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Ters, as if he were totally unconcerned at the alt, and was waiting the event only as a matter curiosity. It is the first effect of the opiate, openg on his own will and changing his own active gle against the control of pain, to a passive aciousness, that the contest is taken out of his ds by a power abler than himself, who will fight sbattles for him. He lies then a calm, though refal spectator-above and beyond the terrible at within him-a third, distinct consciousness bout him.

The pain is all that struggles. It darts its arrows hem afar or fights a hand to hand conflict. The modyne does not struggle-does not even surge as moves onward. It is the slow progress of the mwollen river, rising in its strength and still pressgonward. The citadel of the pain is reached : 51 more sorties from the garrison, they begin to feel me soporific influence of the embattled foe, marchng onward in its slow, measured, painless tread. Sometimes the disease rallies, and touching some Etherto concealed nerve, sends dismay through the stem, and drives the opiate off its defences, and a most rouses you from your semi-conscious state, and teaches you that you have some interest in the salt. But the anodyne is not defeated or disheartmed. It presses on even to the newly aroused terve, bathes it in its healing, soothing influences, conquers its irritation and calms it into quietude. The pain succumbs—the balmy influences of gentle deep begin to steep your senses in unconsciousness. The last that you feel is that you are floating on the alm lake with which the opiate has surrounded ron, thankful that something beyond your own fforts has co nquered your late harsh enemy.

The Rich and the Poor.

A writer remarks that, take their whole lives through, the rich suffer more than the poor, and in reality enjoy less. Where one poor man undergoes the pains resulting from the want of food, there are en rich men who are suffering from diseases that are the legitimate fruits of excess. The gout infirts more pain on the human race than starvation does. Drunkenness is a greater enemy to mankind than penury. It produces more actual and positive distress. How often are the rich obliged to undergo the evils of the deprivation of food, because exhausted nature compels them by her suffering, to do it. How much more relishing is the crust and the water to the hungry poor, than the most luxuricas feast to the rich! How much more real enjoyment in the one case than in the other.

So in dress: the poor bring on distempers that consign them to the grave, by their thinness of clothng and exposure to the changes of the weather, it is true. But count the troops of thin, pale damsels among the rich who are crowding rapidly towards the grave, from the same cause-precisely the same canse-want of proper clothing to shield them from the inclemencies of the winter's storms. Are there

hat as many of the rich that suffer pain, undergo disease, and finally meet death, from thin shoes, as mong the poor from going barefoot? Pride has her victims, as well as penury. Fashion can rect ber triumphant pyramid of skulls, as well as want. The poor widow, who dies under the pangs of lung ever, because she was necessitated to go to her rerk with but a thin shawl, suffers no more than the fashionable maiden, who dances in a warm m with no covering over her white shoulders, and then rushes to the cold air for temporary comrt, and dies in a week of the same complaint. The instances of the one are as numerous as those the other.

The same principle is true in fuel and warmth

as many children of the rich dwindle and die from the want of proper ventilation and the breathing over of impure gases, as there are of the children of the poor who suffer and sink under the pressure of cold.

We might carry these illustrations farther, but food, fuel and clothing are the three great sources of want, and are sufficient.

The Beard.

A curious festival was held in honor of the Beard and in support of the movement in favor of wearing it, at Chicago, a few days ago. It is believed to be the first festival ever held in honor of that hirsute appendage. It was called "the bearded ball," and no gentleman was admitted without "some hairy honor to his face." Of course, the movement is too recent to require every man to wear the whole beard-hence some had the moustache alone; some the lower beard alone; some sported the dark, glossy whisker, with an otherwise smooth face-a whisker, the very polish of whose hairs told the perfection of the dye; while others appeared whose whole faces were covered with the incipient efforts of a new beard, in their white sprinklings of bristles where the chin and the cheek had hitherto been kept well shorn, so that altogether it looked like a stubble field, or a hemlock swamp after a fire, the charred stumps only being visible. How the ladies approved of the effort does not appear. Many of them have already declared that "they shall set their faces against" any such innovation. At the supper table, many toasts were given, and speeches made, denunciatory of shaving. Among the rest, ⚫ was the following:

MAN-Full grown, bearded, nature's great master work; too noble to be barefaced, too perfect to be botched by the bungling of barberism.

The entertainment closed with "the Bearded Quadrille," a dance made for the occasion. How opinions change on the subject of the Beard! In Cicero's time, to shave or trim the beard was a sign of dandyism. In describing the followers of Cataline, the Orator hits off the Exquisites of the day who had joined him, as "imberbes, aut bene barbati,"-beardless or with beards well trimmed.Among our Gothic ancestors on the shores of the Baltic, a young man could not have the privilege of being shaved, until he could show the head of an enemy, killed by his own prowess.

FOR THE COURANT.

Dentistry-Its Introduction and Progress in the United States.

Amid war's strife and carnage, streaming through the smoke of booming cannon, mingling with the bright glistenings of clashing swords, we see the first faint glimmerings of the dawning light of our profession in the New World. According to our best information, the first Dentist who came to this country was a man by the name of Le Mair, who accompanied the French army that so nobly came to our aid at the time of our revolutionary struggle. Soon after his arrival, a Dentist by the name of Whitlock came from England, and to them is said to belong the honor of first introducing the art of Dental Surgery in the United States. The extent of their abilities is not known, though supposed to. have been limited, their operations consisting for the most part in carving artificial teeth from blocks of ivory. The first native American Dentist, it is supposed, was a Mr. John Greenwood, who commenced practice in New York about the year 1788, and in 1790 is said to have been the ouly Dentist in that city. And here I think it will be interesting to remark that about the year 1790 Mr. Greenwood executed an entire denture for Gen. Washington, which were said to be equal in their ingenious design and beauty to any of the artificial teeth in Europe at that time. As usual at that period, the teeth were carved from ivory, and confined in the mouth with spiral springs. I cannot but think Mr.

