POETRY.
NAPOLEON.
I-IARK! the world is rent asunder,
Nations are aghast; and kings
(Mingling in the common wonder)
.Shake—-like humbler things.
Only thou art left alone
Napoleon, Napoleon.
/4
Plague, from out her trance awaking,
Quits her ancient hot deinain :
And \Var, the stateman’s fettcrs breaking,
Shouts to the_e-—in vain 3
Both to thee are now unknown.
Napoleon, Napoleon.
He who rode \Var’s fiery billows
Once, and ruled their surges wild,
Now beneath Helena’s willows
Sleepetli like a child I
' All his soaring spirit flown ;
Napoleon, Napoleon.
In his gi"av'e the warrior sleepetli,
Humbly laid, and halfforgot,
And naught, besides the willow, weepetli
O'er that silent spot !
Calm it is, and all his own;
Napoleon, Napoleon.
But what columns teach his merit?
Wliat rich erinines wrap him round?
None .'—-his proud atid plumed Spirit
Crowns, alone, the ground l
Proud and pale, and all alone,
Thou art dead, Napoleon I
anions FROM THE Fiiniivotf.
THE ORATORY.
About six.-months. priorto her death, the Com-
tesse dc Merset, having been seriously indispos-
ed, occupied a separate suite of apartments from
those of the comte,—-at La Grande Bretclic.-—
Her sleeping room looked u pen the river—and
had sash windows opening upon the .lawii,
which sloped pleasantly towards its baiiks.—
\Vithin this apartment was a small recess with.
11 glass door, which served as an oratory—it was.
about four feet square, and constructed within
the thickness ofthe wall. On the night in ques-
tion, by one ofthose strange fatalities for which
there is no explanation,—tlie comte returned
iliome two hours later than usual——from the club
* where he usually spent his evening in reading
the papers or discussing politics. The iiiva-
\ .sion of -France had formed the leading topic of
'-conversation--and the subject ofa long and ani-
Ltuated disctissioii-after which, beitig already
‘excited by arguiu_ent, the comte had lost a cori-
siderable sum at billiards. ~On returning home,
the had usually satisfied liiiiiself, for some time
ipast, by ask-ing the conitesse’s attendant, Rosa-
lie, iflier lady were retired to rest, ere he pro-
nceetled to his own apartments; but, on this
in‘~iglit, .i.t-occurred to him he would visit her him-
1 self that he might recount his ill luck. Accord-
ingly, -instead ofsuinnioniiig Rosalie, he proceed-,
ed directly to the chamber ofthe comtcss. llis
well known step resounding along the corridor,
lv_[_‘ll.l at the instant he turned the handle of the
door, he faticied he heard that ofthe oratory
fllosed suddenly; ;l«n=rt, when he 6lllt.‘l't‘.tl
‘tit, he saw i\I:id2imc de Merset stand-
ing be;-Um ml‘. hearth, on which sniould_c-red the
cmbefs up ,, [,a1,',‘xtiiigiiislieil fire. It iiuipedi-
mcly Occu,-_.Cd ,0 [,;_,,,°. it uiust have been l.tosa-
lie who went itito the I>Fl"L"r)’= 1'0"‘ ‘Vl”“l‘v ‘l‘“""‘
rever, there was no egres‘ -“'.”l- ll_”,°"‘a’l’ _"l’e C"'“'=
stesse's apartments. Yet a.=U"P,"f'°”, OI 3; d"‘:l“”".'
:natiire, nevertheless, crossed W5 ,‘_"""9~'“3"f’“v
ilike a sudden flash of dazzliiig l-'31‘? _“'l"Cl‘
could not be ext.iriguislied. lle looi'.t=i.« hfcdly
at his wife: and there seemed a trotibft‘-u ex‘
witliti-.‘_
the apartith
BY WM. G. HYER.
PRINCIPLES AND MEN.
$2 PER ANNUM.
voL. 18.
NORWALIC, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1835.
N0. 45.
ty, ‘Get you all to bed l’ Then making a sign
for him to approach nearer, and lowering his
Voice.--‘\VheI1 they shall be all asleep--ASLEE1’,
mind, you come and inform me.’
During none of these extraordinary arrange-
ments had the comic once lost sight of his lady;
and when he had finished giving his orders, he
returned to where she was seated by the fire
side.
\Vhen Rosalie re-entered the room, she found
the comte and eontesse conversing together, to
all appearance mechanically.
‘Philippe is here, monsieur,’ said Rosalie.
"Tis well,’ answered her master; ‘bid him
enter-’
The couttesse grew slightly pale on seeing the
mason.
‘Philippe,’ said the comte, ‘you will find ma-
terials in the court-yard for walling it p the door
ofyoiider cabinet.’
And drawing Rosalie and her lover aside,
‘Listen, Philippe,’ he continued, ‘you remain
here to-night, but to-tnorrow you will receive
from me a passport which shall enable you to
leave this place for some distant town in a for-
eign land, which I will indicate. I give you
the sum of_G000 francs for your journey; and
you will remain ten years either in the town to
which I shall shall -direct you, or in any other
you may yourself select, provided you cotititiue
in the country in which it is situated.
