THE FIRST GRENADIER OF FRANCE. CHAPTER I.-THE POOR BLIND MAN. sabre was in the evening devoted to writing works of erudition and talent. In the year 1781, Tour d'Auvergne was admitted as a volunteer into the army of Spain, that besieged Most of his companions, without reflection, responded "Who dares prevent me?" said the other, at the same moment suiting the action to the word by severing the cord. The old blind man, feeling himself no longer guided by his faithful dog, uttered lamentable cries, and the poor animal, regretting the liberty that had been given him in spite of himself, licked mournfully the hand of his afflicted master. On the morning of the 15th of May, in the year The "scene of action" having been reached, the parties took up their respective positions. The attack commenced, and amid the general din a stout battle was fought. Shrill were the pigmy words of command to advance to the charge or retreat given by the youthful leaders, who endeavored in vain to deepen their voices as though to impart solemnity to the mimic scene, and occasionally might be heard the rallying cry after a partial reverse; so that the battle was energetically persevered in, until at length the contending forces, finding themselves exhausted by the severity of the engagement, came to a truce, and sat down upon the cool refreshing grass (the field of battle) for momentary repose. After a slight cessation of hostilities, one of the most spirited of the army of "young France," who had scarcely recovered his breath (and whose chubby face was besmeared with paint, which the heat had caused to run further than was anticipated), evinced a seeming inclination to resume the combat ere the rays of the declining sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. The hours of sweet freedom and recreation caused the day to appear short to him, and at length he broke silence, exclaiming, "What shall we play at now?” "It's tedious," said another, "to be always playing at the same game." "Hold!" observed a third, “look yonder at that old blind man approaching towards us; look at his spaniel !" "Is he not ugly!" cried the children. At this moment the old man, who was within a few paces of them, approached close to the juvenile camp, and addressing the youngsters in a supplicating tone, said "Now, repair your fault, and give this old man the money you have in your purse; I hear some crowns chinking in your pocket." contents of his purse to his bold companion, who, tone, "Here, my good man, this will purchase you bread for some time to come. My friend is willing through this means to atone for his fault by doing you good." The venerable recipient of this unexpected donation had not retired many paces, when the children surrounded their generous comrade. "But," said they, "Maurice did not give half the same moment." Some pieces of money which had dropped from the pocket of Maurice during the scuffle proved he was unwilling to give up all, and hence a general enthusiasm was felt for the young hero of the day. "La Tour d'Auvergne!" exclaimed all in one But Tour d'Auvergne declined to accept the CHAPTER II.-THE HERO. O life had ever been turned to better account N° than that of Tour d'Auvergne, the child refused to accept of either rank or recompense, although he contributed materially towards the success of the enterprise. He signalized himself by acts of great bravery; nevertheless, he only sought an inward satisfaction, rather than the praise of his superiors or the applause of the crowd. On another occasion, being surprised and taken prisoner by the English, the officer wanted to deprive him of his cockade; but Tour d'Auvergne, indignantly snatching it from his cap, attached it to the point of his sword, exclaiming: "There it is! tell him to come and take it!" At the period of the French revolution, Tour d'Auvergne was made a captain, his modesty and simplicity dictating the refusal of a colonelcy which was offered him; and it was at the head of his company, afterwards distinguished as "The Infernal Column," that he led the assault, and on several occasions routed the battalions of the enemy. At length, old and fatigued, he quitted the army and returned to Paris, where he learnt that the son of his friend was about to depart for the war as a conscript. moment's hesitation, engaged himself as a substiTour d'Auvergne, however, without a tute, and enrolling himself once more as a volunteer, hastened, with knapsack on his back, to rejoin as a private that army in which he had fought as a superior officer. France was at that time at war with Austria, and Tour d'Auvergne, now fifty years of age, found the opportunity of again displaying his energy and boldrous of seizing upon a windmill, in which had been ness. A party of Hungarian grenadiers were desiplaced a store of arms and a quantity of gunpowder; but so sharp and deadly was the fire kept up from within, that the Hungarians were compelled to retire, with much loss. At length, after many hours of heroic defence, the besieged garrison in the mill demanded permission to capitulate; a window opened, and a soldier presented himself. It was Tour d'Auvergne. "We desire," said he, addressing the enemy," to evacuate our quarters with all the honors of war; with arms and baggage, drums beating, and colors flying." These conditions were acceded to by the Austrian chief, who accordingly drew up his men in two lines, to receive the devoted garrison of the windmill. Tour d'Auvergne then slowly descended the steps of the mill, with musket shouldered, and passing between the double ranks of the enemy's bayonets, presented himself before the Austrian officer. "Well!" observed the commander, "where, then, is the garrison?" 