. that our fellow i-iii:-teii.
.Hubbell t\'. Tliornpsotl.
250 one
M‘
1,3‘
1
TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM,]
-—
VOL. XXI.
it DOWT GIVE
UP THE SHIP.”
NORWALEC. CONN. VVEDNESDAY. t{§C'E‘0B, Eilfléflat, 1338;.
[i>Av1i_‘ia’i.'i¥:" is .{o.v,txci£
Pill}. 85.
THE I/IURWALK GAZETTE,
is ronnisinzn icvi-:iu' WltZDi\'F.SDAY iiioiituivc.
orertlie Store of Jlfr. Jlfonson Hoyt, uiest side
the Bridge.
Tii:iuts.—Subscriptions $2 a year, where de-
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Subscribers living oitt of the carriers district,
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Mail subscribers $2. payable in advance.---
g?’ No others attended to.
Advertisements. $1 per square for three inser-
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tion- Yearly advertisers$l0,incl_uding the pa-
per, payable quarterly. Advertisements not
marked. will be continued till forbid.
Orders enclosing paymentinay be forwarded
by mail, postage paid-
THE sLo_oP’ CITIZEN
Capt. GRU.M1llAN, Jllaslero
“fill sail from Hoyt’s landing to James Slip.
N. York on Tuesdays. and return on Saturdays.
TIIE S L.0(’)I~’ IV! EC 5 5 ANI(’.
Cupl. I:0CI(l'VELLv -M05157?
'tVill sail on StI[lll"tIfi_\‘8 and return on Thurs-
days. Freight will be taken as low as.at other
landings. For further inforimtion inquire efei-
thcr of the capt:-.ins on board oil" llictt; f0l~‘_lI))€‘C-
' I t tle store oftic suoscri cr.
ivo vesse s, or it RVVILLIAM T. HOYIT:
Norwalk, May ‘32. I833. ' ll 63
Cit.ttti.is:s Mi«:tiai'i‘,
SURGEON DENTIST.
! AVI-.\’(} pi-iinanently located himself in
the city of Briilgepnrt. begs Ii-ave respect-
funy ,,,i,,fmni the iiiliahitanis of Fuitfield and
. . . - , , - i
ii... ,.,iJ...i,mg ciitltlllca, that he is fnl.y prepared
ii, pmfiii-in any operation upoti the Ieetli. at his
moins,in the most approved and scieiitihc ninnner.
Ladies and gentlemen who wish to have teeth
in.-iertt-d are infornit-d that he has. fltltl “'1” lfeeP
Fnnslalnllv mi hand. it superior l.lzh()t‘ll‘flI.'I'lI oi In-
,.(,”,,,,i‘,|,'|¢ Tcuili. which, for houutv and color.
‘me quite equal to lht‘. natural ones, and in poiti
of durability. are mticli siiperiiir. . ‘
C. M. has hecii locntctl tn this city ftlmtil lb
niontlis, and his success has been Ftl(.'ll as to war-
rantliini in a~.isuriiigIl‘ie [iUl2ll"'_~ lyllll ””’ T05’
mrfect conlideitcc. that lhlf. pl'¢tt;c V\'1_5l ,C0ttl|t1UC
to be his perinaiient rcsiileiipe.
. A” cum in h-H, ,,,,,f,,,5;(,p ».:,.,ll be gratefully re.
cuivpd. and attentletlio ptitrcltially, any limit‘ (if
ihe day, at his otiice in Plienix Building. Wall
street. September 0, 18.38.
.
QC?’ The following ceriiticatc from citizens of
1;,;,1=,.pmi, is rcspccil'ullv ‘s‘ii‘initted to the public:
“lot are happy to unite in as-sitting the public
M * t VI ' Q -
,_ r, (_,linr cs . errttt. t.Ul'
gem, |_)¢_iull§l. is both professio'ii:illy and person-
allv worthy their full».-it cnnt3*,t:;?ii.i:s:. t!t!.‘l ‘l“" he
novisesocs our o-vn. \Ve have cit iur experienced
,'.ur_.ie|ve.-, or witnessed in others, the skill, ease
mid elegance with which he operates. and are
confident that his work is not etttrpassetl by any
Dentist in New York; whilst his coiripariitively
tnodc-rate charges afford to all the cxctclsc Ul l|l~‘
prof:-ssional ability. _ ’
Philip A. Cannon. David H.1\iasli,M. D.
llvdu A‘. Curtis. Wtri. B. Nash, M. D.
'\Vm. R. Tayliir. \Vm~ IL N"”’°v
Stilt.-s Nichols 6:, Co. Henry Shelton.
liirdsey 1? Beach,
Dcforcsl A’. Bearilsley. James Porter.
.B'I‘i(f_2C}707'l., July 28. 1338- 6‘“79
IEEEI-lilL'li Ell All STRENGTH.
