NORWALK GAZETT‘.
_r_.
' ‘zx/-vx
’\"/‘- ‘~.'\/»/\/./ -.-v-cxx/..-.J-""" (
NUMBER 523-.\*Evi-' SERIES.
c Gazette.
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Yearly advertisers allowed 2'2lines, with the priv-
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é'i‘,.‘il.iiiterest, will be charged as advcrtisenieiits.
Trzinsieut advertisements. to insure insertion
ti'tii‘st be accompanied with the cash.
Hartford'_‘Mutual Insurance ('0.
JAMES REED. Aer-:.\"r.
Ofliceovcr the lVcst end of Pemioycr ]lIcr'r2'll.
, ,i5't’ore——‘.3cl door East o/_'___fhc _15‘i'-irlgc.
Orders lcft at the Gazetee Qfiice, in the absence
zfthc subscriber, will ?'CC.ciz:(_: altczilion.
-9‘ "\
J. M. SlYIl'l‘_ll’S
Marlbte Itlanufactory,
Near the Bi iclgc, Norwallc. Conn.
EPULCHRAL Monuments and Grave
Stones of every variety of patterns, audof
the most skilful \voi'kinansliip. The best as-
sortment. of American and Foreign Marble,
kept constantly on hand.
Persons wishing to procure Monuments or
any kind of Marble \Vorl<,ai'e invit.ed to call and
give a personal inspection of his iiiateriiil and
workinanship, as this will be more satisfact.ory
than to purchase of Agents without an opportu-
nity of testing the quality of the article con-
tracted for.
E9?" The Lettering and Ornamental work is
executed by an experienced workman and can
warrant it to give entire satisfaction.
Norwalk, Aug. 21, 18-18.
Pluzabc National Da'g1icrriau Gal-lcry,
No. 251 lfiroautwzw, New York.
TWO patents granted under Great. Seal of
the United St.ates——awarded the gold and
Silver medals, four first premiums and two
highest; honors, at the National, the Massachii-
sorts, the New York, and the Pennsylvania
Exhibitions, for the most splendid colored Da-
guerreotypes, and best apparatus. .
Apparatus and Stock. wholesale and retail—-
Portraits taken in any weather in exquisite
style——Instructions given in the Art.
New York. June 20, 1848. *1y25
\VOR’l‘HIY 01-‘ 1\'0'l‘lCl?.
Roderick Lawrence,
47 Canal-st. (near Broczdicay), New York,
HAS just received from auction a splendid
and Venetian
CARPETINGS.
which he has resolved to sell at prices well de-
serving the attention of the public. Purchasers
of Carpeting will promote their interests by
calling—where also may be had on as favorable
terms, every description of
Oil Cloths. Di~u.g,r:e£s, Cliinelle 43- To/Zed Rugs,
Chinelle, Aclelaicle, W'ool and other Door
Jllats. Stair Ror/s.Elcgant lV7’mlow
Shades, Fixtures, is-c. dc.
Persons disposed to do themselves justice in
the purchase of any of the above articles, may
depend with the fullest confidence on being
fairly and honestly dealt with in every transac-
tion, whether or not they are acquainted with
the value of the goods purchased.
5? Churches, the clergy, and other charita-
ble institutions, in all cases, will be furnished at
cost.
New York, Sept. 15, 1848.
New Arrangement
7 ‘HE subscriber has purchased of C. L.
3m40
sii ) l of Brussels, Three Pl ', lnrrraiu,
l I’ Y 2: ,
,_ -by our old familiar \Viu. T. Bacon, ESQ.
Raymond his stock of Lumber, Timber,
&c. at Five Mile River Landing, where he in-
tends to keep a good assortment of Lumber of"
all kinds for building purposes. Also on hand
Lime, Lath, and Nails of all sizes. All of
which will be sold as cheap as can be purchas-
ed at any other yard along shore. For the
truth of which, please call and see.
.tf19 W. H. CLEVELAND.
Norwalk, (Five Mile River) May 9, 1848.
Etna Insurance Co,
IIAR'l‘FORl) Conn.