66 "Here it is!" replied Tour d'Auvergne, raising his hand, à la militaire, to his cap. "But where is it, then?" again asked the officer. "Here!" repeated Tour d'Auvergne. "What! you alone?" observed the Austrian. "I alone was in the windmill," rejoined the veteran; "I was the only garrison!” It was then that Napoleon, admiring the courage of the soldier, and not knowing how to recompense rial dinner of the most solemn and aristocratic des- The guests dispersed, the lover entreated in him worthily for his gallant deeds, conferred on cription, he bounded from his seat, threw himself vain. "Never," said the English girl, "never wil Tour d'Auvergne the title of "First Grenadier of upon the valet, and began administering to him a I take a sedentary husband-a husband who is France;" sending him at the same time a sabre of most vigorous chastisement. In vain did the un- afraid of a little inconvenience or of a few battles; honor in compliment of his services. The brave fortunate valet struggle to escape-in vain did he a husband who on the very day of our contract, grenadier, desiring still further to show his appre- remonstrate, crying-"But your Excellency bade refuses to gratify my first whim!" ciation of the honors thus conferred on him, per- me warn you whenever you transgressed the rules The affair was irrevocably broken off. sisted-in spite of his age and suffering-in remain- of society !-but it is an unheard-of thing, your ing with the army of operation. Excellency, to beat one's servant in company! Excellency, you are infringing every custom; you are making yourself ridiculous!" "I ought not to die in my bed," said he to his friends; I ought rather to perish on the field of battle, in the midst of my brave comrades!" SIR THE BOTTLE AT SEA. IR Duncan M'Gregor, an English officer of the The entente cordiale between England and France thirty-first regiment of infantry, was on board These heroic words of Tour d'Auvergne were is manifested as much in the world of gaiety as in the Kent, East Indiaman, when it was burnt to the fulfilled on the 25th of June, 1800. He fell, mor- the regions of politics. This season has witnessed water's edge, in the Bay of Biscay. As soon as the tally wounded, having been pierced with a lance: the throwing open of a considerable number of Eng-fire broke out he hastily wrote a few lines describand thus was his prediction realized. lish salons, where the Parisians are received with ing the situation of the vessel, and threw them overdistinction; and by an agreeable reciprocity the board in a bottle. Four years afterwards, being English abound in all the Parisian drawing-rooms. quartered at Barbadoes, he was walking on the The result of this communication is not only friendly, shore very early in the morning, when he espied but conjugal; the nations go hand in hand both to something in the water. The waves washed it to the field of battle and to the altar, and mingle their his feet, and it proved to be the identical bottle he signatures equally upon the diplomatic protocols had launched before being providentially saved from and the pages of the civil register. Amongst the the flames in the Kent! many international marriages with which all ears and tongues are occupied, there was one which attracted the universal attention of the aristocratic circles. The chief actors were a young man of good name, large property, and high position, and a beautiful English girl, dashing, witty, and an heiress. Like most of her fair countrywomen, Miss - had travelled much, and seen a great deal of the world. On the morning of the day fixed for the signing of the contract, she thus addressed her future husband in the presence of the assembled The old soldiers of the army-they of the grey moustache and furrowed brow, who had never shed a tear since the days of their childhood, wept for their illustrious companion-in-arms, and went into military mourning for his loss. His sabre of honor was deposited amid pomp in the Hôtel des Invalides, in Paris, and his name was honorably retained on the regimental roll. His heart, enclosed in a golden case, was intrusted to the senior sergeant, whose post was that next to the ensign, bearing the colors of the forty-sixth demi-brigade; and every day at parade, at the call of the name of "ThéophileMalo Corret de la Tour d'Auvergne," the oldest of the grenadier company responded, "Died upon the field of honor!" How much more affecting