Greenwood must have felt proud in numbering the great Father of his country among his patrons.Soon after this time, a Dr. Spence who had received some instructions from Le Mair, commenced prac tice in Philadelphia, and about the year 1794, a Mr. Woofendale from London, joined Mr. Greenwood in New York; and also in the mean time, some French and English Dental works were brought over, which contributed in no small degree to awaken the zeal and increase the energies of the few who were already here, laboring amid the difficulties and obstacles of an as yet undeveloped art. It was not until the year 1800 that Dental Surgery "began to be cultivated as a science," or to receive its due consideration "as an important branch of the curative art." "The preservation of the natural teeth began now to be regarded as of more importance than the insertion of artificial ones." In the year 1800, we hear of a Dr. Hayden commencing practice in the city of Baltimore.For a period of about forty years after the introduction of Dental Surgery in the United States, those who joined the profession were for the most part, I believe, men of talent and professional abilities, consequently the ranks filled up slowly, and up to 1820 the number did not far exceed one hundred. But from this time, many joined the profession with but few or no qualifications for the calling, and in 1830 the number had increased to about three hundred, and in five years from the last named period, it had more than doubled. But lo! light appears, and an era, new and brighter than any before dawns upon the profession-the establishing of the American Journal and Library of Dental Science in 1839. "This was the rising of the morning star of improvement," and now we note for Dental Surgery a more brilliant career, and its rapid and astonishing progress towards perfection, has been unsurpassed by that of any other science, and is but characteristic of the progressive spirit of the American people. New discoveries, inventions and improvements, in the theory and practice of Dental Surgery have been constantly taking place, until now the art in the United States has well nigh reached the very acme of scientific and artistic perfection. We can proudly compare the work of our hands with that of any in the world. Our gold fillings, beautiful and durable, and our artificial teeth,combining in the highest degree, beauty and utility, are not surpassed by any in Europe. We have our Dental Colleges, which are exerting an elevating and salutary influ ence, not only upon the profession here, but also in Europe we have our elaborately written works, our quarterlies and monthlies, and it is no strange thing to see a weekly periodical, edited and published by a Dentist. I think there is something beautiful in contemplating the introduction of Dental Surgery, its progress and rapid and brilliant career in the United States; and it is pleasant and flattering for us to know, that nowhere in the world does the art shine brighter, than with the reflected light of American genius.

As to the number of Dentists in the United States at the present time, I can only say, it is legion. In the city of New York, there are about three hundred, in other cities the profession is well filled, and almost every town and village big enough to keep a Doctor, can also boast of their dentist.

Miscellaneous.

Battle of Balaklava.

A. N.

The Earl of Cardigan, who headed the charge of the British cavalry, thus describes that bloody fight:

Unfortunately our allies, the Turks, abandoned their position in a very short time, without maintaining any contest with the enemy. It was late in the afternoon when I received an order to attack the Russian forces posted in the valley, which consisted of a long line of guns drawn up in the form of batteries. I received that order, my Lord Mayor, and I obeyed it. (Loud cheers.) I delivered that order myself to the brigade under my command. I ordered them to march. I ordered them to advance. I ordered them to attack the Russians in the valley; but, my Lord, I must say this, that on that occasion. it being my duty to give the order to my men, I did it, though I deeply regretted it at the time, and I am sure I should have much more deep

ly regretted it afterwards if anything had prevented my performing the rest of my duty, which was to share the dangers that those brave men so boldly faced. (Cheers.) My Lord, whatever danger those men incurred, I shared it with them. (Cheers) We advanced down a gradual descent of more than three-quarters of a mile, with the batteries vomiting forth upon us shells and shot, round and grape, with one battery on our right flank and another on the left, and all the intermediate ground covered with the Russian riflemen; so that when we came to within a distance of fifty yards from the mouths of the artillery which had been hurling destruction upon us, we were, in fact, surrounded and encircled by a blaze of fire, in addition to the fire of the riflemen upon our flanks. As we ascended the hill the oblique fire of the artillery poured upon our rear-so that we had thus a strong fire upon our front, our flank, and our rear. We entered the battery-we went through the battery-the two leading regiments cutting down a great number of the Russian gunners in their onset. (Cheers.) In the two regiments which I had the honor to lead, every officer, with one exception, was either killed or wounded, or had his horse shot under him. or injured. Those regiments proceeded, followed by the second line. consisting of two more regiments of cavalry, which continued to perform the duty of cutting down the Russian gunners. Then came the third line, formed of another regiment, which endeavored to complete the duty assigned to our brigade. I believe this was achieved with great success, and the result was that this body, composed of only about 670 men, succeeded in passing through the mass of Russian cavalry of (as we have since learned) 5,200 strong; and having broken through that mass, they went, according to our technical military expression "threes about," and retired in the same manner, doing as much execution in their course as they possibly could upon the enemy's cavalry. Upon our returning up the hill, which we had descended in the attack, we had to run the same gauntlet, and to incur the same risk from the flank fire of the Tiralleurs, as we had encountered before. Numbers of our men were shot downmen and horses were killed, and many of the soldiers who had lost their horses were shot dowu while endeavoring to escape. But what, my lord, was the feeling, and what the bearing of those brave men who returned to the position? (Here the noble and gallant officer's voice faltered, and he spoke with evident emotion.) Of each of these regiments (he continued) there returned but a small detachment, two-thirds of the men engag. ed having been destroyed; and those who survived, having arrived at the summit of the hill, whence they had commenced the attack but a short time before, could not refrain from giving three ringing cheers of triumph and rejoicing at the exploit which they themselves had performed (cheers)-for they had ridden over formidable Russian battery, and attacked a countless body of Russian cavalry in the rear. My lord, I understand it has been stated that the British cav alry are of a very inferior description, and require a thorough reform-that they are badly officered, being commanded by gentlemen of too high a rank in the country, and that they ought to be better officered. I can only say, that I do not think you will find any body of officers more careful of their men than thoso officers who now perform their duties in the cavalry regiments, or that you will find any regiments in the world where there is such a mutual attachment between officers aud men, as is the case in the British cavalry. (Hear, hear.) The officers are at all times perfectly ready to assist and to attend to the comforts of their men. The men, likewise, are so attached to their officers, that, wherev er those officers lead them in the cause of honor and glory, there those men are always sure to follow them. (Cheers.) In conclusion, my lord, I will only add that, in the minds of those who escaped the dangers of that terrible attack to which I have referred, there exist reflections of which they cannot divest themselves. I think that every man who was engaged in that disastrous affair at Balaklava, and who was fortunate enough to come out of it alive, must feel that it was only by a merciful decree of Almighty Providence that he escaped from the greatest apparent certainty of death which could possibly be conceived. (Loud cheers.) The noble earl (who was also very indistinctly heard) sat down by repeating his acknowledgments for the honor that had been done him.