HI I‘NEY-‘S Imperial Strcngtlieuing
‘ Plaster, has .'ll)lllltli1Dlly proved its supe-
riority over all others in the removal and cure of
llios: distressitig pains and weakness: in the side.
breast, bac|i.‘&c. Also in rheumatic affections
and indigestion. Hundreds of certificates of
their utility might be given. but the fnlltiwiflg
from one of the most respectable inhabitants of
Fairfiold County is deemed snfiicient:
Norfield. Conn., August 21, 1838.
Mr. Whitney: Dear Sir—By using one of
your Imperial Strengthening Plasters, I have
been relieved in the short space oftwo weeks, of
It painful atid distressing weakness in my back.
with which I have been troubled for the last fif-
teen years. I take this occasion to express to you
my acknowledgments for the benefitthus receiv-
ed, with the hope that all others who are similar-
ly affected, may be enabled to avail themselves
of your valuable remedy.
Very respectfully yours.
JUSTUS PLATT.
For Sale by Mr. J. A. WEED. Norwalk;
and Mr. J. W. TAYLOR, Westport. Price
25 cents. 3m*77
WRAPPING PAPER.
For Sale. at this Office, 4 Reams paper, ofa
larger size than used for printing the Gazette, at
20 cents per quire. or $4 per ream.
Norwalk, Mav 14. 1333-
lMlli’€.. lB©lt\’llD”S SEQIEIEGIHI,
' iron SALE AT THIS OFI«‘_ICE,
ILL'S LIME for stile by
' CHARLES THOMAS).
I 1’.
Norwalk, June 12, 1838'.‘ "
utaitomt anions
' Hard and Pale Brick for
sale by the subcriber at the Old Well Landing.
i~ - ' ~ - ' ' THOS. L. PECK.
‘ Norwalk, (Qld Well.) August gI‘74
‘VOOD ASHES WANTED.
» IGHTEEN PENCE a bushel will be
E paid for wood ashes by the subscriber.
Norwalk, March
MARTIN KALBFLEISCI-I.
.. n -1
From the Democratic Review of Scplembcr.
RETURVI OF THE PAREMTS.
BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.
‘ Long had they sped
(Yer distant hill and valley—noting tnucb
(i‘iod’s goodness in the riches of the land,
The summer fruitage. and the harvest hoard,
The reaper wrestling with the beared wheat,
And the proud torrent’s glory, when it shakes
The everlasting rock—-uor_yet fcrgels
To sprinkle greenness on the Ioneliest flower
That trembles at its base. M iicli, too, they spake
Of pleasure, ’neath the hospitable roofs
Of severed kindred—-how the loving heart
From such communion learns to wipe away
The dust of household care, which sometimes
hangs .
In clouds o’er the clear spirit.
But anon,
The eloquent lip grew silent—for they drew
Noarthat blcst spot. which throws allotlier lights
Into strong shadow—I./ome.
Atthat fullthought,
The b0st;m‘s pulse beat quicker--and the wheels
Moved all too slow—tIio’ scarce the eager steeds
Obcyed the rein. And as the mother spake
Somewhat in murmurs. of her youngest boy,
There came a flood of beauty o’er her brow,
For holy love both beauty, which gray Time
Could never steal.
'Tis there, behind the trees,
That well known roof—and from the open door
\Vhat a glad rush! The son, who fain would take
His mother in his arms, as if her foot
\Vas all too good for earth-—and at his side
The beautiful daughter. with her raven hair
So smoothly folded o’er her classic brow-
Tlie infant crowing in its nurse's arms-—
The bold boy, in his glatluess. springing up
Even to his father’s shoulder—lisping tongues.
And lit le dancing feet. and outstretched hands
Grasping the parent's skirts-—-ii was a group
That ai'tisi’s pencil never yet hath sketched
In all its plcnitude.
And when I saw
The briglitncss of the iearof joy. I felt
Ilow poor the pomp of princes-—antl whaldross
\Vas zxeaten g0ltl,C0lTl[)llI'(£ll with that dear wealth,
Home. and its gra£ulo:lion—aiid the ties
W liich Heaven hath twisted round congenial
hearts
To draw iliem to itself.
Hartford, Friday. July 27th.
TIHE PUNISHMENT OF DEATH.
\Vo have read and heard many arguments
for and agziitret the p,rop_i‘,ie_ty of‘ Capital Punish-
ment,’ astlio vague phrase is. (Capital Punish-
ment being simply the greatest punishment,
lll)t_)llSliill1_’:’llte penalty of death will only make
the next liigiiest Capital, and not abolish Capi-
tal Punishment entirely.) But we were about
to say that the following passage from a wild, im-
probable tab: by Jerrold the Dramatist in the
last New Monthly, entitled ‘ The Lesson of
Life,‘ gives the best and tnost striking view of
the question that we have met. It isadialogno
in the gnol of Paris between the common liang-
man and a tiionk who had visited the prision on
an errand of mercy.—Ncw Yorker.