than any monument of brass or marble is this strange tribute to the memory of a heroic soldier. PARIS ANECDOTES. OF the variety of those little anecdotes, which are always rising like bubbles to the surface of French Society, the two following are the most amusing: There is now at Paris an ambassador from some small foreign state, who is a perfectly honest and meritorious man, but one absolutely ignorant of the usages of Parisian life. Very tenacious of his dignity, and fearful of incurring ridicule, he wisely engaged an expert valet de chambre, whose principal recommendation was his knowledge of decorum and of all the exigencies of civility. The ambassador and his valet were inseparable. François was always at his master's elbow or behind his chair, ready to suggest an opportune movement, or to arrest him on the brink of an incongruity. Thus he would bend forward and whisper-"I must observe to your Excellency that one can ever ask a second helping of soup.—Excellency, it is not well bred to clean one's nails with the prong of one's fork. I think I have mentioned to your Excellency that you should never eat with your fingers.” The following story is related by Mr. Benjamin Franklin Bourne, an American ship-captain, in a recently published account of his adventures among the Giants of Patagonia. After three months' detention among those huge savages, during which time he suffered great hardships, he made his escape; and, having reached Borga Bay, Terra-del"We found on shore inscripFuego, he landed. On a branch of tions of California-bound vessels. a tree overhanging a little stream, we found also a company :- “Pray, speak,” said the bridegroom, gallantly. nople?" ous account of our voyage, to deposit in this repository of curiosities; and I added a contribution, narrating my capture by the Indians and escape, with a request that if it should fall into hands bound "Comment?" cried the gentlemen, quite aston- for the United States or England, it might be pub lished." Mr. Bourne had previously written letters to the United States, had carefully left them to be sent through the post, and had never doubted that his relatives and friends were in full possession of his adventures through that usually exact channel. It turned out, however, that all his letters miscarried; and that the bottled information he had suspended from a tree, in a wilderness not visited by man many times in the course of a year, very soon afterwards made its appearance at full length in the Boston Atlas newspaper! It happened that some Indians found the bottle, sold it to a passing trader, who forwarded it to Smith's News Rooms, at Boston, United States. The advertising powers of a bottle hung upon a tree did not end there. In "But I should think such a voyage a most the course of the homeward voyage, Mr. Bourne wretched way of passing our honeymoon!" "Then you refuse?" visited the Fire Fly, Captain Smith. When his name was announced, a young lady on board inThe gentleman endeavored to cloak that little stantly asked him if he was the hero of the captivity word of dissent in an infinity of clever and agree- in Patagonia? He was astonished at her knowable disguises, but his refusal was not the less dis-ledge of his adventures; but it turned out that the young lady had landed at Borga Bay, and, having "Then seen the bottle, read its contents, and replaced them, before the Indians took it away. Born under an almost tropical sun, the diplomatist had often much difficulty in subduing the anger to which these admonitions frequently excited him; but one day alas! the preceptor being carried away by his zeal, ventured a reprimand upon some sub-tinctly conveyed. ject, which chanced so seriously to exasperate his Very well, Monsieur," replied the lady. master that, although it occurred during a ministe- I refuse also, and I cannot marry you." 66 TETE-A-TETE, WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. THI hatred she feels for her once lord and master is a Merryvale,” a serial novel by Paul Creyon, issued in semi-monthly parts, illustrated admirably by Billings, as far as we have read, promises to be a great work. The scene is laid in Boston. "The Dodd Family Abroad" is a new ponderous volume by Charles Lever, which we have not read, and scarcely mean to, inasmuch as dinner parties, horse-races, and harum-scarum scrapes have been done up by this author to our surfeit. "The Master's House " is the most recent issue depicting Southern life, but deliver us from any more abolition and anti-abolition stories! her interesting tales. Many of her novels are suf-true-hearted Maine farmer, who, for his deep love's "We have space for only a few hasty comments; nor will we attempt to deprive the reader of his legitimate treat by giving any analysis of the story. The book is full of incident, and the plot artistically The style shows the luxuriant imagiwrought out. being on whom his idolatry is lavished---Jacob is an "An important element of popularity in this book original, true to nature and worthy to be the hero of is that its scenes are laid