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illitrtuiurr. “ AT THE' LAST.” This calmly beautiful poetry appeared, origin- ally. in the ‘t Independent,” written upon the passage, “ Man goeth forth unto his work, and to his labor, until the evening:” The stream is calmest when it nears the tide. And flowers are sweetest at the eventide, And birds most musical at close of day, And saints divest when they pas-5 away.. Morning is lovely, but a holier charm Lies folded close in Evening’s robe of balm; Alld weary man must ever love her best, For morning calls to toil, but night to rest. Sne comes from heaven, and on her wings doth bear A holy fragrance, like the breath of prayer; Footsteps of angels followed in her trace, To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace. All things are hushed before her, as she throws O'er earth and sky her mantle of repose; There is a calm, a beauty, and a power 'l‘hzit Morning knows not, in the evening hour. 9' Until the evening” we must weep and tail, Plow life’s stern furrow, dig the weedy soil, , Tread with_sad feet our rough and thorny way, And bear the heat and burden of the day. Oh! when our sun ts setting may we glide, Like Summer evening, dawn the golden tide; And leave behind us as we pass away, Sweet, starry twilight round our sleeping clay. .71.! R Y .77501{RIS; 0R Loaves from a Gentleman’s Diary. AMONG the aristocratic, enlighten-l ed and wealtly circles ( f l'hiladclâ€" phia in the year 1811, and in the sunshine of fashionable life, sported the airy form of Charlotte Monroe ‘.â€".a young lady as remarkable for the vivacity of herdisposition as the beauty of her person. Upon both the piano and harp she was quite . proficient;â€"â€"her voice was admirable and she sung with much tasteâ€"she particularly excelled in the popular melodies of Moore, the memory of whose visit to our city was a recent matter then, and the society in which he had mingled still felt the influence of his intelligmce and accomplish- ments. In tnc hill room, too, she was as light upon her feet (almost) as the Zephyr-like Taglioni of the present day. Among the gallants of that time mtwenty-six years agoâ€"John Allen, a handsome man, and a lawyer by profession,played a conspicuous part, lie was very talkâ€"precisely s'x feet and an inch in height from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. In addition to her personal attrac- tions Miss Monroe was the mistress of a clever antitu, which greatly enhanced her charms, and rendered h r a desirable object of attainment to several aspiring suitors. She tlirted and coquettcd with them all for a considerable time, and, finally, disgusted with her caprics, they com- menced gradually, one by one, to desert from the bondage of her too tyrannical beauty, and a dozen or more dwinlled down to the sixth thereof. The contest for victory was then between the remaining iWO, one of which was the aforesaid tall and handsome John Allen; and for more than a month the rival two disputed the field for the fair lady’s fair hand. The brave alone deserve the fair! Mr. Allen, as has already been stated, was a lawyer~~his rival a doctor. The latter, too, was short and stout; and when the two were placed in contact the effect was In» dicrous; and nature, it would seem, in one of her freaks, had formed John Allen and Benjamin Phildrop, and placed them purposely in jux- taposition in this particular instance, for the amusement that the contrast would afford. The former, how- ever, had the satisfaction eventually of being accepted by Miss Monroe â€"and, to make a long matter short, to compress much substance into a small space, it will here be sufficient to state that the “holy church in- corporated two in one;” and that in less than a twelve-month, on a cer- tain day in the pleasant month of October, with all the “pride, pomp and circumstances,” that is usual upon such occasions, Mrs. Allen presented her husband with a sonâ€" another heir to the ills “that flesh is heir to.” Mr. and Mrs. Allen were fashion- able people. Mr. Allen was one of those self-satisfied beings, who, in the abundance of their own conceit, would not exchange situations with any man living. He was industri- ous at his profession, haughty and choice of his company. Mrs. Allen was languishineg elegant in every- thing she said or did. Between them there was an argument of consider- able length in regard to the name of the infant. Mr. Allen wished him called Johnaafter himselfâ€"shut she objected, and, to settle the matter amicably. the unconcious one was named Guy, after his gouty grand- father on the maternal siderby V01. II. N00 146 he had acquired the distinction of a dip AURORA Ann RICHMOND, HILL _ ADvocATE nun ADVERTISER. ALEX. SCOTT, Preprietor. ‘«‘ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than-’Popfular Opinion.” RICHMOND HILL, FRIDAY, :MARCH. 