But you will first proceed hence to Paris,
where you will await my arrival, then, I
will ensure you the possession of another 6000
francs, to be paid you, on your return from your
expatriatioii, provided you have strictly compli-
ed with my condition. At this price, understand
whatever you may be called upon to do this
night, must remain forever a secret. For you
Rosalie,’—he continued, turning towards her as
he spoke, ‘I will settle 10,000 francs on you, the
day of your marriage with Philippe; but mark
me, this promise is made on the sole condition of
your tnarrying him.”
Atthis moment the conitess’s voice was heard
calling to Rosalie, and the cotiite, turning away,
proceeded quietly to pace the apartment, watch-
ing the tnovemeiits ofhis wife, Rosalie and the
mason, but without allowing any indications of
suspicion to be discernible. Philippe mean-
while iii pursuance ofthe task imposed on him,
made a -considerable degree ofnoise; and seiz-
ing this chance of her voice not reaching the
ears ofthe comte, who had just attained the
other end ofthe chamber, the coutesse hurriedly
atltli-essetl Rosalie, in a “tone that was scarcely
above a wisper. ‘A hundred crowns yearly for
thy life are thine,’ she said. ‘if thou canst only
obtain one =c-revice there,’ pointing to the door of
the -or.a=tory, which Philippe had comtrienced
building up with brick and plaster. Then, in a
lotider voice, -and with ‘a fearful calmness as her
husband approacilieed, she added, ‘Go Rosalie to
pressioii in her eye as she avoided his scai‘ci.=hI;'
glance.
‘You are late to night,’ she said; atid there
was 21 slight tremor in her voice, usually so clear
and musical. ‘ _
The comte did not repl '; for at tliptniistaiit,
as if to strengthen the horrid thought which pos-
sessed his secret soul, Rosalie entered the room-
Turniug abruptly front her. he. loltlcd his IIFIUS
iiioodily across his breast and iuipetuously btit
iuecliaiiieally paced the apartment.
‘You are ill, my lord, I fear--or bring you
evil tidings I’ gently inquired the eomtessc, as
{osalie proceeded to undress her. Bathe still
continued silent. ‘You may retire,’ added Ma-
dame de Merset to her attendant, for she fore-
saw souiethiug tiiore than usual was gatlieririg
on the disturbed brow of her lord--and she Wl!:l1-
to meet it alone.
As soon as Rosalie was gone, orsupposetl to
be so, M. de Merset approaclied his lady, and
said coldly, with an attempt at certainty, though
his lips trembled and his whole frame was pale
with emotion, ‘Some one is coticealed within
that oratory!‘
The coiiitesse looked calmly and somewliat
proudly at her husband ; and simply answered.
—‘No! my lord.’ _
That No smote like a knife across his heart,
for he dared not believe her—aiid yet never had
she seemed more pure to him, than at that nio-
meiit. He was advancing a step towards the
door of the oratory as if to convince lniriself,
when the coiutesse, placing her hand upon his
urm,—arrested him; and, looking at him for a
moment, with an expression of deep melancho-
ly, said in a voice which trembled with eino-
tion :
‘Should you find no one there, remember,-
all must be at an end between us forever!’
“And there was an ineffable dignity in her
look and manner which awed the conite’s sus-
picious, and made him pausein his purpose.
‘No, Josephine!’ he exclaimed, ‘I open not
.that door, as guilty or innocent, we then must
part. But listen : I know all thy purity of
heart, and the sanctity ofthe life than leadest,—
thou wouldst not commit a mortal sin at the ex-
pense of thy soul!’ She looked at him wildly.
‘Here is thy crueifix—take it !-—swear to uie be-
fore that image,—there'is no one there-—and I
will never seek to enter. _
The contesse took the crucifix and murmured
_‘I swear.’ ‘
‘Louder!’ said her husband, and repeat, I
swearibefore the virgin—tliere is no one conceal-
ed in that oratory.’ _
. And she repeated the words of the oath with-
but an visible emotion. _
V,‘ “Tis well ;’ M. de Merset coldly said; then
i added, after a moment’s silence—-.-his eye resting
l upon the crucifix she had just laid down, xvliigh
was ofebony and SIIVCT9 ilf1‘l_0l ‘3’“l"‘5“° ‘Y0’ '
"fI18.flSlll])--‘YOU have soiuetliiug there, which 1
'1 . . - ’
never saw before,-—-or know that you possessed-
J
J
L
l »',,iway to the frontiers.’
4
u
-A
“ell. Rosalie came immediately.
{ in his business as a master mason.
' k me l——go seek him !--—bring him hither witl
jtools !
,-Line shall surpass your utmost wishes. Bu
»in the house :—-above all, let not a word es
*3 your li.ps—-a whisper, and
,cried as he looked tnenacingly upon her
. "gwas about to leave the room to obey his or
our.’ He then called ‘Louis!’ in a mic
'-."‘I iriet with it accidentally at 1_)uViVi6r’S_ W110
nought it of one of the Spanish prisoners /of war,
_..~'=”nvlieii they passed through Vendome On the”
‘Ali!’ said the comte, replacing the crucifix
its guilt nail over the chimney piece 3 1“ do’
-ig which, at the same moment, he rang the
, M. de Mer-
‘let advanced to meet her; and leading her into
_e einbrasurc of the window which opened tip-
the law“. abruptly, and in an undertone, said,
understand that poverty alone prevents your
1' on with Philippe, and that you have declar-
‘rt your intention not to become his wife until he
ill have found the means of establishing him-
Now
Let him (I0 whatl desire, and his
,7: especial care to wake no one besides him-
His brow
3;, when he added, -‘Llolxl! take my msst:
under along the corridor. Louis, his confi-
al servant, appeared at the hasty summons
the assistance of Philippe.’