8

The "Health of the Lord Mayor and the Lady Mayoress" and the other customary civic toasts, then followed after which the company separated.

ADMIRAL NAPIER.

The moment it was first reported (erroneously) that Sebastopol was taken, it was also said, 'Why does not Admiral Napier go and take Cronstadt and St. Petersburg?' In fact, I was asked, 'Why don't you go and take Moscow ?' (Laughter.) Now, I never did expect that the Admiralty would join in that clamor; I say, I certainly never expected that they would have been so mean and despicable as to join in that clamor, in order to bring odium on a naval officer who had done all in his power to bring honor and credit to his country. (Hear, hear.) What did I do? Why, I sent home to the Admiralty a clear and detailed account, stating my opinions and what appliances were necessary in order to take Sweaborg. (Hear.) You will not expect me to state what those opinions were. (Hear, hear.) Suffice it to say that I had given two separate opinions, one of which, if followed, I believed was certain to insure success, and the other, certain to bring destruction on the fleet. What did the Admiralty then do? I mention this in order that there may be no mistake whatever, because if the government have the least spirit about them they will immediately discharge me and turn me out of the service. I say that the Admiralty per verted my language. They not only did that, but they sent to me the most goading letters which they possibly could write. They asked me why I did not take Sweaborg, and why I did not do this, that, and the other? They received my letter, giving them an account of how Sweaborg might be taken, on the 4th of October, the very day on which the first intelligence reached England of the capture of Sebastopol. On the 9th of October-five days afterwards-the news arrived that Sebastopol was not taken; but the Admiralty had not the plain, straightforward dealing, or the honesty, to write to me and apologize. No; but what they did was this-they perverted what I had written, giving them a plan for the taking of Sweaborg. My lord, I was not going to stand that-(laughter and cheers); I am not the man to put up with an insult. I remonstrated most strongly, but, after all my remon strances, they still persisted in saying that I had led them astray. Well, what could I do? I was not going to be driven into all this, particularly as Sir J. Graham during the whole period I was in the Baltic had written to me admonishing me to beware of stone walls; telling me not to risk her Majesty's fleet against them: that these stone walls were not to be trusted; and reminding me that when I was first known to be going out to the Baltic I had been accused by certain persons of want of discretion, but assuring me that now, in his opinion, I had proved myself a consummate commander-inchief. After that came the most insulting and degrading letters to me ever addressed to an officer; and I mention this particularly in the hope that it will go forth to the world, and that Sir J. Graham will be prevented from ever sitting in the administration again as First Lord of the Admiralty. I state it to the public, and I wish them to know that had I followed the advice of Sir J. Graham, I should most inevitably have left the fleet behind me in the Baltic. I will prove this before all the world; and if Sir James Graham has oue single spark of honor in him, he will never again take his seat at the Admiralty until this matter is cleared up. On the other hand, I will say that I have no right ever to be employed again, and I ought, in fact, to be scratched off the Navy List, if I am not telling the truth in what I now state. (cheers) I am taking the first opportunity of making this statement publicly, and I am perfectly ready to answer for my couduct before the House of Commons whenever they choose to call upon me to do so. (cheers) The gallant admiral then concluded by again thanking the compa ny for the honor they had done him in drinking his health.

PLAIN LIVING.-The New England Society for the promotion of Manufactures and the Mechanic Arts, adopted the following good resolution at its late meeting, in Boston:

Resolved, That we earnestly desire that our people should keep up those habits of plain living and high acting, in which the foundations of New Englund Society were laid.

A Portrait from Life-Seth Woodsum's Wi Mr. Seth Woodsum was mowing one morning the lower haying field, and his eldest son, Obedi a smart boy of thirteen, was opening the mo grass to the sun; Mr. Woodsum looked up towar his house, and beheld his little daughter Harri ten years of age, running towards him with ber most speed. As she came up, he perceived s was greatly agitated; tears were running dov her cheeks, and she had scarcely breath enough speak.

'O, father,' she faintly articulated, 'mother dreadful sick; she's on the bed, and says she sh die before you get there.'

H

Mr. Woodsum was a man of sober, sound min and calm nerves: but he had, what sometimes ha pens in this cold and loveless world of ours a tend attachment for his wife, which made the message the little girl fall upon his heart like a dagger. dropped his scythe, and ran with great haste to th house. Obediah, who was at the other end of th field, seeing this unusual movement of his fathe dropped his fork and ran with all his might, an the two entered the house almost at the same tim

Mr. Woodsum hastened to the bedside, and too his wife's hand, 'My dear Sally,' said he 'what i the matter?'

'What is the matter?" echoed Mrs. Woodsu. with a plaintive groan. I shouldn't think yo would need to ask what is the matter, Mr. Wood

sum.

Don't you see I am dying?'