among us, and it portrays a romance. His sister, Mrs. Gray, the hucsterwofamiliar life. The opening scene in the Fulton man, and mistress of the Long Island farm, is equally market is inimitable in its fidelity, which the rich- admirable in her way, and would command respect ness of coloring makes only more apparent. And for all her class. We are glad to meet her and her the little girl, in whose humble fortunes we become double chin whenever they appear in the story, for interested, is drawn with exquisite truth to nature. comfort and sunshine go with her, and her benevoThe scenes in the home of her destitute grand- lence and generous sympathy are a light in dark parents need none of the kind of aid given by late places. The description of her Thanksgiving-dinner writers to their descriptions of the haunts of is a gem, the more precious as these old-fashioned poverty; they are sketched simply, but with the celebrations of the jubilee are becoming rare and will touch which makes the whole world kin, and leave soon be traditionary. their impression unmarred. The prison scenes are appalling in their truth. It is to be hoped the legal injustice and oppression they expose will not long be our reproach. The passages of life at the farmhouse on Long Island, and about the old homestead in Maine, equally with the exhibitions of social nation of the author, and her felicitous command of luxury and fashion in metropolitan circles, are language. Rich coloring is shed on the most comsketched with a master hand, and affect us as reali-mon-place scenes and events. ties. The variety in the scenes, and their skilful genius of so high an order, such power of concepdisposition in the work, add to the interest, which tion, combined with such artistic skill in grouping never flags for a moment from the beginning to the and disposition, and accuracy of detail in description ; end of the tale. Most novels contain dull chapters, but this has always been a peculiarity in Mrs. but here is one in which the reader's attention is Stephens. stimulated and sustained, so that he cannot find a convenient stopping-place throughout. "But the great peculiarity of the work is the power displayed in the conception and development of character. It is not often we see "By the time this notice meets the eye of our readers, Fashion and Famine,' will be published. brilliant success; but knowledge of the good it will It cannot fail to meet with a jubilant welcome and diffuse by its impressive and forceful moral teaching will be more grateful to the author's benevolent heart." One or two original characters usually suffice to make the reputation of a novel; here are a cluster of striking ones. Old Mr. WarFriendless-poorJULIA's letter in our last, upon the subren is our especial favorite. starving-in the condemned cell-surrounded by all ject of tobacco, appears to have stirred up quite a depressing circumstances there is a simple dignity commotion, if we may judge by the quantity of letand grandeur about him which elevate him above ters we have received upon the subject We subour pity; it is a light from heaven poured through | join a few of them: the opening his unswerving faith and holy trust have To the Editor of the New York Journal: made in the dark clouds of his fortunes. His character, child-like, yet sublime, is delineated with But the most note-worthy publication is Mrs. powerful but delicate touches; it grows upon us Stephens' remarkable romance of "Fashion and through all the disasters that beset him, to the last Famine," which is fast becoming the most talked-scene of Christian triumph in the prison, where he of-book of the summer. A distinguished literary lady has sent us a review of it, which we subjoin in full: fulfils the mission of his blameless life, reclaiming SIR, Since reading the letter from Julia, published in your last number, a cloud has rested on my brow; and though convinced that I am no match for Julia in eloquence, still my mind has been fired to defend my cigar to the last extremity; not that I wish to puff the weed into more extensive use, for To Julia: LEWIS. DEAR MADAM,-On mature reflection, I have concluded to address you by this title, feeling convinced that you must either have attained that "certain age" when ladies living in a state of single blessedness are usually so addressed, or "Many things combine to make this a remarkable "His repentant and suffering daughter-a wanand most interesting book. It is the first appear- derer for one sin, but restored through her noble ance in book form of any of the productions of the father's prayers and teachings-is a brilliant creation most gifted and popular authoress of our country, -a Zara-a sad picture of womanhood with all rich whose writings have delighted the public for many gifts pertaining thereto, perverted and cankered by a years, and won a reputation the more enviable single error, which it is the main effort of her life to because it has not been aided in its growth by the repair. Her outward fortunes are glowingly conpatronage of critics. Every reader is