NOT THE GLORY OF GSAU; BUT THE WELFARE OF HOME. BY H.B.STACY. FRIDAY, .TUNE 10, 1836. VOL. IX No. 615.. It la now and llicn only we find amidst llio mul titudinous rtiymcs in I he daily columns of our news paper) a few verses worthy of presentation. The following is from n Tennessee bard wlioso lalenled -effusions arc worthy of notice, Tlio subject is Slander (well adapted to our ge we think,) and though it contains many truisms wo cannot forego the pleasure of extracting a few stanzas and should iliey happen to suit any one's particular case who may peruse them, we hope it will prove u lastiiig benefit ; for, next to liittmptrancf Slander it the most prolific evil with which so cicty ii now troubled, Alas! that a desire to prattle. Should give extended circulation, To so much mischief-making tattle, And so much idle speculation ; And so much round-about abuse, Just for the sake of spreading news ! Man's so meddlesome an animal, As often moralibts make mention. That what concerns him least of all. Meet often with the most attention : And what concerns him most to know, Is often least attended to. llo sees within another's eye, The mote resolves it shall be shewn ; But is the last one to uasyry, The monstrous beam that's in his own ; Which if he'd turn attention to, He'd always find enough to do. Even death's no refuge from their tongue Lies insecure the slumh'riug dust ; For with their band of malice strong, They'll pluck the duplet from the bust ; That noble deeds award the brave, And spit their venom in the grave ! The face oft nets a smiling pait, When malice fiom the soul proceeds ; Is oft the index to the heart, Ofdeep designs am darkest deed.-', There's many a handsome, well shaped boot, Conceals an ugly, cloven fool. Many in whom we most confide. Aro the le.ist worthy of our Hint ; To us, our ev'ry fault they hide, But lay us lowly in the dust Willi other people. Gratitude Is very scarce in this latitude. Oh man ! frail e'ering animal ! Tiiutt thoughtless cicaluie of a day ! Win is thy charily so small, When life so soon must pass away, And all Eternity reveal, A scene thy conscience knows too well 1 I once thought, when I was quite young, All people worlhv of my trust, That iriith was spoken by ev'ry tongue, And ev'ry churchman holy just ; The longest face u practised art, The index to the holiest lie.iit. Experience soon my mind prepared, To trust to neither tongues nur ph-i ; Far even religion's sacred garb, Is worn too oft as a disguise : And tear-net eyes too oft conceal, An unrelenting heart of steel. THE BRIGAND'S C'HLD. AN ADVENTURE IN THE APPENISE3. 1 vra9 journeying among some of the rugged and romantic scenery of Italy, when my guide suddenly stopped and by his ama zed loolu, plainly indicated the presence of danger, tt was past mid-duy,ond we were impatient to reach our destination ere nightfall. I hud scarcely asked the postil lions what occasioned the stoppage, when n bullet whizzed past us, and looking in the direction whence it came, saw a half a dozen or more fierce looking fellows with presented rifles, taking aim at us, Per ceiving death to be so near, and desirous of averting it, I signified to the brigands my perfect readiness to give up all I possessed, and only required the preservation of our lives. My words had the effect of arrest ing the brigands' purposes and they came down from their position, informing us, however, that we must accompany them to their commander, who had solemnly sworn to kill every Englishman that fell in his power, in order to revengo the death of his brother, who had fallen in an action with a party of Englishmen, some days before. This was not pleasant intelligence ; my life seemed bpared only for a moment, for the brigands assured mo that their chief wasimplacable,and my guide had previous IV entertained me with eotnc narratives oft lie ferocity of Michael Barossini, the recollection of which served to corroborate the testimony of the robbers. I afterwards learned that this ravage chief had ordered his men to bring every Englishman they found on the road before him, that he might havetho luxury of putting them to death himself, and that two days belorc he had sacrificed a fellow countryman of mine to hia revenue. I was. bltudlulded and con ducted through glades and ravines for some considerable time, and when the handker chief was taken from my eyes, I found my self in tho presence of the draadful brigand Barossini. He was a man of Herculean nroDortions. with large dark eyes, and mat ted locks thickly falling over his sun burnt cheeks. Ho cved me with savago lerocily but there was still something noble in his appcaranco which led mo to expect that my appeal to his mercy would not be inef fectual. But tho death of his brother was too young in his memory, and all my words wcro of no avail. "The Englishman's blood must be shed, he cried, 'to satisfy my murdered brother. Entreaties wero of no avail ; he was