* * * .Ia'.‘qll(?S Tcnebrm. the hangman of
Paris, qnaffed his wine and water, and drew his
chair near the chair of Father George. the most
rigid and conscientious monk of the order—such,
at least. was his reputziiio_n—and, in a tone of fa-
miliar ,.niifitIen.c,_cq—L_for the’ friar was Anto_inetto’s
confessor—-said. ‘ It-‘other George, 1 want you to
instruct me: never mind that poor lad—poor
innocent!‘ cried Jacques, observing that the
monk glanced at the vacant Narcisse; ‘yes. I
want your counsel in an allair of conscience.’
cried the haiiginan.
‘ Thou shalt have it,’ was the benevolent
promise of the monk.
‘Thou hast called death a punishment, most
holy father. let us debate that simple point ;’
and Jacques sidled still closer to his reverend
guest.
The declining sun shone through t_hccasement,
and, falling tipon the heads of the executioner
and the tnonk, beat, as they were, towards each
other, presented it strange and striking contrast
of character as developed in their features. The
monk’s face was long and sallow, marked with
deep lines about the month, which seemed rest-
less with ill-concealed passions; his eye was
black, ftill and heavy—ajoyless, nnreposing eye.
The countenance of Pierre Tcncbrzc was round
and somewhatjovial ; a love of mirth appeared to
twinkle in his look. and hislips seemed made
for laughter; his black hair and heart! were
sprinkled with white."a'nd his complexion was a
clear, deep brown, flushed in the check with
wholesome red. The sun, shining upon these
heads, brought out their separate opposite charac-
ters in the strongest relief to each other. A
stranger. looking at them froma distance. would
have thought the hangman some humble, yet
wealthy, good tetnpered citizen of Paris, con-
sulting with his household adviser. on a dangli-
ter's portion. a son's patrimony, or some other
domestic arrangement. Very different was the
subject which at that hour supplied the discourse
ofJacques Tenebrze, the hangman of Paris, and
Father‘ George. the austere Capuchin’.
‘ Thou dost call death a punishment ?’ repeat-
ed the executioner. ‘I live by it, and should,
therefore, with the wisdom ofthis world ’
‘ The wisdom of this world is arrant folly,’ in-
terrupted the Capuchin.
‘I am ofthy ghostly opinion,’ observed Jacques
Tenebrze, ‘ as to a good deal of it. Yet, death
being madea punishment, makes my profession;
and, my profession-—I speak to thee in private,
and as a fri.end——my profession is little less than
arrant folIy;’a mistake. a miserable blunder!’
‘The saints protect‘ me_! what meanest iliou
by such wild discourse?’ inquired Father
George.
‘ Hear me out. listen to the hangman I’ cried
Jacques Tenebrzc. ‘ There is another world,
eh? good Father George I.’ ’
The Calpuchin moved suddenly from the side
of the querist, and surveyed him with a look of
horror. ‘
‘Nay. nay, answer me,’ said Jacques; ‘but
for the form of argument. ’Twas for that I put
the question!’ '
"Tis scarcely lawful even solo put it.’ said
the monk. ‘ However, let it be granted.-tIier_e
is another world.’ '
‘ And all men mustdie '1’ asked Jacques Tene-
hrae. ‘ Eh?—is it not so?’ ' '
‘ We conic into the" world doomed to the
penalty,’ replied the Capuchin. ‘Death is the
common lot of all.’ ‘
‘Of the good, and the wise, and the unwise?
Eh. Father?’ cried Jacques.
‘ ’Tis very certain,‘ answered the Monk.
‘ If such, then, be the case,’ said 'I‘eiiebrae, ‘if
"0 Vlflllei no goodness, no wisdom, no strength.
can escape death—ifdeatli be made, as you say,
the penalty of the good. why should it be thought
the punishment ofthe wicked? \Vhy slioiild it
be thought the only doom for the blackest guilt,
Willie. it may be. at the very saute hour, the
brightest virttie is condemned to suffer? An-
swer me that I’ cried the nangman.
"Tis a point above my comprehension. Jac-
ques Tenebrzn,’ replied Father George, appar-
ently desirous of changing the discourse. ‘Let
it rest. Jacques, for able: wits than thine.’
‘ Thou would not kill a culprit’s soul. Father
George?’ asked Jacques, heedless ofthe wishes
ofthe Capiit:liin.
‘ What horror dost ihoii talk 1’ exclaimed the
Monk.
‘But for argument.’ said the unmoved Jac-
ques. ‘Nay, I'tn sure thou wouldst not. I have
heard thee talk such consolationto :1 culprit that,
at the time, I have thought it a blessed thing to
die. \Vell, he died—and the laws, as the
cam runs, were avenged. The repentant
thief. the penitent bloodsliedder, was dismissed
from the further rule of man; pcrliaps,thc very
day he was puriisltetl a hundred pious, worthy
souls were called from the world; he was dis-
charged froin the earth, and—but thou knowesi
what thou hast tweniytiines promised such mis-
doets. when I had done my office on them.’
‘ Thou art ignorant, Jacques Tenebrm—base-
ly ignorant; thou art so faniiliarized with death,
it has lost its terrors to thee,’ said the Capucbin,
who again strove to shift the discourse.