JAMES REED. Agent.
I HIS old and well known Company has
establiihed an agency in this town. and
duly appointed t.he subscriber its agent, who is
I
I
prepared to enter upon‘ the‘ duties of that ap-'
poinlment, to receive applications for insurance,
and issue policies at the rates usual with compa-
nies of this character".
Norwalk, Aug. 28, I848. 35:}-'
- IYIACKE R13 L-
IN bbls. half and quarter blifs. at
Ours-rr:a=1r’"s;.
, Wa-urea!‘ Innineafitttely.
A JOURN-E Y MA N on bi net-ma lier.
Norwalk. Aug. 8. 11848‘.-
om. BISCUIT, Milk Biscuit. Boston,
Crackers, Butter Biscuit, 'ust. received -ii ad
fo1'sale_at. B RRA-L_L}S_.‘
317
Published Every Hlcdncsday Moi-ni g,
\/\/\/\/\/\ I
llloctrii.
U§‘Froin a. volume cfpoeins in the course of
publication by G. P. Putnam, N. Y. and .written
He has
the real music in his soul, like ourself, but while we
1 50 could never get it our with all our straining, our
_more fortunate compeer cannot keep it ia—itflows
so easy that it will rtin out in spite of himself. The
difference might becoiisidcred in our favor by some
however. had he not perpetrated the following :
LEGEND OF BETKIEL ROCK.
Our poets sing of other days.
Of ot.her lands and sons of fame,
And beautifully too, they praise, ,
,, Tliiit sweetest. feeling earth ma y claiiii
The love that binds two hearts in one,
And gives the sweetest bliss that's known,
The charm that seems to rob the earth
Of every thing that's sad or stelrii,
And make the world a world of miith,
And each heart with its beauty burns
Yet have we not for this our land,
Nor for its charms ii feeling sweet,
That doth the poet’s verse coniinaud,
O1‘ give his heart a livelior beat;
\Ve spurii the beauteous round us here,
\Ve spam the tales she hath for fiinie,
And turning from the lovelier,
Let ctliers wake the poet's flame.
The lovelier !——ali, tell us now,
If fairer lands there be than ours’!
01' lhose that. should the poet know,
Or wake the spirit.’s loftier powers’!
Are there subliiner hills than these,
That fling their proud tops to the sun?
\V,liispers elsewhere e sweeter breeze,
Than doth among our forests run ?
Or canyon find a prouder flow
lilsewliere, of cataract. and ri'ver‘—'—
Niagara with its golden bow,
And its loud thunder roaring ever?
01' can ye gaze on waves that play,
BI'igl1_ler or tiiirer than have we. .
\Vhere bash our broad lakes to the day,
Or rock to all heaAdn’s breezes free "I
And where stand you on prouder sI1Ul'(.‘-S,
And look iifar oc’r ocean vast,
And mark a prouder flood that pours
Beneath you with each furious blast?
01' where look you on soft seas, l<iss’d
By softer breezes than come‘o'.er
The waves of gold and amethyst, _
To cool the sweet leaves on the shore :
And lose themselves in bowers of bloom,
Rubbing the fragrant odors tl_1eI't‘,
Till sky and earth are all perfume,
‘And burden'd is the quiet air?
All. ye may fly to sunny France,
And sing her valesaud viuy liills,
And ye may tell how softly dance
The waters of italian rills ;
And ye may pass the “ Golden Hernia’
. And lose yourself in Asian bowers.
And tell us wliere, on soft winds borne,
There nothing is but sweets of flowers ;
Or ye may., with n niaster hand,
Flyto lone Isles in fatlicrest seas,
And tell us of the breezes bland,
vTl1at come up from the sea. o’er these ;
And tell us there of blushing hills.
And tell of golden buwcrs and groves,
And sing ofgusliiiig founts and rills,
And all a poet's fancy loves;
And spreading lakes, and Eden shores,
And skies of light, and birds of song,
From whose wild threats of music pours
A flood ofsweetness all day long ;—
Yet shall we come in fancy here—
Still say our own land boasts a light
As beautit'nl—aiid heavens as clear—
And spreading scenes as gay and bright;
And offers all the bard requires,
To wake his heart with wildest thrill,
And stir up Poesy’s sweetest ii res,
And every sense with music till.