The husband and wife, as by a sort of tacit
l«_igrc“)ITl€llt, remained mutually silent during the
,;’,'he cniployed in filling up the doorway. This
[flight IJCPIICIYIG IIQVG llcun ooouuu.-:1,-\Jn
me p,,,.,,,~_(‘ the cprnte. to prevent the cointesse I
from 1,a,.;,,g it in her power to convey .an_'y
double meaning to her words; while, on the
otlicr side, it might iiave been pride or pruclencp.
pmhaps, which 1,,-eveuted her from breaking it.
By this time, the wall being gbput lgalf Way
completed, the artful mason, SC-lzmg his 0PP0f'
tunitv when the conite’s back was t.urned to-
wards the scene of his operations, struck a blow
on the door of the cabinet which shattered one
ofthe panes of glass. This action gave Madam
de Merset to understand the success of the iii-
telligeiice which subsisted between Rosalie and
her lover; and casting a glance ofintense anx-
iety towards the iiow darkened apei'tu_re, the nia-
soti as well as herself, beheld within it, the dark
and haridsome countenance ofa man whose iii-
trepid look of courage and devotion fell upon her
pale and guilty countenance. Ere her husband
turned again in his walk, she had made a hasty
sign to the stranger which seemed to say, t/Lcrc
is yet hope-.’
It was near day-break, that is to say about
four o’clock, for it was the month of May, ere
the construction was completed ; and the mason
having been delivered to the care of Louis, the
comte and cointesse retired to rest.
The next morning, on rising, the comte seized
his hat, and making a step towards the door,
said with the utmost appearance ofindifferenee,
he must go to the niayorality for a passport.-
Then suddenly turning back as his eye chanced
to rest upon the crucifix, he took it front the
chimney piece, and as he did so, a thrill of sat-
isfaction passed through the bosom of the coin-
tess. “He is going to Duvier’s,” she thought,
“and will be the longer absent.”
Scarcely had he left the apartment, when she
rang the bell violently, to summon Rosalie ; and
in a voice that was rendered fearful by excess of
agitation, cried, “to work ! to work l” Then
fraiiticly seizing an iron bar which Rosalie, by
her direction brought for the purpose, commenc-
ed demolishing the yet uridried wvork of Phil-
ippe. Despair were her efforts, in the hopes of
being able to repair the destruction of the wall-
ed up doorway, before the dreaded return of the
comte. Despair lent her energy, and a voice
within, which penetrated to her sharpened and
nervous car, alone encouraged her to proceed.-
Already a part of the brickwork bad yielded, and
she was in the act of applying a yet more vigor-
ous blow for the removal of the remaining ini-
pediments, when the comte pale and menacing
stood before her. She shrieked not—spoke not
—btit fell insensible on the floor.
‘Place your lady on her bed,’ M. de Merset
coldly said. The truth was he had foreseen the
probable result of his absence; and had accord-
ingly laid a snare into which his wretched wife
had but too stirely fallen. He had written to
the mayor, and sctit to Diivivier; who had ar-
rived just as the comtesse’s apartment was again
restored to order, and herself recovered from her
swoon.
“Duvivier,” said the comte addressing the un-
conscious jeweller, “Did you receive this cruci-
fix from any ofthe Spanish officers who passed
tlirougli this town as prisoners of.war, on their
way to the frontier, a short time sitice T” _
“I did not, inoiisieur, nor have I ever seen it
before,” was the reply. . _
..}.;,,0,,gh_1 (1,,-ml; yup,” rejoined the comte,
calmly restoring the relic to its lornier place;
then as the jeweller left. the room, _lie desired
Louis to see that his repasts were served regu-
larly in the apartment of the comtesse, “who is
too ill,” continued lie, “for me to tliitik of leav-
ing her until her healtliis in soirie degree rc-es-
tablished."
l
1
continue to keep watch over her.
i
(3
master, who added, in a tone of authori-
to the agonized prayer which rose to her parch-
ed lips, with a fierce and ertiel emphasis, be
checked her, saying ‘You have sworn on THAT
crucifix, there is no ONE there.’
THE MECHANIC.
\VHAT IS THE USE OF LEARNING?
WHEN the Indian was asked whether he
would have his son learn to read and write, he
replied, ‘\Vhat will be the use of my son's learn-
ing to play with a feather?’ Now who blames
the savage for his indifference to this most use-
ful art of civilized life?
\Vhcn we recommend learuiiig to many
whom we believe to stand in need ofit, we ex-
pect they will ask, like the Indian, ‘Of what use
will it be?’ \Ve cannot expect those who are ig-
norant ofany branch of knowledge to understand
intuitively the value and advantages of its ac-
quireiueiit. \Ve_have, we believe, in part, ati-
swered this qtt(!SllOIl, in one or two former arti-
eles ; but there is sortie room yet left, we appre-
hend, for further illustration.
