Newspaper of Burlington Free Press, April 7, 1837, Page 1

NOT THE GLOIIY OF CiESAR JUUT THE WELFARE OF HOME. BY It. B. STACY FRIDAY, APRlLi 7, 1837. VOL. X--No. 511. uxricntMKNTa of vAntoua manukks on ro-i TAT0E3. Tho following extracts from "Dickinson's Agriculture," will show that in Great Brit Bin, particular attention has been given to salt as a manure. To show its utility as o manure in a more clear point of view, the following experiments were made by the Rev. Mr. Carlwright. A certain portion otsoinicrrugmoussauu u...i,i t n ilnn texture by a liberal cover ing of pond mud) was laid out in beds one yard wide and forty long: of these, 25 vcre manured, I he first excepted as follows: Kinds of Manure applied. II No manure 157 198 150 19? 107 155 184 159 175 192 220 167 175 183 199 201 240 217 180 189 171 178 187 185 195 2 Sail, 4 pccll 3 Lime, one bushel 4 Sunt, one peek Wood ashes, two pccKs Saw dust, three bushels Malt dust, two pecks Peal, three bushels j 9 Decayed leaves, tnrco uusnen 10 Fresh dung, tlirec dusiicis 1 1 Chandler's graves, nine lbs. 12 Sail, nmo 13 Salt, lime, sulphuric acid 14 Salt, lime, peat 15 Salt, lime, dung 16 Salt, lime, gypsum, peat 17 Salt, soot 18 Salt, wood ashes 1 0, Salt, saw dust 20 Sail, malt dust 21, Salt, pent 22 Salt, pent, bono duH 23 Salt, decayed IraV-'s 24 Salt, pent ashes 25 Salt, Chandler's ennves "The quantity of ingredients the bame as when used singly. On the same day the whole wos planted with pot aloes a single row in each bed; and that the genoial experiment might bo conducted with all possible accuracy, each bed received I he same number of sets. On the 21st of September, the potatoes were taken up. when the produce of each row was according to the annexed table. It is ob-erved a being remarkable, that of i en different manures, most of which aro of known and acknowledged efficacy, sail, a manure hitherin of an ambiguous character, is superior to them all, one only excepted, and that when used in combination with other snb-tunccs, it is only unsuccessfully npplind in union with that one, namely, Chandler's graves, no nih-r manure seem ingly being injured hv it: possibly its de terinrniing 1 five's on Chandler's grav- - nny ho owing to its antiseptic properly, which retard-the putrefactive process by which animal substances undergo ihe changes no ces-ary to qualify I hem to become the food of plants. This, however, he cannot, from unv appearances in the soil when the plants we're taken up. assert to have been I he case. The extraordinary effect a of tall, when combined with soot, he thinks arc striking ly singular: there is no reason to suppose those effects were produced by any known chemical agency of soot and i-alt on ench other. Were he to guess atlhc producing cause, lie should conjecture it to be I hat property of saline substances by which they oilracl moi-ture from the atmosphere; for he observed ihnsc beds where salt had boon used were visibly and palpably moister than tho rest, even for weeks nfier the snlt had been applied, and I his appearance continued until rain foil, when of course, ihe dislinc. tion ceased. This property of atlracling moisture had greater influence possibly, on the soot than on any of tho other manures, as soot from its acrid and dry nature may be supposed to require a greater proportion of water to dilute it, than those substances which contain water already. It may bo proper to observe, that on those beds where salt had been used, the plants were obvious, ly of a paler green than tho rest, though not less luxuriant : a circcmslance which he thought worth noticing, and which ho con sidered, though erroneously as appeared by the event. to indicnic a want of vigor, which would bo fell by the crop. It was obse'vable also, thai whore salt was appli ed. whether by itself or in combination, the roots were free from that scabbiness which oftentimes infects potatoes, nnd from which none of Ihe other beds anil there were in the field nearly fifty more than what made part of these experiments were oitogctli or exempt." THE TRUE USB OP RICHES. BY M. M. NOAH. The editor of the Star ever and anon e'rikee off. in that free and easy stylo which is peculiar to him, sketches of manners and eucicty, which evince a perfect savior vivre, and an admirable knowledge of the world and its usages. We always make a point to reproduce thoso scenes of real life in the columns of the Mirror, as they are pervad cd by a spirit of mild humor and cordiality towards thu writer's fellow men, and their observance would havo a useful effect upon morula and manners. Tho subjoined is as pertinent and applicable as any of tho Ho ration satires and epistles on the subject. Jf. Y. Mirror. 