2, 1860, gathered. with the curiosity that the writer naturally became posssessed of, as reason crept in and innocence crawled out. The residence of my parents, or rather our residence, since I shall hereafter speak of myself as one of the Allens, was in a populous part of Philadelphia. “John Allen, At- torney at Law,” in gilt letters, upon a tin plate coated with black, conspi- cuously glared from one of the win- dow-shuttersâ€"at once denoting my father’s vocation and his readiness to accept a fee. Year after year he indefatiguahly pursued his profession, 'and having the luck to succeed in hookwinking the law with a few ex- tremely precarious suits, by the ttme Iwas upon the verg of manhood wealthy citizen, with a handsome wife and four children. What an in England she must have been a 'mere child then, for you returned from there as much as ten year’s ago‘n ' - ' “Trueâ€"rtrue; Iforgot thatâ€"abut to me,” theirs, and were immediately fixed ‘upon, indeed, one of the most beau- tiful countenances I had ever beheld! The curtain rose directly, and, as the play proceeded, I had an oppor- Ltunity to examine more particu- .larly the object of my admiration. iShe was in mourningâ€"at least I ‘ thought so, as she was dressed in .black. The color of her hair was light auburn, and a small t‘inglct on either temple sported beneath the shadow of a neat bombazine bon~ net, of which material her dress was also made. A high forehead, smooth enviable altitude in. the eyes of the world i V t‘ And now is the ttme,” (such were my mother’s words,) for us to live like other people." Accustom- ed to act as his wife directed, for be it known she wore the small-clothes, my father accordingly made arrange- ments for a splendid house, furniture, plate, cqurpage, stables, etc., etc., and we, Mr. and Mrs. Allen, their two sons and two daughters, took possession, gave an enormously ex- pensive entertainment to our friends, and considered ourselves of the first rank in this republican city. So it is. We grow opulent, our wealth makes us giddy, and in many instan- ces it is really laughable to see what trouble we take to render ourselves ridiculous. CHAPTER Inn-THE THEATRE. THE dramatic taste of this coun- try has been on the wane for seve- ral years, with now and then an in- effectual effort to arrest its down- ward course. Nevertheless. the landing of Mr. Kemble and his tal- ented daughter upon our shores, re- ccchd for a while the expiring flame of the Thesptan lamp. My mother had made up her mind to honor the theatre with her pre- sence on this occasion, and ten min- utes before the rising of the curtain we were all seated. Such rustling of silks and adjustment of shawls. My mether happened to be in excel- lent spirits; she was delighted with herself and family; and at the end of the first act sue leaned over to me and whispered her approbation. I coincided with herâ€"as, a matter of course, did my father also when spoken to upon the subject. " Yes,” said he, “ ’tis a pretty tragedyâ€"so farl like it much.” This was in reply to an it'iterrogation from my mother. “Don’t you admire Miss Kemble?” she next asked. “Much,” he replied; “she certain- ly is a charming actress. Mr. Fairfax here dropped in and paid his compliments. lrnade room for him im ncdiately behind my mother, and he engrossed her for the rest of the evening. Mr. Fair- fax was a bachelor of forty-six, still handsome, without a grey hair in his head, and entirely devoted to my mother. He Was one among the many who had sought her virgin hand, and would have been the suc- cessful candidate most probably, had not unlorseen and inevitable circum- stances demanded his presence in England at that identical time. He imbibed no ill will towards my father, however, who was now in posses- sion of the treasure he had himself coveted, for on his return to the United States, eight or nine years after, he became intimate with the family and dined with us once a week regularly. The second and third acts were now over-arthe curtain "was downwâ€" the orchestra playing an