firm and resolute, and having given mo a few moments for preparation, ho turned away to fondlo his child, a boy about three years old, who camo running towards mm. I thought it strange that after deciding upon euch an atrocious act, and with the expec tation of slaughtering a fellow crealuro in hia mind, ho could caress his child, and display so much of human emotion. At length, putting the boy from him, ho turned savagely towards mo, and ordered his men to conduct mo to the piaco ol execution This was the brink of o precipice, which it was fearful to look down from. " cious Heaven," I cried, "you are not going to dash me down this precipice. ' "Not alive," growled ono oftho banditti, " vou will fall down when the captain has nicked you, and spare us tho trouble." Tho low momenta that ensued was eoi , cmn. 1 stood upon the brink or eicrnny ; tho savage Herculean brigand was prepar ing his rifle for the death shot, and the bri gands were gathering around him anxious for the horrid sight that was to ensuo. At length, every thing was ready ; Michael Barossini took up his position and ordered his men to stand away from him ; tho rifle was uplifted, and the savago eyes of the brigand wore taking aim at my heart ; nt tho motnont, the brigand's child, who had no knowledge of the dreadful proceedings that wero going on, came dancing towards me. A thought struck me that this child might be made the instrument of my pres ervation. I started forward, snatched tho boy in my annt, and then cried out to tho brigand to fire ! The riflu fell from Barossini s hand, and he was coming towards me as if for tho purpose of tearing the child from my breast. But I drew towards the precipice, and holding the boy stretched over it, I demand cd my life as the condition of the safety of tho boy. Barossini, stung to the quick,soized upon his rill'.', and was presenting it again, when his wife rushed upon him, hold hisrrnnd besought him to save her child. Hie scene was solemn and striking. The natural feelings of the man were combat ting with the savage ferocity of the Brigand. Barossini remained with his eyes hxed up on me, and Ins child, who still remained suspended over the precipice, and crying aloud lor Ins lather to save him. The mother hung upon the brigand's arm, and endeavored to move him from his purpose. Nature triumphed, and he encu, Uivc ine mv child, and go,' ' And what security shall I have fur my salcty.' I enquired The brigands honor, was Barossim's reply. Seeing that 1 hesitated, he contin cd, 'You do not know ma. Vou have not heard of Michael Barossini. or you would have known, that brigand though he is, his word has never yet been broken. But here stranger' continued he, throwing a dagger towards me, ' take that and the boy with you, till my men shall have placed you in satoty. The nobleness of this action was in strik ing contrast with his previous conduct. I took the dagger and promised that the boy should return in satoty. "1 expect Baros sini replied, "so lung as thebov is safe, you are sale also, tie looked at the boy as tl wishing to embrace htm, but evidently thinkin,r that the action might make mo suspicious, he mastered his feelings. But the mother could icit assume such heroism. She saw the boy in my ono hand, while tho other held the brigand's dagger, and Bhe came to me beseeching mo that I would permit her to kiss her child The luuk, the tone, the action of tho woman, were all so touching, that whatever little heroism I may have possessed lorsook me, and placing tlio trembling boy in his mother's arms, I cried "Barossini, I will not take away your child!" The brigand's features relaxed not ; and after rugarding me fur a few seconds, he remarked, 'You shall not loose any thing, Englishman, for your humanity and respect for the feelings of tho mother nt my child ;' and then turn ng to Ins men he gave them some dircc tions, and as ho departed, ho entreated me o remain with htm a tew moments. "I am glad to sec you have so much confidence in an enemy, he ami. "Vou have won my admiration. For your sake I make pcaco with all vour countrymen The brigands now returned, and Barossin nformed that thev wero ready to conduct me to the road, and that ihuy should attend me so tar as there might be the least dan ger of falling in with tho brigands of his party. I thanked him, and asked one favor, that he would return some miniatures which were among the property the brigands had captured. They will return them to you. was the Barossini a reply. "Farewell." I kissed the little urchin that had been the instrument of my preservation, and depart ed. On my arrival in the road, I found the chaise exactly on the spot where it had been Bloppou, with the guide and postillions in waiting, uui wnai surprised me most of all, was to find that not an article of my property was missing the brigand had re. stored the whole. rrtOFANITY ITS ORIGIN AND EVILS. It is a point too obvious to require