Knowledge is certainly necessary for every
mechanic, in regard to his own ttade—and sim-
ple as that may be, there is little room for its be-
ing so simple that notliing remains to be learned
concerning it. VVitliout much knowledge, es-
pecially witliout much scieiit.ific knowledge, in-
deed, one may go on plodding in the way of his
fathers, as the Chinese continue to do, or like the
farmer who carried his grain to mill in one bag,
and put stones in auotlier to balance it on his
horse; but one cannot so expect to be able to
work to the best advantage, to make the most of
expedieiits, or to avail himself of easier ways of
operation, which a little more knowledge and a
little more thought would often discover.
For many of the mechanical professions, such
as those of the carpenter, the architect, the work-
er in metals, tliepainter, inueli knowledge is tie-
ecssary to a perfect acquaintance with their arts,
which ought not to be carried on without an in-
timate knowledge of scientific principles. espe-
cially geometry, cliemistry and natural philoso-
phy. \Vithout books, they will assuredly, after
a while of necessity discover some oftliese prin-
ciples, just in time to perceive that had they
learned them long ago they iriiglit be much far-
tlicr advanced in their trade.
Probably every one, in the course of his pro-
fession, has often met with cases, for which no
rule has been found laid down, and obstacles
which no previous experience had taught him
how to surmount; and perhaps, for the want of
knowledge suflicieut to invent new ways of op-
eration, and to discover in what the unexpected
ditficulties lay, he has lost his time, his labor
and his materials, and perhaps spoilt his tools, in
trying to do what science, if he had known any
thing about it, would have told him he could
not do.
Had the German miners, who prayed to be
delivered from cobalt, been better chemists, they
might have «discovered the value oftliat materi-
at it tiie arts. rtau the ignorant voyager; xvlin
more rational to do the best we can to elevate
our minds, and increase the limits of our know-
ledge ‘I
VVe have often thought that the want of sci-
entific knowledge among laborers, in the nie-
chanie arts, is it grand reason why they are not
more independent, and able to command better
wages. If they are ignorant of the principles of
their employment, so as to be unable to conduct.
direct and make iniprovemeiitsin their business,
they can but expect to remain more or less in
subjection to those who possess this knowledge,
and who may, and undoubtedly do, often keep it
to themselves, and wit_lioitt which their endeav-
ors at competition must be f'i‘iutless.—Bostwz.
Jllcc/ionic.
DORIESTIC DIORA LS.
A \VIFE’S DUTIES.
BY Mus. S'l'A.\‘l-‘0‘l’.D.
I may perhaps startle yon, lilflii, by saying
that the first year ofa young woman's wedded
life is generally the most unhappy, and the
most trying one she experiences. However in
teutly we may have st udied the character of our
affiaiiced, however well we may imagine we
know it in all its narrow widings, still shall we
find, when we become wives, that we have yet
sornetliing to learn. By actions is the affection
on either side shown, and tliotigli it is in the
power and nature ofa woman to manifest her
devotedness by a tliotisarit.l little attcntioiis, she
must not repiiie ifslie receive not the like. The
feelings ofthe other sex are not so soft and ex-
quisite as those ofour own; if they were, we
fertility is so striking that it has been compared
to flowers and even to fruit. The Greek and
other poets. talk of hyaciniliine locks, ofeluster-
locks like tendrils. The favourite epithet for a
Greek beauty was “well haired ;" and the same
epithet was applied to weeds. Apuleius says
that Venus herself, if she was bald, would not
be Venus. So entirely doI agree with him.
‘arid so much do I tliiuk that the sciititnont of
any thing beautiful, even where the real beauty
is wanting. is the best part of it, that I prefer the
help ofartificial hair to an utigratcful want of it.
I do not wish to be deceived. I would know
that the hair is artificial, and would have the
wearer inform iue so. This would show her
worthy of being allowed it. I remember ivhcn
I was at Florence, a lady of quality, an Euglisli
woman, whose beauty was admired by every
body, but never did it appear so admirable in
me, as when she told me one day, that the ring-
lets that hung from under her cap were not her
own. Here, tliouglit I, it is not artifice that as-
sists bcauty, it is truth. Here is a woiriaii who
knows that there is beauty in hair, beyotid the
material of it, or the pride of being tliouglit to
possess it. The first step in taste is to dislike
perfection; but the best ofall is to find ottt the
hidden beauty, which is the soul of beauty itself,
to wit, the sentiment ofit. The finest eyes are
not fine if they say nothing. \Vliut is the filicsr
harp to me strung with gold, and adorned with
the figure of Venus, if it answer with a discor- '
datit note. and hath no chords in it fit to be wa- ‘
keried. Long live, tliercliuc, say I, lovely nat-
ural locks at five and tweiitv, and lovely artifi-
cial locks, if they iiuist. be resorted to, at live and
might possibly be happier, and we may, for a
moment, wish that they were so; but we shall
«restrain so selfish a desire, if we reflect how
much more unlit they would be, by such a
constitution of heart, to bear the crosses and luif-
fets of the world; and w-e shall rejoice that they
do not possess our keener sensibilities, and rest
content with our lot, refusing to increase, at their
expense, a happiness, which, if not quite meet-
ing our ideas of perfection, does so suflicieiitly
to make us blest.