Why, no, Sally, you don't look as if you was dy ing. What is the matter? how do you feel?' 'Oh, I shan't live till night," said Mrs. Woodsum with a heavy sigh-'I am going fast.'

Mr. Woodsum, without waiting to make further enquiries, told Obediah to run and jump on to the horse, and ride over after Doctor Fairfield, and get him to come over as quick as he can come. Tell him I am afraid your mother is dying. If the Doctor's horse is away off in the pasture, ask him to take our horse and come right away over, while you go and catch bis.'

Obediah, with tears in his eyes, and his heart in his mouth, flew as though he had wings added to his feet, and in three minutes' time was mounted upon Old Gray, and galloping with full speed towards Doctor Fairfield's.

'My dear,' said Mr. Woodsum, leaning his head upon the pillow, 'how do you feel? What makes you think you are dying?' And he tenderly kissed her forehead as he spoke, and pressed her hand to his bosom.

'Oh Samuel,' for she generally called him by his Christian name when under the influence of tender emotion; 'Oh, Samuel, I feel dreadfully. I have pains darting through my head, and most all over me; and I feel dizzy and can't hardly see; and my heart beats as though it would come through my side-and, besides, I feel as though I was dying. I am sure I can't live till night; and what will be. come of my poor children?' And she sobbed heavily and burst into a flood of tears.

Mr. Woodsum was affected. He could not bring himself to believe that his wife was in such imme diate danger of dissolution as she seemed to appre hend. He thought she had no appearance of a dy. ing person; but still her earnest and positive declaration that she should not live through the day, sent a thrill through his veins, and a sinking to his heart that no language has power to describe. Mr. Woodsum was as ignorant of medicine as a child; he therefore did not attempt to do anything to relieve his wife except to try to soothe her feelings by kind and encouraging words,till the doctor arrived. The half hour which elapsed, from the time Obediah left till the doctor came, seemed to Mr. Woodsum an age. He repeatedly went from the bedside to the door, to look and see if the doctor was anywhere near, and as often returned to hear his wife groan and say she was sinking fast, and could not stand it many minutes longer.

At length Doctor Fairfield rode up to the door, on Mr. Woodsum's old Gray, and with his saddle-bags in hand, hastened into the house. A brief examination of the patient convinced him that it was a case of hypochondria, and he soon spoke encouraging words to her, and said though she was considerably unwell, he did not doubt she would be better in a little while.

'Oh, Doctor, how can you say so?' said Mrs. Woodsum: 'don't you see I am dying? I can't possibly live till night; I am sinking very fast, Doc

tar, and I shall never see the sun rise again. My heart sometimes almost stops its beating now and my feet and hands are growing cold. But I must see my poor children once more; do let 'em come in and bid me farewell.' Here she was overwhelmed with sobs and tears so as to prevent her saying

more.

The Doctor having administered the drugs in such case made and provided, is followed out by Mr. Woodsum, all anxiety to learn the real danger of the case. He is assured that it is only an attack of hypochondria, and the good lady herself ere long recovers.

Again and again, however, is our friend Seth summoned from his plow, and the Doctor from his pills, to administer consolation and relief in her dyisg hour, and again and again does she recover. We give below, the story of

DEATH S LAST ASSAULT.

At last, the sober saddening days of autumn came en, Mr. Woodsum was in the midst of his fall work, which had been several times interrupted by these periodical turns of despondency in his wife. One morning he went to his field early, for he had a heavy day's work to do, and had engaged one of his neighbors to come with two yoke of oxen and a plow to help him "break up" an old mowing

His neighbor could only help him that day, d he was very anxious to plow the whole field. He accordingly had left the children and nurse in the house, with strict charges to take good care of their mother. Mr. Woodsum was driving the team and his neighbor was holding the plow, and things went on to their mind till about ten o'clock in the forenoon, when little Harriet came running to the field, and told her father that her mother was dreadful sick, and wanted him to come in as quick as he could, for she was certainly dying now. Mr. Woodsum, without saying a word, drove his team to the end of the furrow; but he looked thoughtful and perplexed. Although he felt persuaded that her danger was imaginary, as it had always proved to be before, still the idea of the bare possibility that this sickness might be unto death, pressed upon him with such power, that he had laid down his goadstick, and telling his neighbor to let the cattle breathe awhile, walked deliberately towards the house. Before he had accomplished the whole distance, however, his imagination had added such wings to his speed, that he found himself moving at a quick run. He entered the house, and found his wife as he had so often found her before, in her own estimation, almost ready to breathe her last.Her voice was faint and low, and her pillow was wet with tears. She had already taken her leave of her dear children, and awaited only to exchange a few parting words with her dear husband. Mr. Woodsum approached the bedside, and took her hand tenderly, as he had ever been wont to do, but he could not perceive any symptoms of approaching dissolation, different from what he had witnes sed on former occasions.

'Now my dear,' said Mrs. Woodsum, faintly, the time has come at last. I feel that I am on my death bed, and have but a short time longer to stay with you. But I hope we shall feel resigned to the will of Heaven. I would go cheerfully, dear, if it was flot for my anxiety about you and the children.Now, don't you think, my dear," she continued with increasing tenderness, "don't you think it would be best for you to be married again to some kind, good woman, that would be a mother to our dear little ones, and make your home pleasant for all of you." She paused and looked earnestly in his face. 'Well, I've sometimes thought of late, it might be best,' said Mr. Woodsum, with a very solemn air.

Then you have been thinking about it," said Mrs. Woodsum, with a slight contraction of the muscles of the face.

'Why, yes,' said Mr. Woodsum, 'I have sometimes thought about it, since you've had spells of being so very sick. It makes me feel dreadful to think of it, but I don't know but it might be my duty.'

Well, I do think it would,' said Mrs. Woodsum. -If you can only get the right sort of a person.— Erery thing depends upon that, my dear, and I hope you will be very particular about who you get, very.'