proof, that profanity has its origin in unworthy and degrading conceptions of tho character and government of God. Such views, it is scarcely lest obvious, shut out the man who entertains them, from a most impor tant and efficient means of his own intellect ual and moral improvement. By a law of our nature the human soul assimilates itself to the objects of its own contemplations. Every body understands that pursuits which give litllo exercise to the intellectual powers, tend to circum scribe and cripple those powers. To attain to the stature of perfect men, the facultios of the mind, like those of the body, must bo developed and expanded and matured by exercise patient, continued, habitual exerciso. Thus it is that the investigation of truth in tho various departments of ab stract science, in physics, law, politics, and morals, bring forward to our admiring view, such men as Newton, Locke, Puller, Ed wards, Mansfield, Burke, Marshall and Cu vicr. Thocourso of discipline, far moro than wo aro accustomed to consider, makes euch men what they are. Each step up ward and onward, sharpens the mental vision and expands its horizon, ond imparls new strength nnd vigor for that which is to follow. In obedienco to this law, tho youthful artist compascs sen and land to study the productions oftho masters of his art, that he may catch something of the Gra-lsamo inspiration, and imbuo hit mind with something of the eamo spirit. In obedienco to tho same law, and for a kindred object, tho poet and man of taste, traverse tho fair fields of earth, and climb tho miuntain's top, and watch the forked lightnings, and tho foaming billows of the great deep, and hold convorse with the spirits ol the mighty dead. The imago of all that is beautiful and all that is grand in the conceptions of man, or in the works ol Uud, they 6eek to enstamp on their own minds by familiar contemplation. Our moral nature niso is subject to tho samo law. So delicate in deed i9 its tcxturo, and so easily is it im paired, that wo can hardly como in contact with what i9 morolly impure, without being injuriously affected. Accustomed by scenes of vulgarity, or impurity, or profaneness, tho moral feelings lose their sensibility, and bv degrees cease to bo excited in view of vico. The contemplation of moral virtue on liio other hand quickens the moral sens ibilities, adds to tho conscience new power of discrimination, and enlarges tho heart Evcrv parent in his deep and ceaseless so licitudc in regard to the associations of his children, feels and admits tho universality and energy of this law. Most beautifully has the inspired writor illustrated it when he says, "we all with open face, beholding as in a class, tho glory ot tho liord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, as by the spirit of tho Lord ;" and with admirable wisdom lias he also said 'whilsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things arc of sood report, think of these tilings." What subject then, it may well be asked, can bo presented to our contemplations so vast as the infinite mind i What works so grand as his, so curiously contrived, so ex qutsitely finished ? What law bo compre hensivo, so iust, so perfect as his law ? What wisdom so prolound, so cxhaustle9s as his ? What moral purity so spotless ? Bv degrading in our ovn conceptions, the character and government of God, as the orofano person necessarily docs, we shut ourselves out from a most important and effectual means of our own intellectual and moral improvement. Habits of profaneness also must noccssa rilv tend to weaken tho apprehension of moral obligation generally. Tho virtues it has been said are in their nature grega rious : they grow up and flourish together and, with equal truth it may be said, they anguish and die together. It could not be expected that tho man who profanely trifles with the character and attributes ot his Maker, would in other respects perform the duties of piety towards him ; and where the claims ot pioty arc disregarded, it can not bo expected that the obligations of be nevolence towards men will be very dis tinelly recognized. Is this expectation, in itself so probable, verified by facts ? Arc not profane men generally worshippers o tho god of this world, and Sabbath break cro? And do we not too frequently find profaneness associated with falsehood, and fraud, and drunkenness, and debauchery and perjury, and indeed with every crime? All history proves that there is an aflinity among the vices. Otto being admitted to a home in tho bosom, is naturally inclined to open tho door to ail the rest. Legal in vcstigations go on tins principle A wit ness proved to be of bad general character as to truth, is not to bo believed, unless corroborated by other witnesses. A man convicted of murder, or robbery, or theft or forgery, or other infamous offence, is presumed to bo so utterly devoid of moral principle that ho is not permitted to testify at