overtures, and the audience generally had ac- knowledged the superior histrionic talents of Miss Kemble. Here let me call the reader’s attention to a brief conversationl overheard be-l tween my mother and her ci-devant suitor. “ ’Tis really a handsome girl!" impressively responded the latter to to something the former had remark- ed. "She is indeed handsome." he continued. “I think that I have seen her beforeâ€".the faco seems fa- miliar,” “I am sure,” rejoined my mother 2 “I have never seen a more interests} which name the reader will here-l ing or expressive countenance. Do after please to recognize the author of .these pages. By-thesby, that which is so faithfully recorded in the preceding part of this narrative isl not the result of observations taken at the timeâ€"newbut the crumbs you not recollect where seen her .3” not sure.” “It is very and white as snow, was an index of the intelligence within. A crimson flush was on her checksâ€"stint effect, as I presumed, of the excitement around her. At the side of this young lady was seated a gentleman with an austere look, and, as I then thought, a very repulsive appear- ance. He wore a dark blue coat with bright buttonsâ€"a hat with a brim somewhat wider than ordinary «a buff vestâ€"«and a colored neck- cloth tied close against his throat, with his shirtcollar narrowly turned down. His features, I noticed, were very prominentâ€"his nose like the Duke of VVellington’s, particularly so. As he sat I judged him to be little above the common stature. I here took the Opportunity of ex- cusing myselfupon a trifling pretence and vacated .my seat. stairs I went, and crowded in to where the young lady and stcrnslooking gentle- man were seatedâ€"they were in the second tier of boxes. I had been stationed but a few minutes, when, disturbed by a slight noise in the boxes behind us, the young lady chanced to raise her eyes from the stage and encountered my ardent gazeâ€"it confused herâ€"she hastily turned to the play again, and her whole countenance was suffused with a deep blosh! The person at her side observed the incident and bent upon me a withering scowl. Discon- cortcd, I left my station, and, as the piece was nearly done, I wcnd down again to our box, in order to wait upon my sisters home if they desired to leave the theatre with my parents at the conclusion of the tragedy. They decided to see the aftcrpicce, however, and upl went again dc-a tcrmincd to see more ofthe unknown who had already excited in my bosom a liVely interest. I was disappointed, for she and the gentleman had left the theatre. Night after night I entered the theatre with confident hopesâ€"the Kcmbles were still playingâ€"but the face which I sought, as l anxiously gazed round the boxes, was still ab- srnt. I took not the some interest in the pieces performed asI had done previous to the night she was there; and I had nearly given up the linger- ing hope of seeing her again, when, seated at the representation of “ The Stranger,” (a play translated from the German of Kotzcbuc,) and me. chanicallv looking around the house, her eyes and mine encountered in full gaze ! She Was seated two or three boxes distance to the right of me, and at her side was the gentle- man before notified. She wore no bonnet; her hair was simply parted in the centre, and combed back from her forehead. Her dress was black, and around her neck and shoulders she wore a costly French embroider- ed collar, The look of her com- panion was not so forbidding as when 1 before saw him, though his aspect was still grave and dignified. His hat being off, I had thfl opportunity ofparticularobservation. His dress, too, was quite different from that in which] had first seen him. He wore a fashionably-shaped brown dress- coat with velvet collar, a white vest, black neck-cloth, kid gloves, etc., etc. As the young lady’s eyes met mine, I actually started from my seat at the uneigpectetiness of the discov- ery, so little was I used to the con- trolment of mv feelings. I soon re- covered myself, but not without hav- ing attracted the gaze of several persons seated near me. Abashed at my own gaucheries-sfor in the fashionable world you would on no you have account show yourself possessed of any sensibilityswthe characteristic of “In England perhaps; but I am good breeding bein gre use and hil- osophical indifference.p P l t My eyes followed the direction of l fifteen minutes without averting my eyes from the stage. Presuming that