A little lay have we to sing,
A simple tale of love and pain;
A hope with sweetest blossoming,
Yet where did never fruit remain;
At lBtlSI'..l_)U fruit but such as gives
A sense like ashes to the taste,
\Vherejoy a single instanr lives,
Only to bring a deeper waste.
There is in the sweet vale where I
First saw the liglit—or near to this-—-
A proud old hill that'rises high,
In which a strange rough rock there is ;
A grove of beauty spreads around,
There sings the bird the longday Ihro’
And wood-flowars start oe‘r all the ground
Drunk with the moisture and the dew ;
The forest throws its proudest arms
Over the place, up-towering high :
A nd down there, scarce the power ofstorms
Coming with its fierce energy.
Can sweep the grass and gay wood-flowers
That deck the turf like Eden's bowers.
This same rough rock towers up one side,
\Vithin this place——a sheer bare cliff
Looks down a hundred feet in pride—
Perhaps there’s less of it—yet if
You will come to the grove, and look
From 011' that precipice, the eye
VVill scarce a single instant brook
Its wild and dark vacuity.
Yet is the rock’s proud top a place,
\Vhere one would love to sit and muse ;
For over you and round with grace,
The forest is with charms profuse ;—
Up the proud trunks the vines have run,
And gaudiest. flowers startoutfrom these
And mosses brighter than the sun,
Circle the‘ rocks and rooted trees;
And to that place, from distance borue,_
A mimic cataract is heard, ,
Mingling. its voice with note of bird,
From day till eve, from eve till morn.
\Vhen had the valley scarcely been
Snatch’d from l.he red men mastei-s here,-
And came the fiirsti pale crowd of men
Into the wilderness then dreur ;
The pa-stor of that rough stern flock, .
A little flower brought with him mild’-——"
One that might never hear life"s shock,-
A flower indeed in: it‘ strange wild ;.
A daughter this—--froin la-nds afar
She had come to’ this Western scene ;
That father's single earthly star-—
It ever made his sky serene;
It shone in beauty like the‘ light? I
That streams fresh from the morning bright.-
To this still‘ place among the hide‘
The early race-"did oft. retii'e--
\Vher,e;. awed-;by every thing that fill
The heart. and brings its purest tire,-.
\/'\/\./ \/\;‘\/\/\/\l\/'\./\/‘../\l\—’\f\/
In the sweet solitude——they _kn‘e5lt
. l3ef'oi-e the God that lirouglit them o'er
The heaving soas—and t.here they felt
His Spirit come with double power;
For back they could turn into life,
The better fitted for its strife. _
It chanced this little flower-—the daughter,
Soon learned to love this solitude;
And oft. she, wooe’d by wind and water,
\Vould turn aside into the wood; _
And there long hours ‘of sweetness pass,
In that sweet solitude—tliat was.
Soon learn’d she, with a new delight,
To love all there that L\'a'ture hath ;
The spreading vale. the mountain height,
The summer sky, and e’en its wrath;
(For oft she loved on this high earth
To mark the storm-cloud rusliingforth,) [her
But most she loved the sweet flowers round
And green leaves of that holy wood ;
Till every holy feeling bound her,
That charms the heart in solitude.‘
\Ve know not how it chanc'd—-—but there,
As evening shot into the place,
An Indian boy gazed on that fair,
Sweet. creature in her childish grace;
A child of that stem stock that late
Had call’d these lordky hills its own;
And there was something nobly ‘great,
In that proud form and eye that shone!
How long he gazed we may not say.
How oft he came at that still liour,
To see again that halluw’d ray [i)0Wi‘3l';
Oflight, that seem’d t’ have come with
A light he never saw before,
A light that dccl<’rl the heavens o’er;
A liglit that. made the fair earth smile, .
\Vl'iii:h else had been but dark the. while;
A light that gave to every thing, gr ,
Sky. wind, and cloud—and day, and night‘
A glory like the waking Spring. __ .