It is said that ‘lovers’ quarrels are but the re-
newal of love ;’ but it is not so in truth. Con-
tinued differences and bickering will uuderininc
the strongest alleetion, and a wife cannot be too
careful to avoid disputes upon the most trivial
subjects; indeed, it is everyday occurrences
wliicli try the love and tempers in the married
life—-—grcat occasions for quarrels can seldom oc-
cur. Every wisli, every prejudice must meet
with attention, and the first thought ofa woman
should be the pleasing and providing for her
husband. It is impossible to enumerate all the
little incidents which frequently annoy married
men, or the little unobtrusive pleasures which it
is in the power of a wife to give; but throughout
her life, in her employments and in her amuse-
ineiits, she iriust ever hear his pleasure in her
mind. .Slie must act for him, in preference to
herself, and she will be amply rewarded by
witnessing his delight, in her and in his llOl'l1I‘..—_..
simplicity warrant it.——Leigh Hunt.
a butterfly came into our room, and began beat-
ing himself against the upper panes ofa win-
dow lialfopeu, tlitiiking to get baclt.
so delicate.
tiy. you bring away on your fingers, something
wliichyou take to be down,liut which are plumes
of feathers; and, as there are no fairies at hand,
two atotns high, to make pens of the quills, aitd
write “articles” on the invisible, there would
be a loss.
shaking his venerable locks at such unnecessary
venting hcedlessness.
downwards, you stand a chance ofliurting his
anteniiie, or feelers, and of not knowing what
mischief you may do to his eyes, or.-s_c_nscs of
thirty or forty. Let the lt.'tt‘p be new strting, if
the frame warrant it, and the soiiudiiig board
bath a delicate utterance. A woman of taste
no more scruples to resort to such hclp_s at one
age, than she would consent to resort to them at
ati age when nosucli locks exist in nature. Till
then let her not cease to help herself to a pleii-
tiful stipply. The spirit in which it is worn
gives the right to wear it. Aflectation and
ing locks, (aniinagiiie taken from grapcs,) of
all artifice, the next is to demand nature in her»
by satiety-«ingratitude---desertion. So strongly
and painfully was Mrs. I'I('t.l1anS excited by the
progress of the story, that her health and spirits
‘began severely to stiller, and the tale was there.
'fore, abandoned.
Tiii-: PTt0SPl~ZC'l‘ AND Ri:'i'i:osm:e'i‘ or Liviz.
—It is well for us that in early life we never
think ofthe vicissitiides wliieh lie before us; or
look to them only with pleasurable aiiticipaiiuu
as they apptoacli.
“ Youth
Knows nought ofchiinge: Age has traced tbeni oft,
Expects, and can interpret tbetn.”—[[. Coininenus.
The tliought of them when it comes across its
in middle life brings with it only a transient sad-
ness, like the shadow of a passing cloud. \Vc
turn our eyes from them while they are in pros-
pect, but when they are in retrospect many a
longing lingering look is cast behind. So long
as Mr. Allison was in business he looked th
Thaxted Grange as the place where he hoped
one day to enjoy the blessings of retirement-.-
that otiwii. (.'t(/It clignilalc which in a certain
sense the prudent citizen is more likely to attain
-than the successful statestumi. It was the plea-
sure_of recollection that gave this hope its zest
and its strength. But after the object which do-
.nng so many years he had held in view had
been obtained, his day-tlrcains, if he had allow-
ed them to take their course, would have recur-
red more frequently to Bisliopgute street than
they ever wandered from thence to the scenesof
his boyhood. They recurred thither oftener than
he wished. although few men have been more
masters of tlieniselves; and then the remem-
brance of his wife whom he had lost by a litig-
ering disease in middle age, and of the cliildren,
those who had (lied during their childhood and
i those who in reality were almost as much lost to
, him in the ways of the world, made liiiti always
{turn for comfort to the prospect of that better
state of existence in which they should once
uiorc all be gathered together, and where there
would be neither cliauge nor parting. I-lis
thoughts often fell into this train, when on suin-
iiier evenings he was taking a solitary pipe in
his arbor, with the church in sight, and the
cliiircliyard wliereiu at no distant time he was to
be laid in his last abode. Such musings induc-
ed a sense of sober piety—of tliaiikfnliiess for
former blessings, cotiteiitinent with the present,
and humble yet sure and certain hope for thin-
rity, which might vainly have been sought at
prayer meetings or evening lectures, where iii-
deed little good can ever be olitaint-d without
some deleterious adiiiixturc or alloy .ofl:_ascr feel-
iiigs.
i
I
Tut: 'i‘ottt.i'i'0.—-Di‘. Bennett, the Profes.
*sor of Midwifery, and the Diseases of \Vomeii
and Children. Hygeinc and ACClll1l£l((.‘ll'l(‘llf, iii
the medical College of Lake Erie, which is the
Medical Departuietit ofthe W'illougliby "Univer-
sity ofLake Eric, at Cliagrin, Cuyaliogri Co.,
Ohio, in his public introductory lecttire ‘recent-
ly delivered in that llourishiiig institution. made
the following statement relative to the Sulrmuin,
L_i/copc'rsi'ciun. or as it is Licncrally called, Toma-
to, Love Apple, Jerusalem Apple, &c., to wit:
pretension spoil every tliiug; sentiiucnt and
THE l’ERPLEXl£D iiu'r't'i«;iii'i.r.—’I‘lie otlierday
It is a nice
oiiit-—rclieving your biittcrfly-—lie is a creattire
lfyou handle him witlioutceremo-
Mr. Bentham’s ghost would visit it,
rain producing and reasonable-pleasure pre-
Tlieii if you brush him
oaded a fleet with yellow sand, in hopes of re-
To
woman who loves her husband with all
tott.Pll, or his insrunieuts of dialogue; for some
philosophers hold that insects talk with their
1st. That it (the Toin:ito,) is one ofthe most
powerful dcobstrucnts of the Materia Mcdica,
and that in all those affections of the liver, and
other organs where caloincl is indicated, it is
probably the tnost effective and least hariiiful
remedial agent known to the profession.