my singularity was by this time forgotten by those who had noticed it, I ventured to cast eyes in the the face certainly does seem familiar direction I wished,1 an’yx'saw that the young lady and the person With her were both deeply abSorbed in the progress of the play. Her interest in the piece was intethe; her gaze was fixed, and thc,.col'01' that before mantled in her cheeks gradually grew fainter as the tale of the Stran- ger to the Baron probeededrâ€"and I could see that the young lady and her c‘ompanion were much relieved when it was finishedand the curtain fell on the conclusion, of the fourth act. Both were evidently agitated. The face of the female becam’e ex. tremer pale, and I felt alarmedilest she should swoon, Her companion, too, it was apparent, apprehended the same; and as I thought they were preparing to leave, I hastily left my seat and stationed myself in the lobby, intending to have a nearer view of my unknown as she passed from the box to the street door. They did not, however, den-art as their movements at first indicated. I walked into the box where they were, and stood a few feet behind them; and remained unnoticed, for neithenfi anced to look around. To- wards t s end of the piece the hand- kerchief of the younger was raised to her eyes, and she appeared to shrink back as if in dread of the con- clusion. The conclusion came though and with the words, "- Never! Never l”â€".â€"pronounced by the Stran- ger at the moment when others of the dramatic personce are endeavor- ing to effect a reconciliation between him and his repentant wifeâ€"sat that moment a slight shriek was uttered by the young lady. . Imagine the consternation. Many eyes were directed towards the box. I rushed forward with others, found that she had fainted, and had been caught in the arms of hcucompanion. The crowd made way for him, and, with strongly depicted agony upon his wrinkled brow and compressed lips, he bore her to the saloon. Her temples were bathed with water-â€" wine was put to her lips, of which she drank a small portion, and soon afterwards revived. “ F-agt-h-e-r i” she faintly articulated, and clasped her arms around the neck of him bending over her. “ Father t" tmechamcally repeat- ed to myselfâ€"e“ is he her father? Yes, it must be so, she called him by that endearing name,” Perceiving that a sense of her situation pained the young lady, l stepped up and presented the parent' with his hat and his daughter’s shawl which I had snatched from the box at the moment of the incident, and, proffered my services to procure a carriage. He thanked me coldly but declined. His own carriage was; in attendance, he said. So it proved for in less than a minute I heard the, carriage of “ Mr. Morris” announc- ed, by a footman in livery, to which this gentleman responded-wand, sup- porting his daughter upon his arm, they both walked out to the carriage the door of which was presently closed with a jar, and I listened to the cluttering of iron-clad hoofs and the rattling of wheels over the stone pavements, as they drove off. At first I was tempted to follow the cart‘iage~-run after it~â€"and by thatl cans ascertain the residence of itsl occupants; but,up0n second thought, Irelinquished the idea and hurried homeâ€"â€"â€"undressed and went to beds.â€" not to close my eyes, however, for that night which had occurred at the theatre haunted my Waking thoughts like a dream, and to sleep was impossible, Why should the representation of, that play make such an impression on the daughter of Mr. Morris? why that shriek? why that absorb- ing interest in the developement cf ' the plot! in what way was it con.~ nectcd with her or her fate? With these and similar thoughts I lay a- wake, restlessly turning on my pil~ low till morning, when l descended iogthe breakfast table in very low spirits. To be Continued. People say that they shall peas, when they w; shell them ; that they [ms/t; corn, when they tut-husk it ; and they dust the furniture, when they zen-dust it, or' take \the dust from it; that they skin a calf, l Abashed at . probable,” said my my own awkwardness, I repeat, andl mother, playfully; “if you saw her. vexed with myself, I when they uizrskin it; and that they scale fishes, when they tm-Scale them. I have heard many men say they were going to weed their gardens, when I thought their sat for at least gardens were weedy enough already. i TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. . SAaBATH . I