'Why anil not arichman?' said a very in tolligcnt person to ua, when looking at a splendid equipage which rattled down Ilroadway. It was the equipage of a man of wealth a man of yesterday) a parvenu, in tho more fashionable phrase, who made n fortune suddenly by buying larms and nelling them out in lots, and who was do tcrmidod by thu splendor of his houso, tho magnificence of hie entertainments, and tho richness and varioly of his liveries, his loud talk & consequential air, to show that he did not belong to the quictfamilics of eomc hundred years ofdiitinclion and wealth o who never offend by ostentation, nor cx dibit a heraldry to which they arc not on. titled. Wo gazed at several of similar growth tho riches which sprung up over night like Jonah's gourd ; some by specu lotion, others success: somo by fortunate marriages, and sotno more crcdilablv by mechanical labor and ingenuity. 'Why ami 'not a rich man?' said tny friend. 'I must purchase somewhere in the west or in tho moon no matter whero j I must plunge in the current of speculation, and swim onto fortune and eminence. I must bo rich; every body tries to bo rich why should not I lie rich? I am liberal in my disposition, hospitable and freo. I should like to have such a coach and pair of horses a houso of corresponding magnificence. I should like to throw it open several limes yearly, for ihngoy and fashionable throng: I should like you lo dino twice n week with mo, and punish a fow bottles of old, cry old Madeira, Why am I not rich? I deserve to bo rich'-said hc,muRing,and at intervals tlroping his voice, aa he slowly withdrew his eyes from the long cavalcade of coaches and phtctous, and whiskered footman. Hundreds, no doubt, thought as ho did ; hundreds expressed the same feelings, and felt the same desires, and all under the de lusion that money is wealth; that sheer palpable gold and silver constitute riches; and it is under this delusion that thousands of our citizens are racking their brains by night, thcirlhoughts by day, toiling and sweating, and managing, and twisting and turning out of the common, settled and regular order of things, to get gold and sil ver, under the impression that with their possession they will bo rich. Statesmen, politicians, nay the government itself is in oculntcd with the same mania, and if all could succeed, we should bo compelled to blacken our own boots, and wait upon our selves at tablo. Tho delusion, however, consists in this in considering a piece of gold ihe only representative of wealth, and disregarding what we in ourselves possess, which is equivalent to wealth. We arc for the most part rich, without exactly knowing it. The anvil of the blacksmith is to him, with his handicraft, a valuable mighty lump of gold ; ho lives by it, nnd to his mind, habits, and wishes, aa well as he liyes who pays out his eagles and half ea gles in the market. So with the painter so with the professional man, tho sculptor, the musician, the man of talents; nil who possess the means of acquiring wealth arc actually wealthy; for if temperate and in dustrious, all their faculties arc convertible materials into wealth ; nay. arc more valu able, and durable, and available than the mere man of gold nnd silver. Let such a man swim to the shore from his shipwreck ed vessel, with the mechanic and tho man of mind, and sco who can succeed in earn, iug that morsel of broad necessary to sua tain life. What does tho man of princely income do, wlncn gives to mm so many supposed advantages, and opens lo much mooted happines? Ho rises late; turns day into night: dawdles his time awoy in trilling finding employments, drives hU horses and dogs givoa grnnd dinners for ostentation, and large parties for fashion: and is at best a poor, discontented, dys peptic patrician, respected only fur his gold and silver, and to no possible use to the community. Toko the man of moderate means, and he employs life as life ought to be employed a mixture of employment and recreation, or rational pleasure and discreet hospitality go down to what is called the poorer classes which we call the substantially rich the hardy mechanic, and see how he enjoys life. Rising with tho sun, his labor uocs not cense until Ihe sun ainka into tho wes,. He returns to ti is little family and tenement at night, nnd finds an ampla board spread by a frugal wife Ihe smoking steak, the the good cup of coffee, the white bread and buttor, and an appetite sharpened by labor Ilia repast over, he takes his chubby boy upon his knee, pinches his dirty, rosy cheeks, and runs his fingers through his matted hair ; talks with his w ife on house hold offairs , reads the paper, or converses with his neighbor on the bost'mcans of sav ing ihe commonwealth ; and when the hour of rest arrives after committing him. selfto tho protection of his Mnkor, he stretches himself on his hard but healthy bed, and soon his senses are steeped in to forget fulness, and his sleep is sweet and sound until tho shrill clarion of thu cock awakens him on tho morrow to renowed Inbor. lint ho has no coach. He has not Ho has only lo go into the street and hold up his finger, and a splendid omnibus nnd four elegant horses drives up to tho side walk, and he jumps in ; it is his coach while