' Of that anon, Father George ; as for death
on the scaffold. ’tis nothing——but I have seen the
death ofa good man, in his Christian bed,’ said
Jacques. ‘and that was awful.’
‘Thou dost own as much?’ observed Father
George. ‘ thou dost confess it.’
‘Awful, yet cheering; and ’twas while I be-
held it that the thought came tome of my own
worthlessriess ’
‘ As a sinner.’ interrupted the Capuchin.
‘And hangman,’ cried Jacques. ‘I thought
it took from the holiness, the beauty, if I may
say it. ofthe good nian’s fate-—the cotnmon fate,
as you rightly call. father-—to give death to the
yillain. to make it the last pi.tnisliment, by cast-
ing him at one fling from the same world with
the pious, worthy creature, who died yesterday.
Now, the law would not. could not if it 'vould,
kill the soul, and, but thou knowest what passes
between thy brotherhood‘ and the condemned,
thou knowest what thou dost promise to the petti-
tent culprit, pita, therefore, to kill a man for his
crimes would'be fiittipg, a reasonable custom if
this world were all. ifthere were nought beyond.
Then. you see, Father George, thou wouldst has-
ten the evil doerinto nothingncss; now. dost thou
speed him into felicity. Eh? Am I not right,
is it not so, holy Father?’ -
‘ And is sticli thy thouglits-~‘iliy truethoughts ?’
inquired the Capuchin.
‘ I thank my stars it is. else I had not held my
trade so long. Punishment.’ Bali! Icall my-
selfthe rogues cliatiibctlain, taking them from a
wicked world, and putting them quietly to rest.
When he who signs the warrant for Ilieir exit,
and thinking closely what we all are, ’tis bold
writing, i’ faith—must some day die. too, when
the ermine tippct inust,'at some time, lie down
with th_e liempen string, it is, inethinks, a hu-
morous way of punishment, this same hanginw.’
‘ I tell thee. Jacques ’I‘enebrr-3.’ cried the Priest.
‘thy coarse faculties, made fatniliar with such
scenes, cannot apprehend their awfulness—tbcir
public use. The example that ’
" ,Ho'!' hold you there li‘a'tlier—examplcl
’Tis a brave example to throttle a man in the
public streets: why. I know the faces of my
audience as well as Dominique did. I can show
you a hiinilred who never fail at the gallows’
foot in come and gather good exam plc. Do you
think. most holy father, tlirit the mob of Paris
come to a Iianging as to a §ermon——to amend
their lives at the gibbet? No ; many come as
they would take an extra dram ; it gives their
blood a fillip—stirs them for an hour or two:
many to see a fellow man act a scene which
they themselves must one day undergo; many
as to the puppets and ballad singers at the Port
Neuf; but, for example, why Father, as I am
an honest executioner, I have in my day done
my ofiice upon twenty, all of whom were con-
stant visitors of years’ standing at my levees.’
‘Is it possible?’ asked the Monk.
‘Believe the hangnian,’ t_inswe.red Jacques
Tcnebrzc.
-‘And thou wouldst punish no evil deer with
death 2’ inquired Father George. '
‘ As I am an honest minister ofthe law, and
live by rope, not I, for this suflicient reason ;
riatnre having made death the punishment of all
men. it is too good a portion for rogues; the more
especially when softened by the discourses of
thy brotherhood.-’ I A
‘And thou wouldst hang no man?’ again
asked the friar with rising warmtli. '
‘ 'I-‘iiough Ispeak it to my loss,’ cried Jacques,
‘ not I’ '
The Professor of Signs,
on, Two WAYS or TELLING A STORY.
In the days of King James the first, the
“Solomon” of England, the Embassador from
the kingdom of Spain. in conversation with
James. spoke of the difficulties he met with in
his intercourse with strangers, and lamented that
lliere were not in the colleges Professors to
teach the language of Signs, which should be :1
universal language among the people of all
cotintries. His Majesty, as mucbgivcn totlie sin
of boasting as any man need be. declared that at
his college of Aberdeen there was an ollicer, a
Professor, who tanglit the language of signs.
0, said the Eiiibassador. I will go and converse
with him. But, "said the King. it is a great way
oil; many hundred miles. If it were ten tIiou-
sand leagues I will see him. I will start oil‘ to-
morrow. Saying which, he bowed and lcftthe
King. James, finding in what a dilemma he
had placed himself, immediately wrote to the
heads of the college, stating what he had done,
and ordering them to prepare irumediatcly for
the Embassador’s visit, and get. off as well as
they could. The professors were boiliered at
first to guess what to do; but the King’s com-
mand they dared not disobey; at last they
thoughtof‘ one Geordy, ti droll fellow living in
the town, who had but one e, e. wlioin they be-
lieved would bring them off if any oite could.
Geordy was acizordingly procured, and was duly
tutored, wigged and gowned to prepare for the
__Embas_sodor. In due time the Embassador at-
r 9
riving made known his business, and was
ushered with dtie ceremony into the room where
Geordy was, the professors remaining trembling
in an adjoining one. i
The Embassailor, after a brief conversation
with Geordy, returned to the room where the
ctillegeofiicers were. and declared liirnselfliighly
gratified with his intercourse with the Professor
of Signs. They wished him to give particulars.