I certainly shall,' said Mr. Woodsum; 'don't give yourself any uneasiness about that, my dear, for I assure you I shall be very particular. The person I shall probably have is one of the kindest and best tempered women in the world."

'But have you been thinking of any one in particular, my dear?' said Mrs. Woodsum, with a manifest look of uneasiness.

'Why, yes,' said Mr. Woodsum, 'there is one, that I have thought for some time past, I should probably marry, if it should be the will of Providence to take you from us.'

'And pray, Mr. Woodsum, who can it be?' said the wife, with an expression, more of earth than heaven, returning to her eye. Who is it, Mr. Woodsum? You havn't named it to her, have you?' 'Oh, by no means,' said Mr. Woodsum; 'but my dear, we had better drop the subject; it agitates you too much.

'But, Mr. Woodsum, you must tell me who it is; I never could die in peace till you do.'

It is a subject too painful to think about,' said Mr. Woodsum, and it don't appear to me it would be best to call names.'

'But, I insist upon it,' said Mrs. Woodsum, who had by this time raised herself up with great earnestness and was leaning on her elbow, while her searching glance was reading every muscle in her husband's face. Mr. Woodsum, I insist upon it.'

'Well, then,' said Mr. Woodsum, with a sigh, 'If you insist upon it, my dear, I have thought if it should be the will of Providence to take you from us, to be here no more, I have thought I should marry for my second wife, Hannah Lovejoy.'

An earthly fire once more flashed from Mrs. Woodsum's eyes-she leaped from the bed like a cat; walked across the room, and seated herself in a chair.

'What!' she exclaimed, in a trembling voice, almost choked with agitation-what! marry that idle, sleepy slut of a Hannah Lovejoy! Mr. Woodaum. that is too much for flesh and blood to bearI can't endure that, nor I won't. Hannah Lovejoy to be the mother of my children! No, that's what she never shall. So you may go to your plowing, Mr. Woodsum and set your heart at rest. Susan,' she continued, 'make up more fire under the dinner pot.'

Mr. Woodsum went to the field, and pursued his work, and when he returned at noon, he found dinner well prepared, and his wife ready to do the honors of the table. Mrs. Woodsum's health from that day continued to improve, and she was never afterwards visited by the terrible affection of hypochondria.-Way Down East, by Jack Downing.

SINGULAR EMOTION.-The following, written in an elegant business hand, was inscribed on the back of a five dollar bill lately received in New York from North Carolina :

"Here is a $5 bill which I intend to toss out of my window, in Norfolk, as soon as I have written this. I am now no lover of money. I hate it most cordially, for it has been the ruin of all my family. I will beg from door to door eternally rather than own another cent one hour. It made

my grand-father a suicide, my father a murderer, my mother the victim of a sorrow that sunk her early to the grave, my brother a gambler, and myself a convict in the State prison four years."

Some years ago, says the St. Louis Intelligencer, a very beautiful young lady was the ward of a person residing in Louisiana, who defrauded her out of a large fortune. This lady came to this city, where she married, but not living on good terms with her husband, finally obtained a divorce from him, and retired to a convent. Whilst she was there she received a letter from the son of her former guardian, informing her of his father's death, and that himself had heired all his vast property, but that he could not consent to retain that which had been treacherously obtained from another, and offering to make restitution. The lady immediately proceeded to Louisiana, had an interview with the heir, and received back, both principal and interest, all that she had been wronged of. The strangest part of the story remains behind. No sooner had she got possession of her fortune, than she returned to this city, sought out her former husband, and in a few days was re-married to him. Verily, the love of woman passeth understanding. The parties are now living in St. Louis, and it is to be hoped will agree better than formerly.

THE BEST MEDIUM.-The best method for a man to reap advantage in love matters, is to turn his head to the cultivation of waist property.

Correspondence of the Newark Daily Advertiser. Peter Parley in Florence.

FLORENCE, Dec. 22, 1854. The late arrival of "Peter Parley" created a sensation among the representatives of "Young America" here, only equalled by the furor which now awaits old Santa Clause himself. Nurseries grew as noisy as hencoops of spring chickens with "goosey gander" outside. "Only think," said master Frank to his blue eyed sister, "we shall see him ourselves, spectacles, broad brim, knee-buckles and all!" "I wonder if he talks stories, too!" rejoined Lizzie, her rosy cheeks getting rosier at the hopeful thought; "If he takes me on one knee, Frank, I'll ask him to take you on the other, so we can listen both together." The other evening a little party, bright with glad expectation, had arranged . in full view on a table the red gilt Lilliputian library, to await the real presence of its originator.Chuckles were hiding away in dimples, ready to burst out in a general laugh; plump cheeks shaking in advance, like little jelly-pots, and round eyes set on hinges prepared to open its sauces, when bedtime arrived, and lo! "Peter Parley" came not!There was a fluttering of curls, a pouting of red lips, and the whole flock came down from the perch of expectation and scattered to their nests.

"Won't you invite him to dinner, so that he can't help coming, mamma?" said one of these the next morning,and hopped away merrily with the wishedfor answer. Dinner came, and with it our hero!The children ran to the encounter.but skulked back again, giving mamma's cheek the kiss meant for his, as an unwrinkled, Parisian dressed gentleman made his bow to the company. Little Lizzie, however, took courage, on being called by him to approach, and soon found herself on the unbuckled knee of the veritable story-teller; but master Frank, of two years more consideration, shied off into a corner, whence he watched them with a suspicious eye.When they were alone again, his pent up indignation found vent in declaring to all, with solemn indignity, that this Peter Parley was an impostersans broad brim, sans knee-buckles, sans walking stick! "But he wears spectacles and tells stories; so I think it is he, after all," responded Lizzie. The most expressive wonder came from a little prodigy -the tiniest, fairest thing alive, daughter of Mr. T. B. Read-who having, unobserved, been watching one day, with doubtful eye, exclaimed, at last. "If you are really Peter Parley, why don't you do something funny?""