ho occupies it, and to leave it when and where ho pleases. Can I ho man of gold and silver do more ? It is an error a misconception, a delusion. We aro all rich when wo possess within ourselves ilia means of acquiring wealth. Wo havo no poor, excepting the idler and the drunkard. A Running Gypsy A very singular character is existing at present in tho mighborbood of Letherhead, in the person of a boy known comonly as Jack tho gipsy he is about fifteen years of oge, and his ac tivity is surprsing ; ho will commonly fol. low (lie nounus on toot, and nineteen limes out of twenty comes in at tho death ; he leaps fences and ledges actually as high as himself, novcr wears shoes orstockings.and has several times run upwards of forty miles right out. He frequently amuses himself by running (barefooted of course) for miles on the turnpike. road, beside tho coaches or mail He has lately been backed to run against the Letherhead coach from that plnco to London to rest until the aiternoon, and run back ; the odds aro in favor of tho boy, Somo gentloinon in tho vicinity of Epsom havo taken groat notico of tho lad -, but ho is a wanderer by nature, and cannot be ta med down to regular hours, rcgulir diet, or tup. ijcconcy of shoos and stockings ; his) greatest luxury is in roving whero and when he pleases' and his epicurism extends only to boiling hedgohngs in milk a dish ho prefers to all others. The abovo stale ment can bo verified in every particular Leeds Times, Beautiful Sister. John Neal in one of his rhapsodies, sayaThcro is no mis fortune so great for a family of girls, as to be all beautiful, and all unmarried about tho same time. They are Hiiro to wane. perish, die of loveliness and ill-humour. If one hnif of them wero as ugly as the devil ah other quarter just passable, and tho re mainderall unlike each other, with only one beauty, tho whole might got married at last. So, ladies, depend upon it if there arc many of you that nro maringeable. or no!, my advice lo you ee plainly this, draw lots fairly and honorably, and blow up alt your faces with powder, except one. But if thai bu too terrible tnko thu small pox. It is your only chance. In a few years too, you will be, assuredly, the tnoro agree able of the two ; you will have mind, in the wintry hour, when the personal beauty ol woman is like tho shadow that hath gone something that nobody will take the trouble to run after even in thought, The following is a description of Champ ion's infernal machine. It was in the shape of a child's commode or chest drawers, about 7 or 8 inches wide, and 4 or 5 inches deep. Instead of thrco drawers, it had three compartments, which extended the wholo length of tho commode. In ihe first compartment were places for seven small pistol barrels, to bo ranged horizontally, the second was calculated to hold six barrels in a direction inclining to tho left. The following is the manner in which the machine was to be discharged. A battery to be attached, would by moans of a string, ignite ail the barrels, beginning with the first rank, and then in succession passing to tho two others by a train of gun powder, which was so calculated, that all the barrels should not gooff at once, but one after the other, so that those inclining to the right and left might have a wider range, and thus strike the victim should he escapo from the horizontal range. This explanation is said to havo been given by Champion himself, who afterwards stated the manner in which ho had proposed to employ the machine. He was to obtain a hand-cart, and fill it with furniture, as if he was removing from his lodgings. The ma chine was to bo placed at tho height of five or six feet, and coneooloJ by u mattrass. A porter, hired at chance, was to draw the hnnd cart on tho road to Nouilly, near the pot where the King would pass in hia car riage, and ut, the proper moment, Chamq ion was to pull tho string nnd fire the ma chine Champion has already been imprison ed for three or four months, fur being en1 gaged in the riots at tho aime of the Minis tors of Charles X. His mistress, has been arrested, and is an close cofincmcnt. It is said that she had frequently declared, when talking of Champion, that if she wished to bo revenged on him, she could toll many things lo his disadvantage. A fencing mas tor living in the Ruode Versailles, was ar rested yesterday. The police are actively engaged in prosecuting fui her inquiries." Takc.v at ins wonn. The New..York Sun lias Ihe following account of cool con- nuct on the part of a robber in that city : "oomc days since Dr. r . 