believers understand, Without any argument, that intended to be observed as a day of rest, being so called, “because that in it He [the Almighty] had rested from all his Work.” Riecre- ation is not rest. but rest is recre- ation; a “ making over again,” li- terally; it renews, gives fresh life and vigor, and readiness for work again. Any man knows, who has tried it, that going to the country; early in the morning, and roaming about through the woods, in fishing or hunting, or any other form of amusement, during the day, and then returning to the city by horse, or'foot, or boat, or carriage, or rail, lcaVes the body tired, weary, worn out, almost exhausted, quite as much if not more so, than if the ordin- ary evocations had been followed. Let a man take his station atlany depot or ferry, on landing at the close of any holiday, and inspect the countenances of those returning, and there will be presented, in most cases, an expression of sad- ness and weariness, which is al- most pitiful, to say nothing of the riotous and drunken, the outlaws, and the brawlers. To such, the Sabbath has been no day of rest, of renewal; it finds them quite as weary as the previous Saturday evening found them, and they wake up on Monday morning as unrested, as unrefreshed, as unre- newed, as on any other day. of the week, and wearily enough .do they go to work, instead of having that eager alacrity for another week’s toil, which a whole day of indoor quiet, bodily and .mental, would have secured for' them. The no- tion, therefore. that an excursion to the country on Sundays, with the elicitement of its novelties, has any wholesome effect on mind, or body, or heart, anything invigorat- ing, renewing, life-giving, is a phy- sical and physiological absurdity, the proof ofit being any man’s own observation and experience. There is no rest in locomotion. There is'no rest in mental excitement, and both locomotion. and mental excitement are inseparable from those Sunday recreations for the la- boring poor, for which some of the penny press, and otherless credit- able papers are contending. The actual practical effect of these Sun- day excursions to the country are : 1st. To induce the poor laborer to squander his money for the benefit. of grog-sellers and Sabbath-break- ers, instead of spending it for the substantial comfort of his wife and children ; for if he takes them along the savings of the whole week are consumed. 2d.»To rob him of the only day which he can call his own, and of the enjoyment he might do- rive in quiet communion with his fa- mily. 3rd. To deprive him of the opportunity for the recuperation which is absolutely essential for the healthful, vigorous and faithful dis charge Of the duties and labors of the new week. LANGUAGE WITHOUT OATHS.â€"â€"-' The Indians cannot swear in their ‘ vernacular. This is a s’ngular and interesting fact. language furnish no oaths? Are the Indians so prone to truth, so averse to falsehood, that the invention of oaths was impossible? Probably this was the case until they became so corrupt by our example. Their simple promises must have been to them as sacred and inviolable as the most solemn adjurations are to us. Never restoring to serious ap- peals to Heaven or the Great Spi- rit for the confirmation of their statements, profane oaths do not fol- low of course. ' HARDNESS or CHARACTER.â€" Hardncss is a want of minute atâ€" tention to the feelings of others; it does not proceed from malignity or a carelessness of inflicting pain, but from a want of delicate percep- tion of those little things by which pleasure is conferred or pain ex- ci‘ed, A hard person thinks he has done enough if he does not 5 ,eak ill of your relation, your childish, or your country; and then, with tl’ie’greatest good humor and vol- ability] and With a total inatten- tion to your individual state and position, gallops over a thousand fine feelings and leaves in every step the mark of his hoof upon your hoaryâ€"Sidney Sprig/g, " ' There are great many beams in the eyes of women, but to their admirers they are all sunbeams. l RECREATIQNS.:7-Bl.blc -. ‘village of 'W try, and ,was known all round by the name of Judge L He kept a store and saw mill, and was ’always sure to have the host of a bargain on his side, by which means he had gained an ample competency, and some’did not he- sitate to call him the ‘ biggest rascal in the world.’ He Was very con- ceited withal, and used to delight in bragging of his business capacily when any one was near to. listen. One rainy day, as quite a number was seated round the stove in the store, he began as usual to tell of his great bargains, and finally wound up with, ‘ Nobody ever cheated me, her they cant,neithcr,’ ‘Judge,’ said an old man of the company, tl’ve cheated you more’n you ever did me.’ ‘ How so '3’ said the Judge. ‘If you’ll promise you won’th to law about it, nor do nothin, I’ll tell, or else I won’t; you are too much ofa law character for me.’ ‘ Let's hear! let’s hear !’ cried halfa dozen voices at once. ‘We‘ll hear you out in itâ€"go on !’ ‘ I’ll promise,’ said the Judge, ‘ and treat in the bar- gain, if you have.’ ‘ Well, do you remember that wagon you robbed me out of’!’ ‘I never robbed you out of any wagon,’ exclaimed the Judge, ‘1 only got my own l’ ‘ Well, I made up my mind to have it back, and ’ ‘But you never did !’ cried the Judge. ‘ Yes I did, and interest, too !’ ‘How l’ thun- dered the now enraged Judge. ‘ Well, you see, Judge, 1 sold you, one day, a very nice pine log, and bargained with you for a lot more. Well, that log I stole off your pile, down by your mill, the nightbefore, and next day I sold it to you. That night I drew it back home, and sold it to you next day. and so I kept on until you bought your own log of me twenty-seven times l’ ‘ That’s a liel’ cried the mad Judge. running to his book and examining his leg ac- counts ; ‘ you nevcrsold me twenty: seven lcgs of the some measure- ment.’ ‘I know it.’ said the vendor in logs. ‘By drawing it back and forth the end were off; and. as it wore, I kept cutting the end off un- til it was only ten feet lottgwjust fourteen feet shorter than it was the first time you bought it ; and when it got so short, I drew it home and worked it up into shingles, and the next week you bought the shingles, and then I concluded I had got my wagon backâ€"-and in my pocket- book.’ The exclamation of the Judge was drowned in the shoots of the bystanders, and the logedrawer found the door without waiting for the promised treat. And to see a madman. you have only to ask the Judge if he was ever shaved. QUENCHING Traumaâ€"Nearly a hundred years ago Dr. Lind sug- gested to Captain Kennedy that thirst might be quenched at sea by dipping the clothing in salt water, and putting it on without wringing. SubSequently the captain on being cast away, had an opportunity of making the experiment. With great difficulty he succeeded in per- Wl‘ly does their ’suadinga part of his men to follow his example and they all subsided ; while the four who refused, and drank salt water, became delirious and died, In addition to putting on the clothes while wet. night and morning, they may be Wet While on two or three times during the day. Captain K. goes on to say, “after these operations, we uniformly found that the violent drought went off and the parched tongue was cured in a very few minutes“ after bathing and» washing our clothes while we found ourselves as much refreshed as if we had received some actual nourishment.” The bare possibility of the truth of the statement makes it a humanity for any paper to give it a wide publicity, since there are not many readers in many hundred, who may go to sea and be ship- wrecked. We personally know that wading in water quenches thirst, and very few readers can remem her being thirsty while bathing at a sea shore, or while swimming in our rivers. When the fearful horrors of dying of thirst are remembered, and the more fearful madness which is the certain result of drinking sea water to ally thirst, it is certainly well to encourage individual experi- ment in this direction. and solicit an anthea'irmsd report of the rams.- The phrase “down in the mouth,” is said to have been originated by Jonah about the tune the whale swallowed him, W\r\_/\’\/W ._. Whole N0, 6%. Tue. Juneau’s SAW Loosâ€"Tin the lived a man who the Sabbath was had once been Judge of the coun- MONEY AND A Goon NAME.