Thomas H. Benton on Cold Water.

The Mercantile Library Association of New York recently presented Hon. Thomas H. Benton with a silver pitcher and salver, as a testimonial of their appreciation of his services in lecturing before them. In making his acknowledgments Mr. Bentou thus speaks of his temperance habits through a long life, and it will be seen attributes to the use of water as a beverage whatever of mental or bodily vigor he now has, and whatever of business application he has ever shown:

In making these acknowledgments I take leave to say, that there was an appropriateness in the selection of the particular article for the testimonial, beyond what might have been understood when the pitcher was fixed upon, and which is this: When I was young I became what Dr. Franklin was-my only point of resemblance to that illustrious manwhen he worked at his early calling in London, an aquatic term which his comrades applied to designate him as a water-drinker. I also drank water, and nothing stronger, in the early part of my life-the first half of it; and to that abstinence from all vinous, spirituous and fermented fluids 1 attribute the good health and general vigor which I now enjoy.

As this allusion touches a point at which a word might be useful to other young men desirous to advance themselves in life, and to have good health in old age, I will go on to say that, at that time, and in the South, it was the custom in every house to offer something to drink to all visitors-even boys; and that excuses were no defence for those who would. refuse. Pressure, importunity, custom, broke down, all excuses, and it became necessary to oppose will where reason was unavailing; so I made a law for myself that I would drink nothing until I should be in the decline of life and might need it; and reso

lutely pleading that law, I afterwards escaped importunity. It was the first stand, "solitary and alone," that I ever made; but not the last. I was young enough, and silly enough; at that time, to suppose that this decline would come on me at thirty; and so fixed that age as the limit of my law. When thirty came-I did not feel the decline, and extended the time; and eventually relaxed into temperance; and have remained at that point ever since. Thus, the first half of my life was abstinent -the second half temperate; and to these conditions I attribute whatever of mental and bodily vigor I may now have, and whatever of business application I have ever shown.

Faithful Preaching.'

Rev. W. H. Milburn, to illustrate the peculiar faithfulness of some of the early Kentucky clergy, says in his lecture:

"An incident related by Ewell White, himself a man of note, will illustrate this. It happened at one time that a meeting was appointed in in old Simon Kenton's county. A preacher named James Axley, familiarly called Jemmy Axley, by his friends, and very popular, was expected. But when he came he brought another with him, who spoke first.

This disappointed the people, and there was a good deal of noise and confusion, and great inattention on the part of the audience. It is customary when two ministers are present, for both to address the meeting; if one drives in a nail of truth the other clenches it. When Axley arose, all was still, everybody was disposed to listen.

"My friends," said he, looking round with a keen observant glance, "it is perhaps a painful, but al ways a necessary duty of your minister to reprove sin, wherever found, and be assured I shall not shrink from it on this occasion. "Now," said he, "that sandy headed man standing by the door, that went out while the brother was speaking, staid as long as he wished, got his boots covered with mud, came in and made such a noise cleaning them as to disturb everybody, and prevent their hearing scarcely a word, that man thinks I mean him. And well he might think so, for it was a disgrace to Kentucky to say he was raised here and had no more manners. Now, my friend, I advise you to go home, and learn how to behave when you come to the house of prayer. But I don't mean him.

That little girl about the middle of the floor, with flowers inside of her bonnet, that was giggling and laughing and chattering all the time the brother was speaking, thinks I mean her. And she ought.I am sorry for her parents, who have raised a girl to fifteen, without her learning how to behave modestly and properly, and they are to be pitied. Lit. tle girl, before you come again, learn to be quiet and reverend in the house of God, and respectful to the ministers he has sent. But I don't mean her.

And now that man on the bench, towards the corner, that's looking up as bright and wide awake, as if he had never been asleep in his life, and never expected to be, but who was nodding and bowing all through the preaching, and snoring so as to disturb all around him, he thinks I mean him.And indeed he well may. My friend, the house of God is not intended for a sleeping room. When you want to take a nap, go home and go to bed and take it regularly; but you come here for another purpose. But I don't mean him."

And thus he went on, fixing his dark, piercing eye on each offender, singling him out in such a manner that he could not be mistaken, till he had nearly gone through with all who had made any disturbance, ending each reproval wit But I don't mean him, or her. White, meanwhile, was sitting on a bench in front of Axley, enjoying the fun amazingly, laughing, rubbing his hands, chewing more lustily, and spitting more vigorously and profusely than before, as each new offender was brought, till the aisle before him was a puddle.

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"Now," said Axley, drawing himself up, and with a severe look, "1 calculate you want to know who I do mean.' "I mean," pointing directly to White-" I mean that nasty, dirty, filthy tobacco chewer. Look at the filthy brown puddle before him; a toad wouldn't hop in it, and to think of the sisters' dresses having to go through it!"

White was thunderstruck. He never again was known to chew tobacco in meeting.

Scandal, like a kite, to fly well, depends very much on the length of the tail it has to carry.

Shaking Hands.

Shaking hands is the accepted manner of performing "how-de-do," "glad to see you;" but the manner of doing this varies so much that with some people we have "great shakes," and with others "no shake at all." Politicians, if they are running for office, have the art of hand-shaking to perfection. Editors have a very impressive shake for a subscriber paying in advance. In shaking hands, ladies are generally passive, for the least pressure from their little fingers means volumes, including in it the formal and familiar ceremony.We have been told, by those "posted up" in such matters, that the telling and eloquent shake of the hand, that eclipses all others, comes from a principal in a duel when his second announces to him "that the affair was amicably arranged." It would be impossible to give all the varied expression that characterizes the act of shaking hands; but there are a few that can be designated, which, like primitive colors, form the ground work of every varying shade.