familiar with trasted with her father's-unbounded wealth and the name, and has admired the genius of Mrs. luxury and high social position are hers; but in her that the title is yours by right, and that you fancy, with the Stephens; her charming fictions have visited almost own proud, loving heart rankles the sting insepara-wedding-ring, you have bought the right to scold; for your every house in the land between the embellished ble from the conscience, not void of offence in all tone is certainly too acrimonious to spring from a young covers of magazines, welcomed on their account, and oft and oft has the wish been expressed that this favorite authoress would present the American public with a volume all her own, or a collection of who are not depraved beyond feeling. Except in heart, beating with love and generous emotions. I must premise my remarks by informing you that I am a sensitive man, and that I am passionately attached to my cigar. I also have my strong antipathies; but I do not rush. into print to herald them to the world. I am not so selfish as to expose the little weaknesses of your sex, though were and it certainly seems to me that the skill manifested and miration of small boys, but is hardly an accomplishment to Respectfully, A. R. C. DEAR SIR,-As a member of that class "Julia" abuses so emphatically, I can only say that I shall be prepared to foreDo we live wholly in the world for ourselves, and is there go the use of the weed, whenever a quid pro quo can be sugno such principle as mutual forbearance? gested; and until this be found I shall certainly continue to PETER WHIFF. Let us be lenient to the little weaknesses of either sex, for the cigar is not the great evil you would paint it. How many troubled minds are calmed by its soothing powers; how use it if I chews. Park? spent yearly in theatres, concerts and other amuse- Ah, that curse of this age, utilitarianism. It is an iron demon that crushes the fragrance out of every flower, the beauty out of every grace, the good out of everything! IN Frederick Tennyson's recent volume WHAT has become of our grand Central of poems occurs, in the "Songs of an old Man," the many are they who would feel the icy hand of solitude op- Has it expired in the Municipal embrace? following sadly beautiful verses :press them but for its companionable influences? Let not We do remember of hearing once, that a Committee gross selfishness "freeze the genial current of your soul;" leave us our cigar, for it disposes us to pensive thought, and had it in charge. We wonder who that Committee in its cloudy vapors may be seen a phantasmagoria of the wass-if they exist, what they're about! We wonhappy scenes of our past life. It has a magic like the cabal-der when we shall be able to say, Behold, this is the istic words of the Arabian enchanter, to call up glittering spires, amd gorgeous palaces, and to bring back upon our hearts again the half-forgotten delights of youth to soften and to cheer us. MY DEAR MR. EDITOR LEWIS. When I read Julia's letter, I was so delighted with it that I ran right away to Brother Charles, who was in his smoking room, puffing away as if he were a funnel, and read it to him all through. "There, now Charles, what do you say to "Some old maid's chattering!" replied he. Park? We wonder when it will become a tangible, definable, fixed, bounded and visible thing—when it will cease to be merely an Act or an Incorporation on paper-when it will escape from the death-like hug of a Committee, and emerge before us with glorious being. For our part, we pant for it. We dream daily of its promised charms. We count the days that, passing on, increase so fast our sum of life, but that accomplish so little toward the great That's always the way with Charles. He thinks that if desideratum? Shall we grow old and see it not? he stigmatizes an opinion as an old maid's, he has entirely annihilated it. I up and told him so, but the provoking fel-Will our hair deepen into gray, and it come not? low only laughed. "I tell you what it is, Charles," said I, Answer, O thou Committee ! Respond, mighty "I am not an old maid (I was eighteen last May) and I don't ever mean to be one (the impudent fellow laughed outright, and absolutely began to talk about that odious Peter Pump); that ?"" but I can tell you that Julia's sentiments are my sentiments and the sentiments of every spirited woman in the land. If you men don't stop masticating and smoking that nasty, nasty weed, we will meet together and pledge ourselves to have nothing to say or to do with those of you who use the vile thing." "And give up all your beaux, eh?” Brother Charles always does put me in a passion. My blood began to boil; but I determined to keep as cool as 1 could. "Beaux," said I, "beaux! You men think that all Councilmen ! then, we can convince you. Our citizens generally, perhaps, do not appreciate all the advantages to be derived from a grand Park. Perhaps not! We think we see something in your eye, O reader, somewhat sceptical. Yes, there is a downright look of doubt. Ah, is it so? Perhaps, Risc