1 , Ferris, ol Dunne st. advertised in our paper a re ward of 420, "and no nustions asked," for the return of a couple of miniatures stolen from his office. I he "advertise" as Power calls it, had ihe effect of producing him a visiter in the person ol a very genteel look, ing young fellow, who entered hia office, Sun in hand, and inquired "Is Doctor Fer ris in?" Cerluinly sir," replied the Doctor "Is this your advertisement, sir ?" "ll is;" was tho ready reply. "These, sir, aro the "pictures," resumed the genteel stranger, taking the miniatures from his right hand breeches pocket; "and these are the thing with which I picked them," exhibiting a bunch of skeleton keys, which ho leisurely drew from tho opposite pocket. "Well" said the Doctor, "I suppose you want the promised reward ?" "Your honor is plndg cd for it, sir," complacently replied the vis itor," and no questions asked." The doctor handed over the twenty, which the fellow Docketed with the utmost nonchalance, and bidding tho Doctor, "good day," made his exit with a bow and a smile of the utmost sell complacency. Speech Theatrical. In one of tho little towns ol Pennsylvania, a dramotie corps delighted tho honest Dutch farmers was theatrical representations. The principle actor of the company an eccentric dog, previous to the night of his benefit, made Ins bow to tho audience, and announced tho affair in tho following manner : "Li dies and genlhimen, Wednesday next, I shall appear before you for a benefit. On that solemn and interesting occasion I will appear in that grand impersonation of our poel, rendered so difficult by I ho various workings of passions, which requires the greatest flexibility of the faciul musculs, and cons.dereu tho most terrific and ardu. ous character in the profession, Richard tne ruroe." A Geutle Hint. A naiiva of the Emcr aid lalo lately went to consult the printer oi a newspaper in a neighboring county, respecting hia runaway apprentice. The printer proposed to advertise him in tho usual form, with a suitable reward ; this did not meet Patrick's idea s "Ho did not wish to advor tise him, only jist to givo him a hint." After various atompla at framing a euitablo notico, tho following was suggested by himself, as all-sufficient viz "Patrio Plaghorty would inform his apprentice, Timothy Daughterly, that ho does not wish to oxposc him, but givo him tho hint lo return to his roaster, and serve out his indenture, like u good boy, or he will be advertised in the newspapers. He is only 18 years of ago, though ho thinks he U SI. From Tail's Edinburgh Magazine. LETTER TO THE DEAF, nv HAnniKT maiitineau. My Deaii Companions : The deafness under which I havo now for some years past suffered, has become, from being an almost intolerable grievance, much less of one to myself and my frionds, than such a deprivation usually is. that I have often of late lunged to com municate with my fellow sufferers, in the hope of benefiting by my experience, some to whom the diciplino is newer than to myself I have for some time done what I could in private conversation ; but it never oc curred lo me lo print what I had to say, till it was lately not only suggested to me, but urged upon me as a duty. I adopt t Ii 13 method ns the only means of reaching yduall; and I am writing with the freedom which I should tuc in a private letter to each of you. It does not matter what may bo thought of any thing 1 now say, or of my saying it in this manner, by those who do not belong to our fraternity. I write merely for those who arc deeply con cerncd in the subject of my letter. The time may come when I shall tell tho pub lic some ol our sccrcls, tor other purposes than those which are now before me. At present I address only you; and as there is no need for us to tell our secrets to one another, there may be little here to interest any but ourselves. I am afraid I have nothing to offer to thoso of you who havo been deaf from early childhood. Your case is very different from mine, as I have reason to know from my intimacy with a friend who became deaf at live years old. Before I was so myself, I had so prodigious a respect for this lady, ( which she well de serves,) that if she could" havo heard the lightest whisper in which a timid girl ever spoke, I should not have dared to address her. Circumstances directed her atten tion towards me, and she began a corres pondence, by letter, which Haltered me, and gave mo courage to converse with her when we mot, and our acquaintance grew into an intimacy which enabled mo at last to tako a very bold step; to send her a sen net in allusion to our common infirmity; my deafness being then now, and the up permost thing in my mind day and night. 