an. in or is tho man who denies the ex istencc of a God and a stato of retribution after death. The law presumes that the man who has committed such an offence against his Creator or his fellow man, has so far extinguished all moral principle in his own soul, that ho is prepared for th damning sin of perjury. And what think you would that there wero no occasion to ask tho question what think you of the woman who can pollute her lips with oaths and curses ? Is she not bv universal consent lost to all that is pure and lovely and of good report ! It would be interesting to follow out this principle in its application to politics and public morality ; but this would be aside or mv present purpose. is indeed admitted that this tendency may bo and frequently is, resisted to a greater or less extent, by countervailing habits or motives, sucn as me force or education, I pride of charactor, respect for public opin I ion or sympauiy. xoi in is oy no means disproves tho existence of tho tendency. It simply ehows that it is not irresistible THE CONSUMPTIVE. BY E. L. BULWER, One bright day in June as I was betting alone in my room, I was suddenly roused from my reverie by a sharp sudden pain that Bhot through my breast, and when it left mo I fainted away. I was a little & larmed by this circumstance, but thought tho air might rolicvo me. I walked out and ascended a hill at the back of tlio house. My attention being now aroused and direct ed toward myself, I was startled to find my breath so short that I was forced several times to slop in the ascent. A low short cough, that I had not heeded before, now struck me as a warning winch I ought to prepare myself to obey. I looked in the glass for the first time for several weeks with any care in the survoy, I perceived that my ap prehensions wcro corroborated by the change in my appearance. My checks were fallen and I detected in thoir natural paleness, that hectic which never betrays its augury. I saw that my days wcro num bered: and lay down upon the pillow that night resolved to prepare for doath. The noxt nay when i looked over my scattered papers when I saw the mighty schemes 1 iiad commenced, and recalled the long and earnest absorption of all my faculties which even that commencement had required. I was seized with a sort of despair. It was evident that I could now perform nothing great, and as for trifles. ought they to occupy the mind of ono whose cyo was on the grave Thcro was but nswor to this question. I committed mv fragments lo the flames : and now there came indeed upon me, a despondency which I had not felt before. I saw myself in the condition of ono, who after much travel in the world has found a retreat, and built himself a home, and who in tho moment ho says to his heart "now sbalt thou have rest" beholds himself summoned away. I had found an object it was lorn from mo my staff was broken, and it was only left for me to creep to tho tomb without easing by any support the labor oftho way. I had coveted no petty aim : I had not bowed my desires to tho dust and mire of men s common wishes ; I had bade my am bition single out a lofty end, and pursue it by generous moans. In the dreams ofmv spirit I had bound the joys of my cxistenco to this ono aspiring hope nor had I built that hope on the slender foundations of a young inexperience. I had learned, I had thought, I had toiled, bofore I venturod to produce. And now. between myself and the uiliimcni or schemes that 1 had wrought with travail, and to which 1 looked for no unduo regard thcro yawned an eternal gulph. It seemed to me I was condemned to leave lifo at the moment I had given to ife an object. , There was a bitterness in theso thoughts it was not easy to counteract. In vain I said to my soul "Why grieve ? Death itself does not appal thco. And, alter all, what can life's proudest objects bring thee bet ter than rest ?" But wo learn at least, to conquer our destiny by surveying it; there is no regret winch is not to be vanquished by resolve. And now when I saw myself declining day by day, 1 turned to those more elevating and less earthly meditations which supply us, as it wero, with wings when the feet tail. They have become to me dearer than the dreams which tney succeeded and they whisper lo mo of a brighter im mortality man mat oi f ame. Sketch of Ins Majesty William IV. from "Random Recollections of tho House of Lords," just published, Here it is, cut and dry : "In parson the King is about the middle height. He can scarcely bo said to bo too corpulent, but his stoutness approaches lo it. Ills shoulders are rather high, and of unusual breadth. His neck has conse quently an appearance of being shorter than it is in reality, tic walks with a quick but short step. Me is not a good walker, know of no phrase which could more stri kingly characterize his mode of walking, than to say "ho waddles." The latter is not a very classical term, hut in the present case