’N9ath which he wander’d with delight!
Yet this we know, that forest c11ild—
The last proud eagle of his rock-—_
Loved no uiore the rude warfare wild,
That is the glory of his stock;
He loved the solitude. alone, ,_
He loved the mountain-side-—its thought;
And oft alone, he made his mean,
In the new language Love had taught;--
Yet shrunk lie from the gaze of men,
And shrunk be from the light of (lay ;
And the rude Indians look’d with pain, .
To see his proud form waste away ;
That he, the g‘ory ofihcir band———
The eaglet loft. oftlicir dead sii'e-
Should pass thus to the spirit’s land ;'
The Indian Prophets would retire
To the old groves and prophecy
The whole of their proud race must. die: —
For He, the Goniusof their race,
\Vas wroth with them—-and hid his face.
The youth was miss’d—the tribe were gone——
That lovely pale-faced maiden too,
She had been snatchc’d from lieiiven’s suu—
A horror pass’d the valley through ;
And scarce the white man dared to say,
I-Iow had the maiden pa:ss’d away.
It chanc’d, as Summer pass’d afar-
Aiituinn had come and gone—and o'er
The woizld had \Vinter driven his car,
And came the pleasant Spring once moi'e;
And melted off among the hills '
The hills ofsnovv the storm piled there,
And shouted loud the swollen rills.
Rushing forth to the balmy air;
Seine white inen—~huntei's——piissing by
This rock’s base in the solitude,
And casting there it careless eye.
As streamed the light into the wood-
Lo! at that base, locked heart to heart,
The Indian boy and maiden lay;——
Life did not, nor could cold Death part
B carts that. seem'd made for each, for aye:
And there, and cold and stiff, ‘mid blooms
Just coming once more to the earth,
And young bowers wasting first perfumes
On merry breezes travelling forth, '
They wei'e—t.lio while men turned away,
They scarce could gaze upon their clay.
It is supposed they met and loved—) ['know;
Loved with that life young hearts may
And as their union would have Proved
A bliss to none, but only woe—— I
A brief bliss-liour they had and cherish’d,
And then together thus had perish’d.
\Vho wanders there amid the wood,
Led by the simple story there,
Will find within the solitude,
A small white heap of stones—the' air,
They say, at eve oft hears a mono,
As of the youthful spirits gone.-
NOTE.
This is a versification of one’ out of half a
dozen legends connected with the famous rock
in the writer’s native village, VVoodbnry, Ct.
The real, veritable history of the place is the
following. In the early history of the town,
the Puritan fathers and mothers who assembled
at 0 church in ii neighboring valley, Sabbath
mornings, would ramble off into the woods dur-
ing the intermissiou at noon, where a beautiful
resting place was found in the deep woods, near
the top of a magnificent range of rocks, and
where, under as glorious a canopy as was ever
“ fashioned without hands," they became ac-
customed to hold prayer meetings. The place
was named by them as aaove, and has always’
retained this name".
filistclluitp.
line. Throw a table spoonful of yellow
;snruff among a bushel of oysters and the
uirsuspectiiig bivalves will uneontinently
sneeze themselves out of the shell! The
‘Boston Mail thinks they had better try it
g “ May I be married, mother 2” said
.a'- brunette of sixteen to her mainma.
“Ma-rried!" repea-ted’ the astonished
mother, “‘ for what reason 'l” “ Why me,
the’ children have never seen a wedding,
and I'-, think a marriage‘ miglit please
them.-’’
[7 Avoid ihe'~‘painful_ delayof jfustice;
and the perversion thereof.-
by BYINGTON at H
J\/\/\
. The. "mist ,'ab°I s"v"'g ."'ve“"°“ 'si dy from every songster of the garden and
vastly important to persons in the oyster!
0111', at T... Dollar
NORWALK, CT. WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1848.
From. (lie .7\'ei.'.i Yo"r7c .E'l.'(I77,gl:ffb'f.
LAM./IRTINE.
No. 1.
BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
There are two classes of characters
which continually attract our observation,
those in which the material, and those in
!which the spiritual predominates. The
one lives mainly in the world of fact, the
_other in the world of thought and feeling.
|The one is merry, joyous, and lays no -
ling deeply to heaii, is uusnseeptible of
‘intense affection, but can flit from friend
;to friend, and from joy to joy, as the but-
terfly, beauteous creation of the sunlight,
flits from flower to flower. The other is
pensive, with a strain" of mournfulness
vibrating upon all the chords of the spirit,
attuned, like the wires of the Eolian harp,
onlylto plaintive melody. The full soul
be8tY'i"S'l.l'll'Dl)gIl a moistened eye, in the
ever);_liour of. true happiness, in every
emotion of soul-ab'sorbin’g affection.
Those ‘’of the first class are far bett;-.r
adapted to eiie_ountcr the storms and the
‘conflicts of 's'ii._'ch a world as this. Those
of the latter class have richer joys, and
deeper sorrow,,and a noble nature.
Alphonse de Lamartine, who has re-
cently occupied so prominent a position
in France, presents, in his attractive cha-
racter, a very striking illustration of the
man who lives in the world of intellect
mid feeling. And it is the fervor of his
glowing soul, which has enabled him to
exert an influence, so fascinating, over
nearly all human hearts. He was in in-
fancy rocked in the cradle of storms.
The French Revolution swept, like a tor-
nado, over the fortunes of the family,
’whelming them in irrecovernble rain.
The sensitive littlefboy wept, with almost
a bursting heart, as his imagination fol-
lowed his father to the dungeons of a
prison, where he was for a long time im-
mured. More serene days, however, suc-
ceeded these months of woe, and the im-
poverished parents, gathering the wrecks
of their shattered hopes, led their child to
an obscure but rural retreat, where, upon
the green lawn of the farm house, and
under the shade of majestic linden trees,
and upon the margin of a rustling brook,
where the ducklings fed and swam, the
poetic boy, ever surrendered himself to
reverie, passed a tranquil and happy
childhood.
Happy indeed is the child who liasa
7710!/l(“I‘, a real mot/zcr—not one who merely :
nurses and caresses and dresses her infant,
as a modern fashionable fondles her
poodle dog, but one who has a mind and
a heart to inspire the soul of her child
with feeling, to create within him l-'YllY)t)1‘-
tal desires, to ennoble his intellectual
nature with lofty hopes nnd aspirations.
such a mother had Luinartiiie. Her noble
spirit was fused in his. She has been and
still is, even from her celestial home, the
guardian angel of his life. '
“My mother,” says Lamartine, “re~
ceived from her mother, on the pillow of
death, a beautiful Bible, in which she
taught me to read when I was a little
child. That Bible had engravings on
sac red subjects, on every page. VVhen I
had recited my lesson well, and read with
few errors, the half page of sacred history
my mother uncovered the engraving, and
holding the book upon her knees, prompt.-
ed me to look, and explained it to me for
my recompense. The silvery, affection-
ate sound, solemn and passionful, of her
voice, gave to every sentiment she uttered
a powerful, charming and love-like accent,
and those soft, impressive tones ring,
even now,,in my ears, after years of si-
lence." ,
It was by the side of his mother that
this beautiful buy, his little liaud elapsed
in hers, and his large b'.ue eye glistening
with emotion, imbibed from the word of
God, the first. inspirations of poetry, and
was led to those inward commuiiings
which have rendered his career through
life so illustrious. But as time passed on,
the boy still in his early years, was sent
to the pensive solitudes of the cloister, to
attend to his collegiate education, under
the tuition of grave and melancholy
monks. In that seclusion into which no
sound of this world's turmoil penetrated,
where noon-day cast but dim twilight into
the sombre cells of the world-renouncing,
where chaunts and anthems, matins and
vespers. paternosters and Ave Matias,
alone diversified the monotonous hours,
the spirit of Lamartine reveled in con-
genial, yet melaneholy joys. His own
thoughts were his world. In that alone
he lived. The storms which howled
around the venerable towers of the" mon-
astery ; the moonbeains which slept upon
the graves of the departed brothers; the
cheerful sunlight of the warm spring
morning, which awoke the voice of melo-
of the grove, were but the excitemeiits of
those inward thoughts—-stimulants to that
luxury of emotion in which Lamertine
lived and moved and had his being. From
these sombre scenes of reverie and of
study, Lamartine emerged into the noisy
and" tumultuous world, all unprepared for
the perilous encounter with its tempta-
tions. . .