The pump handle shake first deserves notice. It is performed in a solemn, mechanical manner. No attempt has ever been successful to give it grace or vivacity. As a genteel rule, it should not be continued after your friend is in a profuse perspiration from the unwonted exercise. The pendulum shake is of a similar character, but it has a horizontal instead of perpendicular motion. It is executed by boldly sweeping your hand horizontally toward your acquaintance, and after the junction is effected, rowing with it from one side to the other, as long as human nature will bear it. The tourniquet shake is next in importance. It derives its name from the instrument of torture by which surgeons stop the circulation of the blood. The person using this style, if he has a large, powerful hand, can throw his victims into intense agony and produce dislocation of the small bones of fingers, and in delicate persons easily sprain the wrist.

The cordial shake is performed with hearty, boisterous agitation of your friend's hand, accompanied by a moderate degree of pressure, and cheerful exclamation of welcome. This style is indiscriminate and very popular. The grievous touch is the opposite of the cordial grapple. It is principally used by hypochondriacs and sentimental young clergymen, and is always accompanied by a nervous inquiry about somebody's health. The prude Major and the prude minor are entirely monopolized by the ladies; the first allows the gentlemen to touch the fingers down to the second joint; the second gives you the forefinger. The very ladies, however, who use these styles most effectually, will, in a moment afterward, permit the tourniquet squeeze provided it is done in the waltz or other equally familliar dance. We might extend our list with descriptions of the gripe royal and the saw mill shakes, and the shake with malice prepense, which are after all, but exaggerated forms of the pump handle, pendulum, and tourniquet varieties, and therefore can be conceived more easily than described.

A Fearful Death.

A French paper says that a workman engaged in digging a well near Bayeux was recently buried by the fall of a large body of earth. A shaft was immediately sunk through the fallen material to the depth at which the man was supposed to be, and excavations were made in every direction from the bottom, in the hope of rescuing him from death.Soon his voice was heard calling to them, and although they could not tell from what direction it came, they continued their labors until he was found embedded in a quantity of wood work a few feet above the place where they had commenced their search. The upper part of his body was free, but the lower portion was so fast jammed that all efforts to extricate him were ineffectual. Every effort would cause a fall of sand which endangered the lives of the workmen. The work was finally given over in despair: but after an interval of several hours, five gallant men volunteered to make a last attempt to rescue their unfortunate fellow laborer. They descended and set to work with renewed energy. They excavated enormous quantities of sand, and passing a rope round the man's waist, exerted all their strength in the endeavor to pull him out. Their united efforts did not move him an inch, and at length, finding it absolutely useless to continue their efforts, and that. to do so would only occasion the sacrifice of their own lives

without resulting in any benefit to the sufferer, the reluctantly discontinued their task, and were draw again to the surface of the ground. The paris priest, upon hearing that there was no longer an-jet hope, immediately caused himself to be let dow and gave absolution to the prisoner in the well-and The man was perfectly conscious and knew the fat which awaited him. The suspension of work wi then formally ordered by the prefect, the hop which had lingered in the hearts of the bystander was abandoned, and the engineers proceeded i take measures for preserving the adjacent house from damage in case the earth near the shaft shoul: stor give way. Nothing more was seen or heard of thr doomed one below, and none knew the secret ceļ his last agouies as he waited the approach of death in that lonely pit.

From the Boston Advertiser, Feb. 3d.

Yankee Humor.

Captain Basil Hall, when he travelled in thi country, found the Yankees a people entirely desti tute of wit and humor. Perhaps our gravity which ought to have put him on the right scent, de ceived him. I do not know a more perfect exam ple of wit than something, which, as I have heard was said to the captain himself. Stopping at a vill !" age inn there came up a thunder storm, and Capt Hall, surprised that a new country should baw reached such perfection in these metereologica manufactures, said to a by-stander, "Why, you have " very heavy thunder here. "Well, yes," replied the man, "we du, considerin' the number of inhabit ants." Here is another story which a stage drive told me once: A wag in the outside of the coach called to a man by the roadside who was fencin some very poor land-"I say, mister, what are you fencing that pasture for? It would take forty acre on't to starve a middle-sized cow." "Jesso; and I'm fencing of it to keep eour kettle eout."

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Now in the "forty acre" part of the story, w have an instance of what is called American ex aggeration, and which I take to be the sympt toms of most promise in Yankee fun. For marks that desire for intensity of expression whick is the phase of imagination. Indeed, many o these sayings are purely imaginative-as where man said of a painter he knew, that "he painted s shingle so exactly like marble that when it fell inte the river it sank." A man told me once that thes people of a certain country town were so univerally dishonest, "that they had to take in their stone: walls at night." In some of these stories, imagina tion appears yet more strongly and in that contras dictory union with the understanding which lies at the root of the highest humor. For example, a coachman driving up some mountains in Vermont, was asked if they were as steep on the other side also? "Steep! chain-lightnin' couldn't go down 'em without the breechin' on!" I believe that there is more latent humor among the American people than in any other, and that it will one day develop itself and find expression through Art.—J, R. Lowell's Lectures.

A Woman's Vengeance.

A young woman named Sullivan, in San Francisco, lately inflicted two desperate stabs with a knife upon a man named Kerrison. He had promised her marriage, and then left her to despair and ruin.Upon her arrest, a letter, directed to her false lover, was found upon her person, and from it can be

seen

how hate can burn

In hearts once changed from soft to stern,
And all the false and fatal zeal

The convert to revenge can feel." "Now, Harry, to tell you that I have loved you -that I would have laid down my life for youthat if sickness had laid you on a bed, I would have worked for you and tended you as tenderly as the fondest mother would her child-that if crime or reproach had been yours, I would have clung to you and loved you through all-that nothing ou earth would have damped my love for you, so close ly had I entwined you round my heart. This, Harry, has been my love for you- this, Harry, has been the heart you have thrown from you. Your own heart will best tell you why-if from the caprice of the moment, or from a passing fancy of your fickle nature, it matters all the same. The die is cast-if now you were about to offer in the sight of man to own me as your wife-if you were to lay

y my feet, I would refuse all, for a stron

has laid hold of me-and a sweeter one. ce, Harry, and read. When I left home gave me a Bible. Since that, I have ed at it till last night. Do not treat this acy of a moment. I am very calm-the bate-deadly hate-and I knelt on my the cold earth, with no other witness than above-and Harry Kerryson, I took an on that Holy Book-an oath which ake your blood run cold to hear. "Tis you my love-now you shall feel my hate."