it is particularly oxprcssive. His faco is round and lull. His complexion is some thing between dark and sallow. What the color of his hair is, I cannot positively say, as on every occasion on which 1 have seen him he had either the crown or a hat on his head. As far as I could form a judgment it is of a light brown. His features are small, and not very strongly marked, con sidering his advanced age. His nose is short and rather broad than otherwise. His forehead is urctty ample both in breadth end heiglh. but has a flatness about it which deprives it of any intellect uai expression, ms large ngni grey eyes are quick in their movements, and clear and piercing in their glances. His countenance is highly indicative of good nature blended with bluntness. Yuu seo nothing either in his appearance or manners that would lead you to infor that he was other than a plain country gentleman. That he is good hearted and unattectcdlv simple in Ins de meanor, is a fact of which you are convinced the very first glance you get at htm. T beadle of a parish when clothed in his cloak of office, struts about at the church doo with an air of immeasurably greater self importance than William tho Fourth exhib its whon he meets in state the Nobles and Commoners of tho land. You cannot help thinking that he wishes in his heart he could either dispense with the prescriptive ceremonies tie has to go through at the open ing and closing of each Session, or that tho overflowing kindness of his soul, he for gets at the time he is the Sovereign ofthesc realms. Ills every look and movement fur nish evidence, not to be mistaken, of the man triumphing over the Monarch. It is clearly with difficulty that, in tho midst of the procession lo the throne, he restrains inmseli Irom suddenly stepping asido to shako hands with every nobleman ho sees around him. As it is contrary to the us ual practice of Kings on such occasions he nods and evidently says in his own mind, "How do you do?" to every Peer ho pas ses." from the Genesee Parmer. FARM STOCK. It is a pitiablo sight to go about the country and see the multitudes of poor cat tic which fill almost every farmer's yard in the soring of the year. Tho uncommon sevority of the past winter is the ostensible cause ot so much poverty among came ; but the truo source of tho evil is, 1 think, of earlier origin. Farmers almost univer sally in this wheat growing district, keep too much stock. Many arc tho farmers whoso wholo tock of cattle and young horses would not pay for the hey they have eaten during tho last winter. Of this fact very many are now sensible, and are deter mined to diminish their slock at all hnz zards, and some arc even now soiling their cows, the only part ot winch will avail them any thing tho coming season, to dro vers for 12 to 310, a less sum man mo cost of their keeping during the winter. Yet many of these farmers who have been so pinched this spring, will most likely, as grass comes, forget their troubles and their resolves, anu as inoir caivcs are urop ped, will say, 'Well it is a pity to knock in head such a pretty calf as thai ; I can't spare the milk to fat him, but I can bring him up on skim-milk,' and thus l.o is suf fered lo live, a skim-milk calf sure enough and tho next, and tho next, and so on to tho last, arc sufferod to live in the same woy. They pass tho summer very well ; butthe first snow squall in November fetch es them up under the windward side oT the fence, bleating and moaning must pitcously. Tlienthrwant9, the trial, the privations of llio last winter come up uciurc uur lunuurr in full view. He remembers his determin ation of reducing liis slock: but what can bo done? it is too late now to sell. His three year old steers might have been sold perhaps two months ago , but no drovers aro seen at this limo oftho year. 'Well, I have got a plenty of straw, and I guess they'll do;' and on he goes the same round, annually feeding out moro hay thanhis whole stock will amount to, and if ho sells ny it is in tho spring, in tlio very last pinch; when sure enough, twelve dollars is fair price lor the best ho has in his yard. This is indeed a sad picture, but is it not true of at least half of ail tho farmers in this wheat growing section ? Hay is high, al ways high, and so arc corn and oats. Good cattle too aro high ; a primo yoke of oxen, or a first rate cow, that has been stabled through tho winter, and fed on ruta baga, mangel wurlzcl nnd meal, morning and night, will fetch a good price. So do young cattle oftho improved breed. But who a mong us farmers is willing lo pay five dol ara for the service or an improved Durham bull? scarcely ono in fifty will do it. They had rather broed in and-in, as the English breedoralerm it, that is, from a bull of their own raising, whoso only recommend may be, that he was forgotten at the time he ought to have been castrated, and was too wild and unmanageable to submit to it af terwards. Our