A heart like that of Lamartine must
have, besides its God, a congenial heart,
whose spirit shall blend in kindred sym-
pathy with hisown.-— Such an one he
soon found in Elvira.‘i.’I-ler soul, ardent,
sincere and passionfuhthrobbed in unison
s Per Annum in Advance.
—-‘---"-—-~--- -—-- . I - . .- .-.1:'. _ _.._-
own. Tliey mei, but to be attracted to
each other by a resistless pow er. To
her the ardent youth surrendered his
soul, with the homage almost of adora.
iion. She was the whole wurldto him.
A young man of sucha temperament,
loves with an intensity which is almost
agonizing. His spirit strugales to escape
from the fetters of its material bondage,
to blend in celestial affinity, with the ob-
ject of its idolatry. In the dreams of
night and the reveries of day, theimage
of the loved one entraces every faculty of
the soul, in a delirum from which there
is no escape. The habit of study—the
high culture of reflective powers-.—past
indulgence in imagination and reverie, do
but give new energy toithis all absorbing
passion, liixuriating in the mysterious
depths of the human soul. Love! who
has yet understood its power? It is the
essence of Diety! It is the r lemerit of
heaven! -- It is the soul of piety ! , It is
the bliss, an'd..the bane of earth, the most
terrible and agitating passion which can
wreck the soul of man. and the most
voluptuous.opiate which can lull it to
serenity and peace. The more one's na-
ture is ennobled and purified, the more
resistless is the power with which this
iapulse, celestial in its origin, wiil en-
thrall all its energies. Well has the Latin
poet exclaimed, .
“Iniprobiis armor! quid non inortalia pectora
cogis?"
The soul of the youthful Lainartine
was thus moved in every fibre of its be-
iiig, when death came and snatched
Elvira from his arms. The poet was
prostrated and crushed as by a blow from
heaven. In delirium he moaned upon his
pillow in restless despair. Months of
gloom and woe rolled heavily along, and
not one gleam of light penetrated the
midnight of his grief. Stricken and wan
in his sick chamber, he took his pen and
began to meili/ate. His pensive imagin-
ingsflinved forth in mournfnl, yet tuneful
nu-nbers. Week after week, he sought a
melanclioly solace for his woe, in giving
poetic expression to his blighted love and
his desolation.
And now the stricken youth tottered
forth from his chamber, eiiiaciaie and pal-i
lid, with a blurred and blotted manuscript"
of poems in his hand, entitled '.\Ieditatioiis-
He went from bookseller to bookseller,
with his uiiattraclive offering. Who in:
this busy world, and above all, in gay and;
fi'iVuluu:.. I’-.iris, wisnes to ineditate! He}
at last, almost discouraged by the manyl
repulses he had received, entered the shop
of M. Nicolle. The attention of the pub-
lisher was immediately arrested by the
,r_ri'-ace and pensive aspect of the youth.
He spoke tohirn kindly, and condescend-
ed to look into his manuscript. It xv-as
the first gleam of eiieourageinent he had
received, for no one else had deemed his
poems worthy of a look. ;\l. Nicolle
opened the sheets and read,
“ When falls iiilo the meadow the uiitiiinii forest
leaf,
The evening breeze uplifts it and whirls it to
the vale;
And I, alas. resciiible that fading leaf of grief,
Like it I am borne along, by the stormy north-
erii gale."
The pensive strain touched a responsive
chord, in the heart of the publisher. He
read on, page after page, charmed by the
inouriiful melody which sorrow l.:'i(l awoke
among the heart strings of the inourner.