‘ \Vhcn I entered the room. I held tip one fin-
IIEI‘. Signifying there is one God. He replied by
holding up two. meaning that lherewas two. the
Father and the Son. Iilield up lI1.ree.signifying
the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I1eanswer-
ed by clencliing his hand, signifying that the
three were one.’ (For the Enibnssador was a
‘good Catholic,’ and of course believed in the
sublime mystery.) ‘I then took from my
pocket an orange, signifying that God was good
in giving us luxuries oflifc. He zniswered
by liolditig tip :1 piece of bread. sigiiifyiiig that
God gives not only the luxuries, but the neces-
saries of life. The Embassador then left the
place, and Geordy was called in to give his ver-
sion of what took place. ‘ The rascal,’ said he,
‘don’t» you think the first provoking thing he did
wasto hold up one finger. as much asto say yoti
have got l)llI one eye. I held up my two fingers
to let him know that I thought my one eye as
gnotl as his two. He then held up iliree fingers,
to say there were but three between us. I
cleuclied my list. shook it in his face. and had a
rriiiid to knock him down, and would have done
it‘ but for displeasing your woisliips. VVell, then,
to provoke me still further, be held up an orange
as much as to say, ‘ see hcrc—- your poor, heg-
garly, cold country c:1n’t producethelike of this.’
I held up a piece of barley bannock, to tell him
Ididn't care a d—n for his orange so long asI
could got this. But I'm sorry after all. I didn’t
knock the rascal down, and will do it iflie pro-
vokes me again.’ '
THE PARROT:/l DOMESTIC AVIECDOTE.
1:1‘ 'i'iioni.ts CAMPBELL, ESQ.
The deep alI'eciions of the breast,
That heaven to living things imparts,
Are not exclusively posiicssed '
By human hearts.
A parrot from the Spanish Main.
Full young and early caged. came o'er
\Vith bright wings to the bleak domain
Of i'lIulla’s shore.
The spicy groves where he had woti
His plumage of resplendant hue.
His native fruits, and skies and sun,
IIe bade adieu I-
For these he chzinged—the smoke oftiirf——
A lit.-ziiliery land atid misty sky,
And turned on rocks and raging surf
His golden eye.
But. pelted in our climate cold,
He lived and chattcred many a day,
Until with age. from green and gold,
His witigs grew gray.
At last, ‘when blini.‘ and seeming dutnb—
Hescolded, taughcd,uud spoke no more ;
A Spanish stranger chanced to cottie
To Mulla’s shore.
I-Ie hailed the bird in Spanish speech;
The bird in Spanish speech replied,
Flapped round his cage with joyous screecli,
Dropped don n and died.* '
" This incident so stronglv illiismiling tho power
of memory and association in the lower ariimals, is
not a fiction. I li6at'd it nriany years ago intlie Isl-
and of Mull, from the family to wlioiii the bird be-
longed. 2 i " I
Cut-ious.—As a train of railway cars were
passing along an inclined plane on the railroad
frotri Bolton to Kenyon. in England, moving at
the rate of thirty or forty miles an hour, a man
who was standing on the side of the railway
threwa stone about the size ofa hen’s egg in a
horizontal direction, and with considerable vio-
lencc, at the tr.-tin. The stone was distinctly
seen by a gentleman who was seated in the last
car, with his back to the engine. and he remark-
ed that when it bad atiaiiictl its maximum of
velocity, it appeared like Mahornet’s coliin, sus-
pended in the air a few seconds, within a foot of
the gentIeman’s head! He seized hold ofit. and
described the sensation as similar to that ofgrasp-
ing a stone in a state of rest, suspended by a
thread. Thus it seems that the train and the
stone had built attained the same velocity.
Front the Fulncss of the Ilcart the Jllouth
Spcakclh-’——Qne of the fair Yankee girls, bofn
and bred on the Green _Mountains. was lately
thrown frotn a waggon, and carried to a neigh-
boring farm house, with a dreadful gash across
her cheek. antl apparently devoid of either sense
or motion. The village Escnlapius was sent
for, who pronoun"ced it neceseary to sew the
wound tip; when the rustic beauty immediate-
ly opened her eyes, and said, ‘ For Gt)d’s sake,
sir, stitch it rically .”