1 was surprised and mortihed at her not seeming lo enter into what I had no doubt in tho world must touch her very nearly ; but I soon understood tho rnnson. Whan im came to compare our experiences, we were amused to find how differently we felt, and had always felt, nbout our priva tion. Neither of ua, I believe, much en vies the other, though neither of us pre tend to strike 'he balnnce of evil. She has suffered the most privation, and I the most pain. Nothing can be more different than the two cases necessarily are. Nine-lent lis of my miseries aroso from fa'-so shame; and instead of that false shame, the early deaf entertain themselves with a sort of pride of singularity, and usually contrive to make their account of tins, as ol other infirmi ties, by ubiaining privileges and indigen cies, for which they earn much moro than for advantages which they have never known and cannot appreciate. Mv friend and I have principles, major nnd minor, on which our methods of managing our inhr mity arc founded; but some of tho minor principles, nnd all the methods, are as dif ferent as mighl be expected from the di verity of the experience which has given rise to them. Nothing can be better for her than her own management, and, of courso, I think the same of my own for mysclt, or I should change it. Hetoro I dismiss this lady, I must mention that I am acquainted with several deaf ladies; so lhat no one but herself and our two fami lies can know whom I havo been referring to. I nm afraid somo of you will be rather surprised at the mention of plans, and methods, and management, for, alas! we aro but lo apt to shrink from regularly ta king in hand our own case. We aro lefi lo our own weakness in this respect. We can havo but little help and wo usually have none, but much Inndernncc, I do not mean by this, to find nny fault with our neighbors. I have met with too much sympathy, (as far as sympathy is possible, with loo much care, and generosity, nnd tenderness, lo have the least inchuntiun to complain of any body connected with me I only mean that this very tenderness is hurtful to us, in as far as it encourages us to evado our enemy, instead of grappling with it; to forget our infirmity from hour to hour, if wo can, and lo got over the present occasion somehow, without think ing of tho next. This would be considered a strange way of meeting any other kind of evil ; and its consequences in our case aro most deplorable. If wo see that the partially deaf arc often unscrupulous about truth, inquisitive, irntablo, or morose, su plciouo, low-spirited, or ill-mannered, it is owing to this. It is impossible for u to deny that if principles are ever needed, if methods aro ever of usu as supports and guides, it must be in a caso where each of us stands alono in iho midst o temptations and irritations which beset us every hour, and aguinst which no defence of habit has been sot up, and no bond of campanionship can strengthen us. What thoso tcmpta lions and irritations are, wo all know :--the almost impossibility of not saoming to bear when we do not, tho persuasion lhat people are taking advantage of us in what ihoy say, that ihcy aro discussing us, or laughing at us, that Ihoy do not care for us as long as ihey are morry, that tho friend who takes thu pains to talk to us mighl make us loss conspicuous it he would, tho vehement desiro that wight bo let alone, and tho sense of noglcct if too long let alono; all these, absurd and wickod fancies as ihoy aro seen lo be when fairly sut down, have beset us all in our timo; havo they not ? For my own part, though I am ncvor troubled with them now, I havo o vivid a remembrance of thorn all, that I believe a thousand.ycars would not weaken: tho impression. Surely that degree of suf faring which lashes us into a temporary misanthropy when our neighbors aro hap piest, which makes us fly to our chambers, and lock ourselves in, to hide the burning tears which spring at tho mirth of those we love best, which seduces us into false hood or thanklcssncss to God and man, is enough to justify and require the most careful fixing of principles, and framing of methods. We might as well let our hearts and minds our happiness tako their chance without discipline in all cases what ever, as neglect our own discipline in this. The first thing to bo done is to fit upon our principle. This is easy enough. To give the least possible pain to others is the right principle; how to apply it require" more consideration. Lotmejiist observe lhat wo are more inexcusable in forsaking our principle here than in nny other cae, and than the generality of people are in the generality of cases. Principles arc usually forsaken from being forgotten, Irom tho occasion for them not being per ceived. We have no such excuse while beginning to act upon our piinciplo. We cannot forget, we cannot fail to perceive the occasion, for five minutes together, that wo spend in society. By the time lhat we become sufficiently at case to be careless, habit may, if wo chooso, have grown up to support our principle, and we may be safe. Our principle requires lhat wo should boldly review our case, and calmly deter mine for ourselves what wo will give up, and what struggle to retain. It is a mise rable thing lo get on without a plan from day to day, nervously watching whether our infirmity lessens or increases, or choos ing to take lor granted that we snail be rid of it; or hopelessly and indolently giving up every tiling but a few selfish gratifica tions, or weakly refusing to resign what we can no longer enjoy. We must ascer tain the probability lor tho future, if we can find physicians humane enough to tell us the truth : and where it cannot be as certained, we must not delay making pro vision for the present. The greatest difli cully here arises from the mistaken kind ness of friends The physician had rather not say, asinine said to me, "I consider yours a bad case." Tho parent entreats to bo qnestioncd about any thing that pa--scs; brothers and sistcres wish thai mtu-ic should be kept up; and, what is rcmarka ble, every body has a vast djal of advice to ivo, if tho subject be fairly mentioned; though every body helps, bv false lender ness, to make the subject too sacred an one to be touched upon- Wo sufferers are Ihe persons to put an end to all this delusion and mismanagement. Advice tnut go for nothing with us in a case whore nobody is qualified to advise. We must crosa-qnes-non our physician, and hold him to 'a till ho has told us all. Wo most destroy the sacrcdness of the subject by speaking of it ourselves, not perpetually nnd sentimen. tally, but, whon occasion arises, boldly, cheerfully, and as a plain matter of fact. When every body about us gets to treat ii as a matter of lact, our daily difficulties are almost gone : and when we have to do with strangers, tho simple, cheerful do duration, "I nm very deaf," removes al most every trouble. Whether I hero was ever as much reluctance lo acknowledge defective sight as there is now defective hearing, whether tho mention of specta tacles was ever as hateful as that of a trumpet is now, I do not know ; but I va full as much grieved as amused lately at what was said to mo in a shop where I went lo try a new kind of trumpet ; "I as sure you. Ma'am," said the shopkeeper, "I dread loo see a deaf person come into my shop. They all expect mo to find some httlo thing that they may put into their cars, that will make them hear every thing, without any body finding out what" is the matter with them." Well, what must bo given up, and what may bo struggled for? The first thing which we are disposed to give up is the very last which we ought to relinquish society. How many good roa. sons wo are apt lo see, nre wo not? why we should not dine out ; why il is ab surd to go into an evening party; why we ought to be allowed to remain quiet up stairs while visiters are below! This will not do. Social communication must be kept up through all its pains, for the sake of our friends as well as fur our own. Ii can never bo for tho interest of our friends lhat we should grow selfish, or absorbed in what does not concern our day and genera t ion, or nervous dependant, anil helpless in common nffairs. Tho less able we be come to pick op tidings of man and circum stanco, the more diligently we must go in Beach of tho information. The moro our sympathies aro in danger of contraction, the more must wo put ourselves in the way of being interested by what is hap pening nil about us. Society is the very last thing to be given up; but it must be sought (and I say with sympathy for those of you io whom the effort is new) under u bondage of self denial, which annihilates for a lime almost all tho pleasure. What evor may be our futc, whether wu may bo 6ol down ut thu cud of a half circle, whero nobody comes to address us, or whether we may bo placed besida n lady who cannot speak abovo her breath, or n gentleman who shouts till every body turn to sco what is tho matter ; whether one well-meaning friend says across tho room in our behalf, "do tell thaljoko over again to ," and all look to tco how wo laugh when they havo done; or nnothor kind person says, "how I wish you could hear that song," or "thut harp in thu nexl room," or "thoso 6wect nightingales," il wo happen to bo out of doors, whother any or all iheso doings and sayings befall us, wo must bravoly go on taking our place in society. Taking our placo, I nay. What is our placo? It is difficult to docido. Certain ly, nol thai of chief talker any moro than that of chiof listener. Wo must moke up 'our minds for a lime to hold tho pi oco that! wo mny chanco to be put into, to depe on tho tact and kindness of those near This is not verv pleasant; but if wo c"" not submit to "it fur a while, we can"" boast much of our humility, nor of our Pa tience. We must submit to be usually in significant, and sometimes ridiculous. Do nol bo dismayed, dear companions. This necessity will not laat long, and it is well worth while undergoing it. Those who havo strength of mind lo seek society un der this humiliation, and to keep their tempers through it, cannot long remain in significant there. They must rise to their proper place, if they do but abstain from pressing beyond it." It is astonishing how every thing brightens sooner or later. Tho nightingales and tho harp will bo still out of the question, but they will bo given up almost without pain, because it is o settled matter to every body present that they art out of ihe question. Friends will havo discovered that jokes are not the things to bo repealed; and that which ia repeoted will be taken as coining