up some morning, just as the sun lifts his rosy checks from out his slumbers, and say: "I will ride forth!" Mount your steed, and guide his eager steps countryward. You desire to taste the air as borne over fields and glades, laden with the perfume of flowers-you desire to seck out some sylvan retreat, or to find some bowered avenue, where your horse, with free rein and buoyant blood, can scamper along in its grateful shades. But, with such a desire in view, whither will you go? Ride out by any of our avenues, and what do you find but a hot, dusty, arid waste, no smooth grateful turf, no forest shades; and as for the air, why it I want to tell you a little incident that happened the other comes to you laden with the perfume of pig-styes or day. I had just, for the first time, put on an elegant lawn dress (you should have seen it, six flounces, ruffled-beau- distilleries. Oh, of all the cities in the world, the tiful!) and only run in two doors above us to show it to a approach to ours landwise is the most repulsive and friend, when, ugh! I found all down the side a great streak the most disgraceful. It is absolutely a frightful colof horrid yellow spittle, which somebody had squirted on me.lection of unsightly, unwholesome, and festering Wasn't I in a rage, though? Oh, if I could have caught the beast who did it, I'd—I'd—I really can't tell what I would have done, but something desperate I'm sure. But I must Your suffering reader, we care about are beaux. I can just tell you it's no such thing! And I can tell you, too, that we women are determined to put up with it no longer; and that, if nothing else will cure you of your fondness for this disgusting stuff, we'll just begin to chew, and smoke, and snuff, and spit, and then we'll see how you would like it?" and with that I bounced out of the room, determined to have no more to say to him; and I sat right down to write this note, because I thought that if everybody would only publish what they think about it, we would eventually drive the thing out of the country. SIR,-I agree with you that, if the ladies were generally outspoken upon the subject of "Julia's" grievance, it might become in a degree mitigated. I think, sir, that it should be looked upon as a national reproach which patriotism would be well employed in seeking to remove. For my part, I desire the character of the American gentleman to become so elevated and refined as to be an acknowledged model for the world, and it seems to me that the first step towards such an aim must be the proscription of a practice that at present degrades and stigmatizes it. I allude now more particularly to the habit of chewing tobacco. Smoking does not appear to possess so many objections, inasmuch as expectoration is the great evil. I believe that this is the only country in the world where saliva is so indiscriminately scattered about; objects. And is it not plain that the Central Park "But ah, the cost, the cost of all this !" Lead me a little in the sun And sets upon their ancient thrones Is seen his golden plumes to move My heart is like a temple dim, Down whose long aisles the moonlight floats, Hover, like wings of Cherubim. But at this hour no living tread Is heard, no disenchanting sound. The lines of the third stanzas which are italicised, contain several magnificent images, reminding us of some of Alexander Smith's startling out-flashings. Does These exclamations rattled around our ears the other evening from a party of elegantly-dressed ladies and gentleman at one of Jullien's concerts. Oh, ghost of Lindley Murray! Canst thou lie quietly in thy grave and hear these things? it not put you to the blush to see how, in this goodly town, these and other solecisms continually fall from the lips of the beautiful, the young, and the intelligent? Does it not stir your blood somewhat to hear from the purse-proud, the place-proud, the caste-proud, from would-be-statesmen, learned divines, accomplished M.D.'s, these vulgar errors continually dropping? Oh, it offends us to the very soul to see, as we often do, an animated, intelligent, beautiful woman mar her sentences by these vile and most atrocious errors. They are by no means confined to a class. We hear them in the drawing-room, the pulpit, on the stage, on the street. Reader, can we not reform them alto Why, yes, the cost! How much think you is gether! "DANGEROUS PUBLICATION" is the some "WHILE divorces," writes a friend eastMODERN literature, in this progressive ward "are getting so plenty elsewhere, and the what startling term a cotemporary bestows upon us. age, is often given in its brightest efforts in the methods of procuring them being equally, on the Dangerous!" exclaimed we, as our eye fell upon advertising columns of our morning paper. Poetry other side, at a premium, we recollect a story of an the paragraph, and beginning to wax a little wroth, is now consecrated to trade-in every other form it old clergyman in Massachusetts, now many years Dangerous! Infamous! Such an epithet! But is considered obsolete and prosy. The National gathered to his fathers. A couple applied to him let us see a little further: The great danger of the Epic, when one is written, will undoubtedly appear one day, asking him what he could advise them "New York Journal" lies in the impossibility of in the shape of a huge advertisement, its heroes under the circumstances to do; for,' urged they, collecting sufficient nerve to lay it down until it is Genin and Lyon, and its story a tale of Broadway. 