I_Iow to make (I. newspaper popular.—A few
years after the commencement of the Coltimbian
Centiiiel, in Boston, Mr. Russell. its editor and
publisher, finding that the profits arising there-
from wcrc not sullicicnt to defray his expenses.
applied to Mr. Barrell (one ofthe" lDt,'§I popular
merchants of his time.) for advice as to the course
he had best pursue in the very unpleasant di-
lemma in wliich hewas placed. He informed
Mr. B. of the particulars of his situation in his
usual plain manner. saying that his etgpcnses
were so tnucli on the increase, and his’ profits
were so small, that he thought he should be oblig-
ed to give up his paper and seek his forttine
elsewhere. Mr. Barrcll immediately remarked
that his (Mr. R.’s) case was not so desperate as
he imagined it to be. and recommended him to
lash sotiie of the most poptilar characters oftligz
day in the most. severe terms in his columns,
which course he felt sure would not only bring
hislpaper into more notic_e than it then was, but
would greatly add to his subscription list and iii-
creasc the patronage of advertisers. Mr. Rus-
sell rcplied that siicli a course would be repug-
nant to his feelings, but as he had always con-
sidered Mr. Barrell asa warrn friend. and a man
of superior judgment. he would take his advice
into serious consideration. On the morning of
the nextipublication ofthe Centinel. when Mr.
Barrell went into State street, he observed al-.
most every one staring at him with eyes and
tl'I0lIll'l wide ripen, as if he’ was a monstcrin liti-
inaii shape; and could no‘. solve the mystery of
their looks until a gentleman asked him why
Mr. Russell had lashed him so unmercifully in
his paper ofthat day? M r.EB. at once stepped
into an insurance office-—read the pap,er—and as
he progressed in the article about himself, he
waxed wariii_er and warmer, till at length, in a
liitzli tludgeon he found his way to the Centinel
ofiice, when he demanded ofthe editor in round
set terms, why he had treated him so infainously.
Mr. Russell replied, that as Hr B. appeared
agitated. he hail better beseated until he became
cool Z1ltit.l collected, and tlieti he would satisfy him
to his heart's content. After looking to the
affairs of the office. Mr. liusscll appeared be-
fore Mr. Barrell with a low bow, and offered
the following explanation : ‘ Sir, you well know
thatI have ever esteemed you to be my most
valued friend, and in whose good judgment I
have ever placed the tiiostimplicit confidence-—
for in my utmost need I applied to you for ad-
YICG. which you cheerfully gave me. At that
time it is true, that the course which you mark-
ed out for me, was repugnant: to my feelings, but
after mature deliberation, I was satisfied that it
would have the desirctl clfect, and deterniined
to pursue it. Then I had to select a subject, and
after looking around among our townsmen, I
could not find one whose unoxceptioiiablc charac-
ter, exalted standing antlextensivo usefulness
were equal to your own. I therefore selected
you as the first object. of my attack. lfa man
cannot take a liberty with a friend, with whom
the devil can he 2’
Under Beds.-—\Vould you have good under
beds constituted of materials that will endure?
Then give tip the old notionoffillingiheni with
straw. which soon becomes worn down to chaff,
and requires replenishing once or t\vice a year-
and, if you have not com of your own, go to
some nc':glibor"s husking. and preserve the inner
husks of the corn for this purpose. The outer
liusks are a little too stiff; but the inner ones
are soft anti elastic when dried, and when you
have obtained enough of them to fill the bed
sack, dismiss all trouble about that bed for years
—-for it will probably lnstlas long as you live.;—-
It is quite an object for a family to Iiave all
their beds filled in this manner.
Precocilg/.—'I‘he returns of the number of
children in the several school districts in Con-
necticut, betivecti the ages of 4 and 16, required
by law I0 be made annually, for the ptirpose of
regulating the distribution of the avails of the
SC'l100l funil. show this year a remarkable fact.
The Hartford Courant states that the names ofa
mother and child, both between the ages of-land
16, are returned as aniongtbe children attending
8 district. SC‘lt0til iti otic of the western towns.
This is probably without a precedcntin New
England.‘
fleet Sugar in Jlfassac/iusclls.-—The IIamp-
sliire Republican says that thclicct Sugar Coni-
pany in Noi‘tliamp:o:i, are getting their buildings
ready to operate on a large scale. The manu-
lacturc will he C€lll'l(.-Ell on upon the German prin-
ciple of drying. grinding, and making of the
powder ii strong dccoction of syrup for Christal-
izing.
E:i:aminatio~n in Law and P/2y.»-z'c-...()nr nimi
l'olks, if they can’t get through a question, Iiow
beautifully they can get round it, can't they ?—
Nothing ever stops them. I had two brothers,
Joseph and Eldad, one was a lawyer and the
other was a doctor. They were talking about
their examination one night at a huskin’ frolic up
to Governor Ball's big stone barn at Slickville.