â€" Money is the object of universal so-~ lieitude._ Ii is, with tooimahy, an. object of perfect idolatry. Andycti how useless a” thing money is, no: matter how abundantfiiwhen‘ we: take it in the abstract,“ and consider. it independently of its’ character as a pepular medium of exchangel. How poor was he who, sitting as? tride a lump of gold worth thous-_ ands and thOusands ofdollars, found himself: without food, and in a vi-' cinity of up one with sufficient to- sell him am‘outhful! What was his wealth then’l pr much more for-: innate was he who had bread to eat, albeit sans gold to contemplate, or. excite the envy of others 'l ‘ What makes the elephant so powerful 1’. says Douglas Jerrold. ‘His trunk. and tasks. What makes the lion dangerous? His teetk and claws. And wh‘at task; and teeth, are to the lower creatures, moneyfis to} man.” This is true, under ordinary social conditions. A man With abundant means is too often em-‘_ powered by those means with a potentiality for mischief inconceiv- ably aggressive; and a man with: out such resources is just as often, helpless and neglected? But it. is, not always so. A good name has, its value. A good reputation. will, often effect as much in position as affluence. It is also much more endurable. Riches may ‘.‘ take unto itself‘wings and fly away.” as it frequently does ; but a good name is permanent. It is a solid invest- ment which no misfortune can do: stroy. It only becomes the more valuable when its possessor is left with it, alone, as' his property. While money, therefore, is some- thing dcsirable, integrity is beyond. price and beyond purchase. PnErr-eN510x_.â€"-Many persons ob: tain a reputation and influence by. mere pretenSion. They pretend to, kuQW’QVerything,‘ and everybody. By obtaininga smattering of almost every subject, an impression of thorough knowledge is easily given, especially if good conversational powers can be brought into, use. But this outer covering can be easily seen through by men of real knowledge and genius, It is but little ,leasure they enjoy after all; for Wildle assuming ab. air. of supes riority, and feeling” the pleasure of power, they must feel at the same. time the meanness of the deception,” and the contempt which men of" real character feel towards them, ... ..., Goon Amocoâ€"Some one says, the more quietly and peaceany we all get on, the bet.ter--éthe better for ourselves, the better for our neigh- bors. In'nine eases out-of ten the wisest policy is, if a man cheats. you, quit dealing with him; if he is abusive, quit his company; if he slanders you, taue care to’live so. that nobody will believe him; no. matter who he is, or how he miss uses you, the wisest way is gener-. ally to let him alone; for there is, nothing better than tliiscool, calm, quiet way of dealing with. the. wrongs we meet with, -N.__.-â€"J_~â€"â€"’ A good hearted fellow may willingly» lend a crutch to halting humanity, and yet take delight in tripping up the stilts of’ pretension. ‘ The Times states that Government the. tends to reduce the duty on French wines, from 53. 9d. to 35. per gallon. 'I‘wcttty-tive thDUSand miles of rope, every month, were at one ttme used in the United States for ladies’ skirts, and fifteen hundred miles are used in the same space, of time for clothes lines. A VERY DRY Npasr;.~â€"â€"'I‘he English papers state that the nurse of an opulent family in London, who. rendered her ac-t count annualar for little nursery etecteras, among other things, put down the modest sum of $1,750 for hrandy to spyne the ehildren with. ' A gallant was lately sitting beside his. beloved, and being unable to think of any. thing else to say, asked her why she was like a tailor! “I don’t know,” said she with poutiog lip, “unless it is because I’m sitting beside a goose.” The Emperor Napo'eon’s letter to the Pope is now cried about the streets in every town and Village in France, and sold fora halfpenny. " ‘ The telegraph between the Channel Is: lands and France, making a third line of telegraphic communication to that country, has been successfully laid, ' An auctioneer having a horse to sell which could not be induced to crossa bridge that lay in the way of his master’s country residence, advertised him as ‘ to be sold for no fault but that his owner was desirous of going out of the city.’ Archdeacon Fisher, having preached an old sermon once, when he was not aware that Constable had heard it before, asked him how he liked it. ‘Very well in- deed, Fisher,’ replied Constable. I al- ways did like that sermon.’ L A HOPELnss INVALID.â€"â€"‘ I shan’t be with you a great while, Jang,’ said Metler, ‘I shan’t stay here a great while}. ‘0, Mr. Metler, how pan you talk so,l said Mrs. Metler, with a lugubrious ex: pression of face, I ‘ Because,’ continued he, ‘I feel as it I was mast are and that l was passing away h 'e a c ouicl before the rid ng s n.’ §Mn Metler verified his prophecy the txt week by running away with a sym- pathizing sister. v "