in duo courso, and will at length consist of all that is really worth hearing of what has been said. Other people may laugh without occasion ing a nervous distortion in your counte nance ; and it is quite certain that if your temper haa stood your trial, you will never pass an evening without meeting with somo attention which will touch, some frank kindness which will elevate your feelings, and send you homo wiser and happier thou you came forth. This can only be, however, if you havo stood your trial well, if you bring an open temper and an open countenance. It is matter of wonder that wo aro addressed so much as we aro: and if, in addition to the difficulty of making us hear, we offer the disagreeablcncss of (not a constrained, that will' be pitied, but) a frowning coun tenance, we may betake ourselves to tho books of prints on the table, but may as well give up all hope of conversation. As u general rule, nothing can be worse than for people to think at all about their coun tenances ; but in our case it is worth whilo for a time, and to a certain extent. I was kindly told, a few years ago, that many people wi-hed to converse with me, but that I looked as if I had rather nol be spo ken to. Well I might; for t then discov ered that in trying to check one bad habit, I had fallen into another. I had a trick of sighing, to cover which I used lo twist my fingers almost out of joint, fand so do you, I dare say.) and the pain of this process very naturally made me frown. My friend's tint put mo on my guard. Instead of twisting my fingers, I recalled my vow of patience, and this made mo smile: and tho world has been a different place to mn since. Some such little rule as turning every sigh into n smile will help you over a mullitudo of difficulties nnd save you, at length, the trouble of thinking about cither smiling or sighing. It haa always been tny rule never to ask what is going forward; and the conso quence has well compensated all I had to go through from the reproaches of kind menus, who were very anxious that 1 -hould trouble them in that way. Our principle plainly forbids the practice; and nothing can therefore justify it. There is at first no temptation, for we hod then rather miss the sayings of the wise men of Greece, than obtain them by such means; but the practice once begun, there is no telling where it will stop. Have wo not ,-een it sickens me to think of it restless, inquisitive, deaf people, who will havo every insignificant thing repeated to them, to their own incessant disappointment, and the suffering of every body about them, whom they make, by their appeals, almost as ridiculous as themselves? I never could tolerate ihe idea of any approach to tha condition of ouo of these. I felt, beside.', that it was impossible for me lo judge of what mighl fairly bo asked for, ond whot had better be let pass. I therefore obsti natoly adhered to my rule; and I believe that no one whom I have met in any socie ty (and I have seen a great deal) has been euubled to carry away more that is valua ble, or lo eiijny it more thoroughly than myself. I was sure that I might trust to i he kindness of my neighbours, if I was but careful not to vex and weary it; and my confidence has been fully justified. The duly extends to not looking as if you wanted to be amused, Your friends can have httlo satisfaction in your presence, if ihoy believe lhat when you aro not conver. sing you aro no longer amused. "I won der every day," said a young friend to me, when I was slaying in a largo well filled country house, "what you do with your self during our long dinners, when no ono of us talks with you. because we have talk, ed so much more comfortably on the lawn nil the morning. I cannot think how you help going to sleep." "I watch how you help the soup," was my inconsiderate re ply I was not nwaro how inconsiderate, i ill I sow how she blushed every day after mi taking up tho Im'lo. I mentioned tha soup only as a speoimen of my occupations during dinner. There were also the sun set lights and shadows on the lawn to be watched, and tho never coasing play ofhu man countenances, our grand resource when we havo once gained oaio enough la enjoy I hem at leisure. Thero wero graco I'ul and light hearted girls, and (here was an originality of act ion in tho wholo family, which amused me from morning till night. The very apparatus of the table, and tha various dexterities of tho servants, are matters worth observing whon wo have noihingelso in do. I ncvor yet found a dinner too long, whether or not my next neighbor mighl bo disposed for a tetea-leto never, I mean, since the timo when every social occupation was to mo full of weari ness and constraint. Another rulu which I would recommend is always to wail to bo addressed, except in our own houses, whero tho exception must bo made with our guests. Some, I know, adopt a contrary rule, lor this reason, that if we ask a question lo which we can anticipate the answer, tho awkwardness of