Says Josey. wlicn was cxaiiiined. the Judge
askcdme about real estate; and, Joseph, says
lie. T~Vlli1l’,S a fee? Why. Says I, Judge. it ile-
pends on the matter of the case. In a common
one says I, I call six dollars _a pretty fa_ii'o;ie;
but Lawyer \Vebster has-got afore now, I have
heard tell, IOOI) dollars. that I do call a fee.—-
VVelI, the Judge he lnrfctl nearly to split his
sides (thinks I old chap, you'll burst like a steam
byler if yoti han’t got a safety valve somewhere
or another) and, says he, I vow that’s superfine;
I’ll endorse yon’ certificates for you. young
mart; there’s no fear ofyou young man ; there's
no fear ofyoii, you’lI pass the inspefllloll bland
anyhow. ' ‘ ‘ ' "
' Well. says Eldad, I hope I may be shot ifthe
same thing didn’t even almost happen to tiie at
my examination. They axed me a nation sight
of questions; some on ’cin Icoiiltl answer and
some on ’cm no soul could, right off the real at
a word, without a little cyplietin. At last they
axed me, “How would you calculate to put a
patient into a sweat, when common modes
would’nt do, no how ?” “ \Vliy," says I. “ I’d
do as Doctor Com‘ort Payne served father."—
“And how was that,” saitl they. “ _Vliy,” says
I. “ he put him in such a sweat as I never see
him in afore, in all my born "days, since I was
raised. by sending in his bill, and if that did’nt
sweat him, it’s a pity; _itwas an activeilose, you
may depend.-” “I guess that ere chap has cut
his eye teeth,” said the President, “let him
pass as approbateil.”-—Sam Slick. '
Best Timefor Cutting Tiiitbcr.——For many
years my attention has been turned to ascertain
the proper time to cut timber to insure its great-
est durability. I am satisfied that the spring,
when the sap flows freely is the best time to fall
timber. Iat_i_i borne out in this opiriinn by the
following statetrienzs that have collected:
J C ,- informed me that a detachment
of Ilritislt troops crossed from Philadclpliizi lllt:
1-it day of May, "I777, and on the 3d commenced
cutting down his wooils for the supply of the
army, and at the same time to burn tip his fenc-
ing. which they completely act:omplislictl.—-
_“ But,” said he. “they taught me the proper
time to cut timber to make it last. After they
marched off. I fotind tnany trees that were not
cut into cord wood; those I split into rails, be-
lieving at the saine".ime, they would soon decay
from their being cut in the spring—but I have
been agreeably dis.';ppoi,riteil-——inost of them are
as sound now as wli;en made into a’ fence.”-—
This be related live-and-twerity or thirty years
after the peace of ’SS.
Conversing with an old gentleman in the
neigliborhood of I-Iaddonfield, he told me that in
the spring ofthe year he was making fence. “My
fences.” said he. “ are all of cedar, but falling
short of cedar rails, and having none front the
5...-amp, _I was induced to cut down a pine tree
and convert it into rails to finish my fence; they
were the only pine rails I ever made use of. Text
or twelve years after this, when resetting my
fence, I fotind the pine rails so sound that I let
them remain; since then I have not seen them.
having left my form.” I proposed takingaridc
and look if any of them were remaining. \Vc
did so, and found a number in the fence perfect-
r
’ I
l)’ sound. I asked how long they had been
ll"-"'& Heteplicd. between 28 and 30 years.‘
An old frietid related the follotving’:l9,’I serv-
e" m)’ 3Pl’Ft_2nticeship to at carpenter: During
my apprenticeship my employer was sent for to
build a barn for a farmer in the in-.igliborliood,'
“’l’° _“’“3 V97)’ Particular to liave"e”v‘e'ry thing
done in the best manner. In the old of the moon.
in the montli of February, lig_'g'ui (lqwngnd
hauIed_all the logs necesszit‘y for the' frame; in
the spring my employer was sent for. and whenl
We Came {ti l_i_eW the sills, one was so defective
we were compelled to get 8lJ_()lllEl‘ from the
W0_0d_s to supply its place. Whilst we were
building the barn he would frequently lament
the loss of the sill cut in the winter, saying, “in
a few years I shall have to put in a new sill. for
this one will rot.” pointing to ilie one cut in the
spring. But, said this old friend, I lived to see
the same barn moved, and before it could be ef-
feCl8£l._tliey were compelled to put three neivisillls
putter it; they were all rotten except the one cm;
in the spring. This satisfi'ed tne that the spring
was the proper time to fall timber to insure its
lasting well. ' 4
_ Bemg 1" Egg Harbor. fitting out a vgssel, and
iii company with several poisons, the conversa-
It0_n luriied as to the proper time to cut timber for
ship building——an old man related the following :
I well remeinbera gentleman poming from Phil-
adelphia to Egg Harbor. and seniling for a ship-
carpenter to build hitn a schtiooer. VVtien they
emefed ""0 11 ,C0ntr8,_cl the gentleman bound him
up to cut down all the titnber when the sap run,
and then take his owl: time to build her, provid-
ed he would get her round to Pliila'delph’i.'i before
the winter set in. “la all thought Iic knew but
little about cutting timber, and would soon have
a rotten vessel. E'ghteen years. after said lie,I
saw the same vessel opened. Her timbers were
then sound, and in good (condition.--Farmers?
C’G.lJin:_t.‘’' '' ‘
I-Iints to Business Jlfen.-—Superintend in per-
son as mucli of your btisiness as practicable, and
observe with it watchful eye the management
of that \f.’l_ll,(,'ll is necessarily committed to the
agency of others. '
Beware of self-indulgence; no business can
possibly thrive under the shade bf its influence.