2d. That a chemical extract will probably
soon be obtained from it which will altogether
supereede the Use of Caloiiicl in the the cure of
disease.
3d. That he has successfully treated serious
diarrlitea with this article alone.
éllll. That when used as an article of diet, it is
almost a sovereign retiicdy for dyspepsia, or in-
digestion.
5tli. That persons removing from the east, or
north, to the west, or south, should by all means
make use of it as an alinient, as it would, in
that event, save them frotii the danger attendant
upoti those violent bilious attacks to which al-
most all unaccliniated persons are liable.
Gui. That the citizens in general should make
use of it, either raw, cooked, or in form of a
And for fifteen days did the comte de Merset
During the
first six, a noise was from time to time heard in
that closed up cabinet, which struck terror to the
soul of tbe guilty woman and horror and despair
crept through her veins; but when she would
have thrown herself at his feet to implore for
mercy on herself and the stranger that was dy-
trig there, without allowing her to give utterance
alizing a golden treasure, been Lliorniaifi. they
might have been spared the vexation ofso much
labor in vain.
The following illustration of the value of sci-
entific knowledge, is extracted froni a work en-
titled Zllechanique appliquec aim: Arts.
‘Brandies liav-e, -according to their greater or
less degree of concentration, a greater or less
specific gravity. The French, who first meas-
ured these degrecs of concentration by liydrome-
iers, were by this means enabled to make their
brandies always with certainty of the precise de-
grce of strength or proof, required by the mark-
ets to which they were carried. The Spaniards,
whose strong full bodied wines are eminently
suited to distillation, endeavored to enter into
competition with them, but as they were not ac-
quainted with the use of the liydrometer in de-
termining the specific gravity of their spirits, they
were obliged to content themselves with the fol-
lowing clumsy and awkward substitute :—a
drop of oil was let fall from a given height on
the surface of the brandy, a-nd as it stink to a
greater or less depth, the liquor was concluded
to be iuore or less concentrated. This measure
failed them perpetually, and the result was, that’
no dependence could be placed on the strength
of their brandies. Spanish brandies having thus
acquired a bad reputation in the market, were
purchased by French merchants, concentrated
to ilie requisite degree of strength as indicated by
the hydrometer, and ultimately sold as French.
By the sale of this description of brandy in the
northern market alone, the F reuch, before the
revolution, realized an annual profit of four mil-
lions of francs. The Spaniards now understand
the use of the hydrometer, and carry their bran-
dies to market themselves.’
In so far as a person is ignorant, just so in ueli
more is be liable to be imposed upon. Design-
ing meti like to take advantage of ignorance, es-
pecially where the deception is unlikely to be
discovered. The peasant cooper who discover-
ed the quicksilver iriines at Idria, received but a
trifling compensation forthe quantity which he
carried to an apotliecary. who took care to con-
ceal from him its real value. Not long since, a
piece of land was bought for a moderate consid-
eration, in some one of the New England States,
by some persons who had learned enough of
mineralogy to discover a valuable quarry upon
the ground which the owner knew uotliing about.
But, it may be said, it is not likely that a me-
chanic would often make sticli discoveries, or re-
alize a fortune through some accidental discove-
ry which he might make in science. Perhaps
not. Ilad we believed that the pecuniary ad-
vantages, the advantages in trade and business,
were the orily ones to be derived from learning,
we might even have said less upon the subject
than we have said. We are not among those,
if such there be, who believe that nothing is use-
ful to a person, but what promotes the increase
of his property.
The ignorant man, who has nothing but hands,
is but a tool, a machine. inticli like a steam-en-
glue, or a saw-mill. He can work, to be sure,
and earn money, but he may not know how to
keep it, and make the best use ofit.
But there is this advantage in the possession
of knowledge ofa useful and practical character
-—tliat besides making man a thinking, rational,
social, useful being, it also enables him to take
the best advantages which his trade aflords, and
even to turn into the channel ofhis trade, resour-
ces which no one else would have thought of
making useful.
One need only to turn to the lives of men of
tnecbanical genius, to see how, by taking advan-
tage oflittlo things, and facts which no one had
observed, or which every one had thought Ull-
worthy of regard, they have established new and
important principles in the arts, and built up for
themselves rriaiu.ifaetories for thepractice oftlieir
newly discovered processes. Instead of envy-
ing them, and rcpiuiiig at our own ignorance.
and our own incapacity of rising above the level
of mere instruments of labor, would it not be
the °“°'-°(ln(’SS()flle1‘ nattire, this will be a pleas-
ure, not a task; an to make min Ilullpj, olxo
will never grudge any sacrifice of self.
The greatest misery a woman can experience.
is the changed heart and alienated affections of
her husband ; but even in that painful case she
must not relax in the performance of her duties;
she must not upbraid, she must bear with forti-
tude and patience her great disappointmeiit; she
must return good for evil to her utmost. and h-er
consolation will be the consciousness that her trials
-have not their rise or continuance in any derelic-
tion of affection or duty on her part.