The Meditations were printed, and with-
out ame, and without interest were
thrown into the bustling world. But the
spirit which had indited them had dwelt
in the profonndest depths of human’ na-
ture, and responsive echoes were awak-
ened in almost every heart. The dirge-
like strains penetrated the theatre", the
saloon and the cafe. Paris, this world's
throbbing heart ofsentiment and passion,
was entraucetl. In a short time 45,000" of
the Meditations were circulated, and the
name of Lamartine was emblazoned across
the sea. '
Beautifully has it been written of these
Poetic Meditiitioiis, “ Your soul is moved;
you have procee(li_-d further; the emotion
has redoubled; you have wept; you have
hid up the book under your cushion, that
you may re-read it again ;- for that chaste
melancholy, and veiled love, 'twas yours;
that reverie, soft and sweet, it was yours;
that thought, sometimes smilliiig, some-
times funereal, passing from despair to
hope, from dejection to enthusiasm, from
the Creator to the creature; a thought
vague, uncertain and floating, it was your
l
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VOLUME .31-.\’",.Tl\ll5l£R -19.!
T
TlI:tI'i'iml I-‘villas’ -.\'e\V !l.eH.i.-r H‘ rite-1'-',
The Pliiladelphia Sunday fteepatch
'll]lnl.‘S the new law to secure to married
women their rights to property is destined
?to revolutionize the hymenial relations in
ithat.State. The old fashioned idea that
ithe interests of wedded couples should be‘
’one and indivisible will soon become ob-'
solete. In the state of New York, as well}
,its handat doing the agreeable in the may’
as Pennsylvania,- the Legislature has tried
lof guarding the rights of the weaker sex.-
iA Woman's Convention was receiitly held-
at. Waterloo, New York, ‘which put forth
a solemn declaration of i,ndep'ender'icé',i
much in the phraséology of that of '76,?
and claimed to exercise the right of suf-
frage, legislate, and be the equals of Ifléfli
in all political and civil matters. This
country will soon be as fa‘m'o'u's for its con-.
ventions of both sexes and all shades of
4
,versal annexation.
the reader froin seeing ‘samples of“ Mar-_‘
under the law. Here they are-
LETTER l.—Fi-om (1. Iiusbaml to /BIS wifé
as-king for a cool fifty. I‘
“Faun THE STORE, lllcrket st), I I-L'o"c‘lo'cI<-'
“ DEAR JaNE.—I'm confouudedly short‘
to-day, having Jenkin~’s note to take up,-
week, and will then refund it. I wait, ,
“ Your dearest, CI-I".-antics."
LETTER ‘.2—From a wzfe wlio knows /ref
'I“lg/118 lo a delinquent husband;
“ Ar Hoii1s——Quarter before, 2}
“ DEAR CIIAltLES.——I am astonished that’-
you should come to me for money, after’
the manner you have acted. I lent you
ten dollars last week, which you were to‘
return the next day. I did no‘! hear a word
from you for three days a."te'rwa‘rds'. Be-‘
sides that, i gave you fifty cents yesterday’
pay at evening—I have not seen it yet.—‘‘
[I should judge from these facts that you’,
are ‘hard up,’ and not to be trtisted. If
you are in failing circumstances, I've no
dispo.-ritioii to lose by you. If you are‘
mucli in want of money, I'll shave’ your"
note with a good errdorser at three per
cent. a month. if you like this proposi-
tion, send up the note_wit.h an endorsement
—say Snooks ; I suppose‘ he'll endorse for-‘
you; you're always togétliéf. Let it be‘
done right away, for I've got my bank
book ready, and want to make a de’po‘site'.-
Yours, J.mE-.-”
Ll£’l‘l‘l-‘.R 3.—— The /iusbanrZ's reply."
"Faun: Tiii-1 S'I"0'RE--L‘ o'clock.
“DEAR JANi2—-'l‘l'iis is no time for jest-1
bn_-:. If I do not get the $50 today, I shall
be ruined; my credit will be gone, and
everything brought to the h'uinm'er. The’
very house will be sold over our heads‘:
Please send me the money immediately.‘
This is a poor fulfilment of the love yotf
pledged at the altar. Yours, CHARLES."