farms are many of them overstocked with young horses, although our breeds of horses aro far in advance of our cattle; very many of us keep more than wc can keep well. Many farmers havo an old marc, and four or fivo colls, which endure lhe severity of the winter with no other shelter than tho leeward sido ot a hay slack, and which in the spring bear a strong rcscm bianco to tho Florida cattle, so cbly de scribed by one of your correspondents, ol which it takes three to make a shadow. These, of course no one expects to disposo of until they aro broken and fit for service. It might seem that the severe lesson ot lhe last winter would have some abiding effect upon farmers, but there arc probably few who will proht oy it. From the Maine Farmer. CYCLES AND THE SEASONS. By a Cycle I mean a complete round of lime. To establish the truth of the doc trine of cycles, I shall premise that a little less than nineteen years has been found lo be a complclo round of seasons. I will consider periods of nineteen years and see what has taken place in regard tu heats and colds and have the reader infer what may hereafter bo expected. First, 1035. except the sixty days in the fall, which I attributo to the influence oftho comet, was a very cold year. subtract 19 years from 1835, and vou havo 1010 the coldest year ever known 111 New England. Sub'ract 19 years from 1 0 1 G and you Invo 1797, which was a cold year. subtract 19 years Irom 1797 ar.d you have 1770. At this period the coldest year was 1777, whon tho people of New England suttercd almost a famine. Uorn cobs were boiled and the broth drank, oats ground and made into bread. Flax seed was also ground and made use of for food in 1778, and many lived six weeks on milk alone. Deduct 19 years more and you have 1759, tho time, if I mistake not, ol what is called the 'Old French War,' and the year I bolicve, when Capo Breton was taken. It was before my remembrance, but I havo often heard of its being a cold year. Now let us take tho years of great heat 1031 was a year of uncommon heat. De duct 19 from that and you have 1812. In the fall of 101 1 the great comet appeared the heat was oppressive, and it continued hot fur the time of vcar into 1812. Aftc tho comet passed off south as usual, the wind was mostly north, Deduct 19 years from lUl'J, and you have 1793, which wa a hot season on this continent though 1793 which was hottest in Now England or this part of it. The year 1793 was the year that tho yellow fever raged in I'lnla delphia and elsewhere. Deduct 19 from tho last number and you have 1774, the year previous to tho American Reyolu lion; all the old soldiers now living re member the hot years of 1774 nnd 5. The year succeeding the cold year Ims al-vay been productive ; 1778 and 1817, I well remember, and thev were the most pro ductive years I ever knew. Why were they so? Is thcro any satisfactory reason lo bo given .' Tho tact will bo adnutte by all who recollect tho years. t will mention what I consider to be a few of the combined reasons, for I do not consider that it depends on any ono cause alone. The first is this. In the cold years which pre ceded tho year 1798 1798 and 1817 the earth had in a measure rested or produced small crops. Tho cold years wero all dry years. The year succeeding a drowth is thought by 6otno to be more productive. May not an other cause be in the seed. The most per fect seed of tho small grains id produced in cold seasons when they ripen slowly and are carried to tho greatest maturity. I take it to bo true that nothing of the small grains ought to be sowed but the best of the kinds full rlponed. And I will here beg loavo lo digress from the main subject and say that tho only hope of deriving much advantago from an cxhauge of seeds, is to tako them from a mountainous country ton flat and sandy one, and the revorsc.--In n flat and sandy country tho small grain tend every year to grow smaller in the straw and to ripen earlier in the season. Remedy seems to bo tu exchango with those from mountainous parts. Indian corn, pumpkins, &c, may do best to bo acclima- ted or t lie season inn v not bo long cnoiijjh for ripening them. The exchange of wheat from the mountainous parts to tho level may ho moro advantageous than any other grnins, but one should he careful nut to procure a worse article than his own. POLITICAL DEJECTION. We frequently hear from Borne of our good men, discouraging romarks concerning our public measure?, and even concerning the permanency of our political institutions, from which wo hold ourselves bound in conscience and expediency to withhold our assent. Indeed, despair seems to bo more grateful lo some minds than hope, and they prefer the most wintry prospect, with all its desolations and snows, tu the budding tree, tho reviving grass, and all the smile and promises of the returning spring. Wet will not say, by any means, that every thing in our political horizon is us promising as a