Never lose sight of the powerful influence of
example, and be careful in the management. of
your concerns, to recommend, by your own per-
sonal practice, uniform habits of active, interest-
ed, persevering diligence to those you employ.
Despatcli at once, if possilile. wliatever you
may take in hand; _if interrupted by any una-
voidzible interference, r‘esu_'tn,e' it’ as soon as the
obs:ru_ction is rcinotied. ' '
Do not assume to yourselfmore credit for what
you do than you are entitled to; rather be con-
tent with a little lcss—ihe public will discover
where merit is _du_e_. ' '- 4' I ’
Familiarize yourself with your books; keep
them accurately, and frequently investigate and
adjust their contents. This is an importaiit iteml
Avoid display. ,VVea_r your learning like a
watch. in a private pocket, and _don't pull it out
to show that you have one, but ifyou are asked
what o’clock it is, tell it. '
:TT{'Il§tt9r’€ -T":-o-Icy. _...I.In-n .:-no-‘_-,-r -HE. 0111' 593(-
who would otherwise have been estimable, have‘
had their noblest qualities snllied by this one but
engrossing passion which, “ like Aaron‘s ser-
pent, swallows tip the rest;" rendering them
eager to quarrel with the vanity ofeyery human
being, in order to ayenge the jealousy and exi-
gence of his own. How often doggye hear wo-
man exclaim, "Icannot endure Lady So and
S0, or Mrs. So and "So, slipis so intolcrably
vain; never rccoller.-ting that this anger flit‘-.
nishes the most irrefragable proof that they
possess in no ordinary degree, that very quali-
ty tlzey 'co'nde'mii ; for it is an indisputable fact,
iliaimily vain people wage war against the-
vanity of othe'rs.—Lady Blcssi7iglon's Cori/‘cs
sions Q/‘an Elderly Lady. . -
Dcalh’s Doings-—-‘I am now worth 100,000,
pounds,’ said old Gregory, as he"z'isccndeda_
bill, which commanded a ftill prospect of an
estate he hadjust purchased; ‘ I am now worth
one hundred thousand pounds, and here, said be,
I’ll plant an orchard! and on that spot I’ll have
a pincry; yon farm-houses shall come down.?
said old Grcgory_,‘tliey interrupt my view.’
‘Then wliéii :.v_ill‘becor_ii‘e of the farmers ?' ask-
ed the steward, who 'atten!lCfl "him, FT_hat?s
ibeir business,’ answered .0ltl Greg.ory- ‘And,
that mill must not stand on the stream.’ said
old Gregory. Then, how will the villagers
grind their corn ?’ asked the steward. ‘Thafs
uot my business,’ answered old Gregory. So
old Gregory returned home:-ate 8 __Iie_z_i_rty 3301?-
per-draiilr a bottle of port-—spioli_éil two. pip§§'0_f
iobaccoL—and fell into a pi'ofo_iind slumbe{—
and a_woIto no more; and th'e'fa_r_mers {BS1138
on their ,l‘arids—'and llic mill SH-tn,.fl$ UDDD ‘I39
stream—anil the villagers rejoice that death did
‘A 'qu'sj;,ies§’ with old Gregory,
L
Great Value of Apples.—In the fall of 1835,
(says Mr. Eleazer of Canaan.) I gathered about
150 bushels of good sound apples of diflerent
kinds, and put them into my cellar. for the puff
pose of feeding them out to my stock of cattle
and pigs. and see what ellisct they would have.
\Vlien hard weather comnicnced, I had two
cows that gave milk; I put them into a stable,
and coiiitiienccd feeding the two cows witli
lialfa bushel ofapplcs t_o'ea_ch cow per day. .
charged the boy that mil_ke_d them, to seeif the
cows increased in llieir milki and'the third day
the boy says that _tlic cows gave almost double
the quantity that. they did before I fed them
with the apples; and the young woman that
had the charge of the milk, saysthat the _b_uttel
that was madc’fromtlie milk, at the time'of feed-
ing ilietn on apples, was offine fIavo_r,’_a‘nd a line
yellow color. ' ' '
I likewise’ cntnnicnccd feeding them to my
pigs. I fed about one bushel a day to thirteen
pigs, with a small portion of corn; and I now
defy the State to bring thirteen as good as mine,
that have Iiad no better keeping. " ’ " " ‘
I had gathered about 55 bushels cfgopd applrs,
and put them into a good bin in niyparriag house,
with the intent of making them into cider; bl!‘
before Igot ready to make Ihem ""0 Cider» ‘be,
cold weather came on‘. and all _my apples froze.
I immediately covered them with blopkets, and
they remained in that situation till a thaw i'n the
latter part of December; I then commenced
feeding th,e_r_n to my stock of cattle, which con-
sisted .o_ftweniy-two head arid l!_«V0 F!-’ll_3i Ifeil
iliern about ten bnslicls per _da'y ;" I s'o'0'.t1 lili-104
thatmy cattle would not eat half-the quantity
ofhay that they did before I commenced feed-
ing them with applesgand when the apple:
. = .5
Norwalk Chronicler