LE'1"1‘I-‘.R 4-.-—T/ie Wz_'fe’s ./9'/zswe-r.
Ar HoME——Quarte'r past 2.‘
“Dean CHARLES :—As a frz'e7’zd I an?
heartily sorry to hear of your troubles;
However, it's n~otb'ing m‘o‘re_than I expect-'
ed. If you do‘ fail, my advice to‘ you is‘
to b'ea‘r up under your sorrows; there is
nothing like a stout heart to buoy one up‘
in’ afiliciioii. If the house is sold bv the‘
sheriff, I. have one cons'olati'on, that can‘
remove to my own. In regard to your"
unkind insinuation about the love which I‘
pledged at the altar,‘ I beg to remind you’
that I prornised to love "you aceordiagro‘
law, and the law allows me to manage my
own‘ property in my own way.’ ‘owever,
as you can't get an endorser,I won't be‘
hard upon you. Send me your note for"
$50 at sixty days and $ I00 worth of silks‘
as collateral, and I'll send you the $50.--'
Hurry home, dinner's waiting.
Yo‘urs,- ' JANE’.
a ‘responsible’ m7_'fe to d‘
tailor. .
“ MR. SHEARS: Sir :—Tlie bearer of
this is my husband, who wants two pair‘
spring panialoons. Please let him have‘
them and charge the same to my account.‘
SUSAN SIl.Yl_£R._
“ N. B. I'll not pay higher tha‘u"$‘3l‘2. fOl.:
the two. If you allow him to exc'eed'tliat"
amount, you do so on your‘ own‘ risk.
“ S. S.”
LETLER 5.—F7'om
First Rate.———'I’lie’ Philadelphia City’
thoiigiit—to you-—to us—to all; it was
the thought of the age, which has been
hived up in the depths of the soul, and
which, at last, had found a language and
a form; and what form! a rhythm of
celestial melody, a ringinrg verse, full of
cadence, and sound which vibrates as
sweetly as an :Eolian harp trembling in
the evening breeze."
(To be Continued.)
“I live in Carolina's eyes," said George
to a bystander. “I don't wonder at it,”
replied the bystander, “since I observed
she had :1 stye in them.”
“ Wife," said a married man, looking
for his boot jack after she was in bed, “ I
have a place for all things and you ought
to know it." “ Yes,” said she, “I ought
to know where you keep your. late.
hours.”
“ Whose soniare you, my little boy 7"
“I ain't n/obody’s son just irow. .l-'m= Mr.
T hoin pson's‘ nephe w,. sir.”
with every emotion which glowed in his
- l
‘Item 'tells the following’ story" which is"
,capit::l ;‘ all love lurn swains who are too‘
nervous to “ pop the question," may take’
courage now,-and‘ do the thing" np'in‘a'
teal business’-like style.
l Ajfew nights‘ back a party of gentlemen"
and ladies were laughing over the sup"-‘
pused awkwardness attending a" declara-‘
ration of love, whéri agentleman remark-
ed that if he ever o'fl'er'éd‘ himself he‘
would do it in a basin ss‘-like manner.‘
“ For instance,” he'c€bntin'uéd, address-'
ing: himself to a lady present, I would say,-
“ Miss S-—, I have been two years looking
for.a wife, I am in the receipt‘ of about a
thousand dollars a year from my business,-
which is daily on the inci-ease; Of all‘
the ladies of my acquaintance, I admire‘
you the most; indeed I love you' and
would gladly make you my wife." __
“ You flatter me by your preference,"
good humoredly replied‘Miss S-—, to the
surprise of all present; “ I refer you to‘?
my father.” _
The lady and gentlemen, good_"reader,
. were married in October.
color as it is for aggr'essive wars and uni’-“i
But we are keeping’
ried Folks’ New Letter Writer," issued.
and um deucedly afraid of_ a‘ _ pro‘test.——-fl
Please send me a check for $50 by beareir: -
I exhect money from ll-’Iuddle's draft next,
to get tobacco, which you promised to re‘-‘ ‘
Norwalk Chronicler