Some women, in order to win back a lins-
band's wandering love, have recourse to the at-
tempt to arouse his jealousy ; but they are much
mistaken in pursuing such a method. A man,
however debased may be his conduct, never en-
tirely forgets the love he once bore to the bride
ofhis youth: there are moments when feelings
of tenderness for her will return with force to his
heart; and to reap the benefit ofsucli moments,
the injured but forgiving wife, must still be en-
shrined in the purity of former times. A lins-
:band will excuse his fault to himself, and in
some measure also stand exonerated to the world,
ifliis wife relax in the propriety of her conduct;
while, on the contrary, the gentle forbearance,
the uncomp'laining patience, and unobtrusive
rectitude ofthe woman he injures, will deeply
strike his heart, and do much to win him back
to his former love, and to the observance of the
vows he breathed at the altar, when his heart
was devoted to the being from whom it has wan-
dered. A kind look, an affectionate expression
half-uttered, must bring his wife to his side, and
she must with smiles and tenderness encourage
the returning affection, carefully avoiding all ref-
erence to her sufierings, or the cause ofthem.
This will not be difficult for a virtuous woman
to perform. Our love, which before marriage
is constrained by the modesty and reserve ria-
tural to our sex, increases in ferveiicy and depth
afterwards; it enables us to bear unfelt the
world's scorn; all is swallowed up in it; an af-
fectionate wife will cling to her husband through
good report and evil report—througli poverty
and riehes—-and the more the world recedes from
him, the more firmly will she stand by liiin—
she will be his friend when none others come
near liim—slie will be his comforter when all
other worldly comfort has slid from liiin—lier
devotedness will be his rock when he has no
other support—sbe will smile at the frowns of
the world, she will not heed its censurcs; be is
her all, and in her love are all other feelings
forgotten or absorbed. No sacrifice will be too
rrreat, the faintest smile will not be a reward too
littlc—-quick at feeling uukiudiiess, we are as
quick at feeling tenderness, and a very trifling
circumstance is sufficient to awaken or to still
the pain of our hearts atid bring us misery or
liappiuess. -
IVIISCELLANY.
FEMALE ii.-uit, NA'1‘UltAL AND Ai:'rirtcri.-iL.-—
Hair should be abundant, soft, flexible, growing
in long locks, of a colour suitable to the skin,
thick in the mass, delicate and distinct in the par-
ticular. The mode of wearing it should differ.
Those who have it growing low in the nape of
the neck should prefer wearing it in looks hang-
ing rlown, rather than turned tip with a conib.——
The gathering it however, in that manner, is
delicate atid feminiiie, and suits iuauy. .lu gett-
eral the mode of wearing the hair is to be regu-
lated according to the shape oft.lie head. Ring-
lets hanging about the loreliead suit almost. eve-
ry body. On the other liand the fashion of part-
ing the hair smoothly, and drawing it tight back
on either side is becoiuing to few. It has a look
of vanity instead of simplicity. The face must
do every thing for it, which is askiiigtoo much,
especially as hair in its freer state is the oriiameut
feelers, as dumb people do with their fingers
der to prevent worse, even to the least and tiiost
delicate of heaven's creatures, who would not
know pain; and perhaps the merrier and hap-
pier they are in general, the greater the lumps
of pain they can bear. Besides, all must have
their share, or how would the burden ofthe great
blockisli necessity be equally distributed; and
finally, what business had little Papilio to come
into a place unfit for him, and bothering liim-
self with glass ?——Oh faith !—your butterfly must
learn experience as well as your Bonaparte.
uiatter, (for so glass appears to be to insects as
ors strewed about, as if some fine lady had gone
the liazard ofcraeking their brains, and spoiling
ing less, and enjoying all things. And liereup-
on we contrived to get him downwards--and forth,
out into the air, sprang he.——first against the
UU“'<-ver. some sullerina must be liazarded in or-
There was -he, beating, fluttering, flouncing. won-
dering that he could not get through so clear a
to men,) and tearing his silken little soul out
with ineffectual energy. \Vhatfeathers and col-
mad against a ballroom door for not beinglet in 3
But we had a higher simile for him than that.
“Truly,” thought we, “ little friend, thou art
like soiue of the German transeendentalists who,
in thinking to reach at heaven by soiue impossi-
ble way, (such at least seenieth at present) run
their wings forever. whereas if thou, and they,
would but stoop a little lower, and begin with
earth first, there before thee lietli open heaven
as well as earth; and thou mayest mount as
then wilt, after thy own happy fashion, think-
lime trees,—and then over them itito the blue
eitlier—as if he had resolved to put our advice in-
to practice.—-Leigh Hunt.
THE LAST L.-‘KY5 OF DIBDIN.
Thomas Dibdin puts out “The Last Lays of
the Last of the Three Dibditis.” It contains
about 200 of his poems and songs, of which
about one fourth are new. The author of the
beautiful duet, “Ali's \Vell,” has been a voluin-
inous writer. Besides “The Cabinet," he has
written about 1-30 acted plays, 37 pantomiines,
«ll burlettas, and an autobiograpliyl In this
new volume, the epigrains are the best. \Ve
subjoin a few:
On. a .S'r'u,p7'a’ Faiiiilg/.