'you married us, and it's very plain we can't live finished, as its contents are of that engrossing In the meanwhile, we are provided with abundant together! We must be divorced! The old gentle-character that the god of sleep is driven from his lighter effusions, and as a specimen of what poetry man, like many others of his school, was exceed- throne, and rheumatic aches and pains entirely for- is doing, and to what uses it is put, we clip the folingly shrewd, and full of expedients; so instantly gotten for the time being.' Ah! we beg your par-lowing "elegant extract" from a morning paper, bidding them stand before him, back to back, he don, sir! That's quite another thing. We lift our where it prefixed a bootmaker's announcement :— addressed them: 'There,' concluded he now, do hat to you, sir." A little glove stirs up my heart, as tides stir up the ocean, both of you go different ways; and never come And snow-white muslin, when it fits, wakes many a curious together again so long as you live!' They did as he told them; but whether that untying was sufficiently thorough to enable either of the parties to venture upon matrimonial expedients again, hardly appears with the history." THE Soul—the true soul-sees itself mirrored in all the objects that surround us. Nature is something more than a mere "economy" of existence. There is a living humanity pulsing through it all, from flower to star. We perceive material objects only through our senses, which may be called the windows of the soul, which lets in light to the real and inner nature, that we take in the true meaning of nature, in the many forms it holds out to us. As with the artist, there must be an eye within his eye, so with him who has begun truly to live,-there must be a life within the life, feeding itself on all things that the good God has spread out for his contemplation. the coroner. “Plaze yer honor, Teddy an' I rifled his pockets, and he niver once stirred." The jury immediately pronounced a verdict of "taken from the water stone dead." WHO is the author of this most consolatory bit of poetry, and quite as sweet as it is consolatory? The wisest of us all, when wo A SHOEMAKER, who evidently has his eye open to all the catches of trade, is about to introduce a new style of shoe, to be called the cornucopia; for he says they are to be made large enough to accommodate, without crowding, as many corns as a lady or a gentleman may see fit to cultivate. What the secret of the thing is, we don't know; but we have an idea that all who wear such articles abroad much, may very properly be called corn-stalk-ers! A CORRESPONDENT assures us that the incident related below is strictly true. If so, it is quite the queerest idea we ever heard advanced in reference to the subject of qualifications for participation in the sacrament. A highly illiterate itinerant minister, who claimed no special denominational privileges as such, when the hour for the observance of the rite arrived, rose and observed: "Those present that believe in their hearts they're AN esteemed friend of ours once had notion : All sorts of lady fixins thrill my feelings, as they'd orter, I'll give you short and brief, A small hotel experience. Which filled my heart with grief. As flowers grow from a vase. A great tall pair of other boots We are not very nervous, nor do we indulge much in timid apprehensions, but just imagine the effect of the following lines upon even a courageous man as they catch his eye just as he is coolly sipping his coffee and gleaning the news: READ THE TRUE AMERICAN-The only American paper published in New-York, for this week. It contains powerful articles to enlighten the American people on the subject of the Irish Catholic conspiracy to murder every American Protestant in this country. Americans who do not wish to be assassinated in the public streets, will do well to read this independent paper. Rather startling! It makes one think of St. Bartholomew and Bloody Mary, and the Popish riots that so tormented (in imagination mostly) the good old citizens of London. But most fortunately, with the frightful evil so freely prophecied above, a mode of safety is considerately shown. If we do not wish to be assassinated (which, we are bold to say, neither of us, reader, do wish to be), we have only to buy a copy of this "independent paper." Easy safety-valve! Although, if to read the paper were would be something worse than the chance of the necessary to secure a means of safety, the remedy WHAT sweltering weather we are hav- evil. PUNCH, speaking of female physicians, parodies the well-known lines of Scott : “Oh, woman' in our hours of ease, |