sensitive heart and a sanguine mind could wish. There are 6ome spreading clouds which threaten storms; some agita ting questions before the Public. Our leaders have took little principle, and our poople too little discernment. Tho South is too irritablo, and the North too pragmatic; Congress has neither the dignity nor lha wisdom which one would wish to find in that high assembly ; and every where wc find proof that our country is peopled by beings to say the least not quite angola. But what then ? Shall wo sit down and de spair because wo cannot exalt the world to our own theories of perfection? No; let us rather adopt the old Roman maxim, never to despair of the republic. We bought our liberties by uur blood, and let us now strive to preserve them by our persever ance and wisdom. Let ua remember that these gloomy prophecies have a tendency tu work out their own accomplishment. Ho that predicts destruction will only be half awake when wo struggle for success. What is our present stale ? We havo ust escaped the nonage of our national ex stence. Our country resembles a giddy young man who has just como to the pos session of a large estate. We have grown beyond all example in the history uf nations; our whips cover almost every ocean, and wealth ttows in on every gale. The ro- nown of our liberty has gone out to Eu rope, and brought in a host of foreigners to our shores ; we invite them to equal privi leges, aud universal suffrage soon brings them lo llio polls. Under such circum stances that the people should sometimes be the dupes ol demagogues', excites 110 wonder. Perhaps the present age is thu most cri ic.il juncture. 'Perhaps it is the very ferment 'jy which our discordant ma terials aro to settle into some consistency. Perhaps at the very ncxl presidential elec tion Webster may reach his reluctant eleva tion, and Van Huron bo dismissed to his be loved retirement. At any rate, wo mav tave a hundred storms and bad steersmen. and yet lite ship survive. The irinli is, we have no sympathy with this groaning wisdom; and we abominate the prophetic inspiration which foresee nothing but calamities. Of all croakers, genuine political croaker is the worst. An excitement can hardly pass over tho land a mob can hardly occur in one ofour greal cities, but some of these moping Sol omons aro ready ,to cry out, "Alas! il i all over with us; our nation is rotten and liberty is dead ; and wc may all as well gu to sleep Farewell, a long farewell, to nil our greatness." Now this is a wrong Bpirit. Go to work lo counteract tho evils of the times ; gird on your armor like a man ; always como out at every olection, and vote according to your conscience tor 1110 best men ; labor to enlighten tlio community, and breathe tlio ptnt nt liberty into its forms ; talk, act, preach, proclaim, write, pray, instruct by procepts.and second them by your example; and be assured, with such a spirit, even in the minority of our citizens, our countbt isYK.rsAFB. There is a wisdom in hopo when 11 is fuUe, which cannot be found in dorpair when it is true. Xewburyp't Her. GENERAL HARRISON. 'lhe following beautiful apostrophe, received on a public occasion, three or four years ago, in one of the western slates, is dislingui.hed by irue pa liticul feeling and feminine sensibility. It evinces in its author n glowing ratitude for the "veteran pioneer." General Harrison was present at lha time of its delivery. It is perhaps needless 10 add that it is fiom the pen of a lady. Poulton's Ad. Rejoice ihou veteran pioneer ! win bore 't he tide tinil burden uf the data of yme ; Rich is lhe hermitage thy children claim A BRIOIIT EXAMI-LE AND A SPOTLESS NAME: They cluster round thee.in life's glowing prime. Their hearts unfrostcd by the enows of time ; As the joung saplings of the forest bend, Where lhe broad oaks (heir elder boughs extend, And nhen theerar leaves duller in the blast. itouuo ine sage trunx luxurious Honors can. And as life's sunset hues shall fall Calm o'er the laml.cape, then, in scorn, Thou shall this glowing hour lecall I'lie great elevating truth, That thou, to nations jet unborn, A priceless heritage shall leave ; That genius, weeping o'er thy urn, The wreath of gratitude shall weave, Shall light the darkest shadts of even, Andanlidatc the dawn uf Heaven 1 Site, revered and veteran hoary, Thine the honors of this day : Sons of freedom heirs of glory. Swell with ns the choral lay. riie people of lhe Mississippi Valley. A Feline Trout Catcher The Columbi an Herald lulls a wonderful! story of a cat in that vicinity who regularly dinea on trout twice a week. Mi is Puss resides in tlio neighborhood of a Creek which is fa mous for fine trout; and unlike most of her species, the is not afraid to wet her feet i for at every favorable opportunity she re sorts to flmlUnv parts of the Creek afore said, nnd conceals herself in the bushc, darts upon hor prey as il glides like light ning through the water.