them too, at the calm twilight hour, and at bright smiling morn their image is not forgotten. The stranger may lightly pass over the grassy mound which covers them-'twill not disturb their repose. Their is a sweet, a holy sleeptheirs is rest which none shall disturb. Calm be their sleep-and though recollections of them may cause the tear-drop to fall, we will not call them back from their long home, to again mingle with the vanities of earth, and again meet its trials. We will silently look upon the turf which covers themwe will there plant the evergreen and the thornless rose, as a partial tribute to their memory, and then leave the spot-prehaps forever, but while life and reason last, we will think of them-cherish their memory as a choice plant. True indeed, they have mingled their once lovely forms with the dust, among the rich and the poor, the virtuous and vicious, but the immortal spark within is transplanted to a fairer clime—even Paradise, the home of an. gels. HARD OF HEARING. “I HAVE a small bill against you," said a perti- Schoolmaster" Bill Tompkins, what is a wid ow!" Bill" A widder, sir, is a married woman that haint got no husband, cause he's dead." Master-" Very well. What is a widower." Bill "A Widderrer is a man what runs arter the widders." Master-"Well, Bill, that is not exactly according to Johnson: but it will do. A BEAUTIFUL THING.-What is it, little girls? Guess. Shall we tell you? Hark! It is a neat, sweet, modest, virtuous little girl; one who is cheerful as a lark, pure as the rose, charming as the lilly, lively as a squirrel-skippingly obedient, quick as a flash to do just right. At such a sight, O clap your hands joyfully!-Golden Rule. A COUNTRYMAN applied to a solicitor for legal advice. After detailing the circumstances of the actly as they had occurred. "O, aye, sir," rejoined A LEGAL ANECDOTE. RECENTLY while attending a court held in JCounty, when Judge S. presided, a very plain ques-case, he was asked if he had stated the facts extion was presented for the decision of the court. It was argued claborately on the wrong side, and when the opposite attorney (a real Paddy, who had just waded through Blackstone and Chitty, so as to enable him to obtain a license,) rose to reply, he was stopped by his honor, who informed him that his opinion was made up aginst him, and that he would have no farther argument.—Paddy laid his hand slowly on a volume of Blackstone, and opened where the leaf was carefully turned down, and commenced reading the law directly in conflict with the opinion of the court. "Stop, sir," cried the Judge," I have decided the case, and my mind is no longer open to conviction, nor will I have any further argument in the case." "Oh," said the lawyer," I did not intend to argue the point, nor did I expect to convince your honor -I only wanted to show the court what a blasted fool old Blackstone was." Such laughter as went up from every part of the court house, was beyond the means of the sheriff or court to control for some minutes, when Paddy was fined a dollar for his slander of Blackstone, and the court then adjourned to liquor. THE latest case of absence of mind, was that of a servant girl, who used to help herself to her mistress' wardrobe, fancying all the time that it was her own. mistress found some property of her's in her trunk, She didn't discover her mistake until her A NEGRO Out South brought a hat, and upon going out into the rain was observed to take it off his head and try to keep it from the wet, and on being asked why he did so, answered-" Hat mine, head massa's." "WHERE is the hoe, Sambo?" "Wid de rake massa!" "Well, where is the rake?" Why wid de hoe" "Well, well-where are they both ?" "Why, both togedder, massa-you 'pears to be berry 'ticular dis mornin'!" FIGHT hard against hasty temper. Anger will come, but resist it strongly. A spark may set a house on fire. A fit of passion may give you cause to mourn all the days of your life. Never revenge an injury. The Rural Repository. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1848. FIRE! FIRE! ON Thursday evening last, our citizens were alarmed by the cry of fire, which broke out in the Paper Hanging Manufactory of Wm. R. Steel, which, together with its contents, wind, which with the assiduity of the firemen prevented farwas entirely consumed. But fortunately there was not any ther damages. The damages are estimated between four and five thousand dollars. We understand there was no insurance. TO POSTMASTERS. POSTMASTERS who receive this will do us a great favor by acting as our agent, in their immediate vicinity, if circumstances will not permit, please to hand this to some one, who would be willing to do so, and procure subscribers, according to our terms on last page. Letters Containing Remittances, Received at this Office, ending Wednesday last,deducting the amount of postage paid. Mrs. E. B. W. Flint Creek, N. Y. $1,00; T. V. D. Newark, N. Y. $1,00; D. L. G. Bath, N. Y. $3.00; L. M. Winooski Falls, Vt. $4,00: E. S. Waterbury, Vt. $4,00; P. M. Java Village, N. Y. $5,00; B. B. K. Norton's Mills, N. Y. $1,00; H. S. Sheffield, Ms. $1,00; M. B. A. Stephentown, N. Y. $1,00; S. C. F. Middleville, N. Y. $5,00; R. M. Romulus, N. Y. $5,00; D. L. W. Albany, N. Y. $1.00; A. S. Union Square, N. Y. $5.00; C. M. Orangeville, N. Y. $1 00; W. C. E. Sennett, N. Y. $1,00; H. A. D. B. Livingston, N. Y. $0,75; E. E. F. Parish, N. Y. $3,00; S. McP. Reed's Corners, N. Y. $5,00; S. C. Clocksville, N. Y. $5,00; C. J. Cornwallsville, N. Y. $1,00; J. B. Berlin, N. Y. $1,00; H. B. Croton Point, N. Y. $1,00; L. W. New Albion, NY. $1,00, O. R. B. West Pittsfield, Ms. $6,00; M. G. Elbridge, N. Y. $1,00; M. M. McC. Ira, N. Y. $4.00; Mrs. E. B. W. Flint Creek, N. Y. $1,00; G. D. B. Red Hook, N. Y. $1,00; T. N. New-York City, N. Y. $1,00; D. L. G. Ludlow, Vt. $7,00; E. W. Rochester, N. Y. $1,00. MARRIAGES. In this city, on the 3d inst. by the Rev. Leroy Church, Mr. Cornelius Coventry, of Stockport, to Elizabeth Hardick, of this city. On the 3d inst. by the Rev. Leroy Church, Mr. William Lapham, of the firm of Plank & Lapham, to Miss Ann Eliza Van Valkenburgh, both of this city. On the 11th inst. by the Rev. Henry Darling, Mr. Henry Carpenter, to Miss Hannah Jessup, both of this city. With the above marriages we received a parcel of cake, for which we express our thanks, and in return wish them an abundance of joy and happiness. Like sunset gleams that linger late, Are hours like these, we snatch from fate, The brightest and the last. In this city, on the 2d inst. very suddenly, Mr. Nicholas Kittle, in the 48th year of his age. On the 3d inst. Miss Sarah Webb, aged 83 years. In New-York, on the 3d inst. Capt. Leonard H. Van Hoesen, in his 69th year, formerly a resident of this city. At Hillsdale, on the 30th ult. Mary wife of Abraham Jordan, in the 42d year of her age. At Chatham 4 Corners, on the 6th inst. Phebe, wife of Mr. Isaac Hoes. In Stockport, on the 14th ult. Rebecca, wife of Robert Chittenden, in the 44th year of her age. In Nantucket, on the 24th ult. Ruth Barnard, aged 81 years and 9 months. In Nantucket, on the 26th ult. Deborah Swain, aged 78. |