“Uy children! to cope with the world atid its
tricks,
(Said old Prosy, addressing his sons half a
seore,)
I’d have you resemble the bznirlle of sticks.
XVell they proved a mere buiulle ofslic/.’s, and
no more
New Words to an Old Air.
“Gamirier, (cries 'Gall'er,) Oh! how the wind
blows
Gainmer: It never does any thing
knows."
Colour for Absitrzli/3/—-A C'0r7ri2c_i/ C'nl/oqity.
“Tom ‘\Vliy, Mike you're triad! \\’hat are
ion at .7’
Jlffilrez ‘I’n'i fishing in a dyer’s vat.’
Tom: ‘To eorniuon sense, sir, I appeal,
\Vliat could you catch there ?’---
Jllikc : ‘Catch an cct .” ” [Cocliincal.]
Vindieatioii of Conxvcnlual C’/rarrurlm-.
“Nuns have proved iiicorrecl, ’tis said ;
I disbelicve it., rat.her.
Because, through life, 1 never read
But of one Nun
\Vlio owii’d a son,—-
Tliat Nun was Joshua’s father!”
1-.‘a"1‘l-INSITY or 1>oi-:'rici< 1-‘EELING.
I tutist relate one atieedote, illustrative of the
ititensity of feeling Mrs. I-lemans threw into her
poetry. She had undertaken and made consid-
erable progress in a legend, (the idea was, I be-
lieve, taken froiu some German tale or pocin,)
in which, to scctire the love and constancy of a
mortal suitor, a beautiful enchaiitrcss is repre-
else as I
intended for it by nature. Hair is to the aspect
“hm foliage is to the landscape. Its look of
sented as resigning one spell of power alter ati-
catsup, with their daily food, as it is the most
liealthly article of the MuteriaAlimentaria, «See.
Now if these positions be true, it is of the tit-
mvst iuiportaiice that the public should be made
acquainted with the facts, and it is with this
view that I now make this communication for
the press.
ENGLISH SALA.VM.\‘DERS.----The following
fact is stated on the authority of three ladies,
upon. whose accuracy I can rely. They were
residing at Newbury, where, their cellars were
frequented by frogs, atid a kind of newt or sala-
mander ofa dull black colour. Several of the
frogs were caught one day, and put in a pail;
and while the ladies were looking at them they
were surprised by observing the frogs, one after
he with their legs extended quite still and dead.
Upon examining the pail they found one of these
efts, as they called them, running round very
quickly amongst the frogs, each of which, when
touched by it, died instaiitaneously, in the man-
ner above stated. They afterwards regarded
these snakes as may be supposed, with tiearly
as much horror as they would a rattlesnake ; and
11 few nights afterwards, finding one inthe kitch-
en, it was seized with the tongs, and thrown in-
to a good fire which was burning in the grate.»
Tlie reptile instead of perisliiiig, slipped like
lightning through the coals, and ran away un-
der the fire place apparently unhurt. The liouso
in which these animals were found, was in a
remarkably damp situation. If our northern
Salamandcrs it re gifted with such powerful means
ofoffeiice and defence, we know not how far
those powers may be snblinied in the species of
warmer climates; and the fire-quenching and
death-doing properties of the Grecian or Roman
salamanders may approach nearer to the siippo—
sed fabulous descriptions ofAristotle and Pliny,
than modern Hcrpctologists seem willing to be-
lieve.—Kirby‘s Bridgcwater Treatise.
A princess of Hiingary once asked a monk
who was a scliolor and a wit. to explain to her
the story oflialaam and his ass: adding, “good
father, I can hardly believe that an ass should
be so talkative.” “Matlaiii,” replied the father,
“ yourscruples may cease, when you are inform-
ed it was afcmalc..”
A venerable buteccentrie ineniber of thcpres-
bytery, lately in attemping to get into the pack-
etboat, fell into the canal. He was drawn out,
half drowned, and conveyed to a house in the
neighborhood where he was put to bed. \Vill
ye take some spirits and water, Sir?’ asked his
considerate host. “Na. na! I have had plenty
0’ water for ane day ; l’ll take the spirits alone.”
A clerical gentleman, remarkable for preach-
ing many sutidays from one text. had nearly run
thro’ the year from these words. “Peter’s wil'e‘s
mother lay sick of a fever.” The cliurchbell
tolled cafly one morning, when the minister
despatched a servant to inquire who was dead.
The sexton pretended ignorance, but returned
for answer, that he believed it was “Peter's
mother,” as she had been sick for a long time."
ARGUMEN']‘;\'l‘l\'I£.-—-\VllllC an old farmer was
flogging one of his graccless sotis a purnpkiu
headed fellow about eighteen, an idea of a sud-
sttdden entered the head of young Jonathan, and
be sung out, “Stop Dad—-let’s argue!”
Cholera at Louisi:ille.—-\Ve are credibly inform-
ed that. the cholera is carrying on dreadful rt_iv-
ages at Lotiisville. A single pliysiciaii on the
18th ultimo. had forty cases and another eigh-
teen which were generally fatal. The persons at-
tacked frequeritly died after five or six hours sick-
ness.
A woman has been arrested in Norfolk Ca.
(V it.) for the nitirder of her liusband, an elderly
Lotlier---last of all, her immortality, and is repaid
lniau.
another, turn themselves on their backs, and '
Norwalk Chronicler