Fashions in Old Times. blowing story, related by a mother to her a few years since, will show the spirit that among the people of New England at the period to which it relates;

the afternoon of one the last days in May, I was a few months short of fifteen years stice came to Townsend, Mass., where my used to live, that fifteen soldiers were ad

raining band was instantly called out, and ther next older than myself, was one that elected. He did not return till late at night, all were in bed. When I rose in the morning and my mother in tears, who informed me that ter John was to march the day after to-morrow, arise. My father was at Boston, in the Assem Mother said that though John was supplied summer clothes, he must be away seven or at months and must suffer for want of winter meats, There was at this time no store and no tacles to be had, except such as each family would ake itself. The sight of a mother's tears always ught all the hidden strength of the mind to acI immediately asked her what garments were eded. She replied, "pantaloons."

"Oh! if that is all," said I, "we will spin and eave him a pair before he goes."

Trt," said my mother, "the wool is on the sheeps' y, mk, and the sheep are in the pasture."

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immediately turned to a younger brother, and symade him take a salt dish and call them up to the For ard.

whid Mother replied, "Poor child, there are no sheep nyders within three miles and a half."

here I have some small shears in the loom," said I. ted "But we can't spin and weave in so short a time." ll inte"I am certain we can, mother."

t the "How can you weave it? There is a long web erall linen in the loom."

ston "No matter. I can find an empty loom.",

gin By this time the sound of the sheep made me ontra quicken my steps towards the yard. I requested ies my sister to bring me the wheel and cards, while I le,weat for the wool. I went into the yard with my Joy brother, and secured a white sheep, from which I

sheared, with my loom shears, half enough for the wweb; we then let her go with the rest of the flock. then I sent the wool in with my sister. Luther ran for eop a black sheep, and held her while I cut off wool for Vemy filling and half the warp, and then we allowed Leher to go with the remaining part of her fleece.

The wool thus obtained was duly carded and spun, washed, sized and dried; a loom was found a few doors off, the web got in, woven and prepared, cut and made, two or three hours before my brother's departure, that is to say, in forty hours from the commencement, without help from any modern improvement.

The good old lady closed by saying, "I felt no weariness, I wept not-I was serving my country; I was assisting my poor mother; I was preparing a garment for my darling brother."

The garment being finished, I retired and wept, fill my overcharged and bursting heart was reliev

ed.

This brother was one of Gen. Stark's soldiers, and with such a spirit to cope with, need we wonder that Burgoyne did not execute his threat of marching through the heart of America?

MEMORABLE EPOCHS.-There are certain exciting epochs in a woman's life that are never forgotten; such as, for instance-the first time she carries a parasol, the first time she receives a valentine, the first time she goes to an evening party, the first time a proposal is made to her, the first time she wears a velvet dress, and the first time she puts on the wedding ring.

A SHREWD DOCTOR.-The Philadelphia Sunday Mercury tells a story to the effect that a man named Jennings undertook, a few nights since, to give a colored physician from St. Domingo, named Dr. Charles Le Brun, residing in this city, a severe drubbing for malpractice. It seems that Jennings had been troubled with dyspepsia, and had applied to Dr. Le Brun for a cure; but after taking the doctor's physic for a month, he found himself much worse, told the doctor so, and then a quarrel and the assault just spoken of followed.

'Monsieur le Mayor,' said L., 'I no pretend to be ze wizzard, but I cure any body dat do vat 1 say. I tell dis man he must take two of my pill to-morrow, four ze nex day, and den go on double ze dose forty day, and if he no cure den, I tell him he come to me I vill give him back his money tout suite.Sare, dat is de bargane vat I made vid him, and he no do dat, so it no vonder he git vorse."

Jennings replied to this-"I took his pills, sir, according to directions, for five days. doubling every day, as he told me, and found, on the fifth day, that the dose amounted to thirty-two pills, and then I began to figure up what it would come to in forty days, and found that I should have to take at least half a peck."

No mattare if it was a bushel,' said Dr. Le Brun; 'ze pill is vegetabeel, just same as von turneep, and he might live on zem all ze time and ze no hurt. But if he no give ze pill a fair trial, vot for I give back his money?'

It was plain enough that Jennings did not go according to contract, and so he had no pretence for asking Dr. Le Brun to refund. The doctor promised to say nothing about the assault and battery, if Jennings would persevere in the purchase and use of the medicine, but Jennings, in this extreme case, preferred the operation of the law to that of physic, and was accordingly bound over to answer for the outrage he had committed.

FACTS.-Should all the inhabitants of the United States cease to use intoxicating liquor, the following would be some of the beneficial results, viz:

1. Not an individual would hereafter become a drunkard.

2. Many who are now drunkards, would reform, and would be saved from the drunkard's grave.

3. As soon as those that would not reform, should be dead, which would be a short time, not a drunkard would be found, and the whole land would be free.

4. More than three fourths of the pauperism of the country might be prevented; and also more than three fourths of the crimes.

5. One of the grand causes of error in principle, and immorality in practice, and the sources of vice and wretchedness would be removed.

6. The number, frequency and severity of diseas es would be greatly lessened; and the number and hopelessness of maniacs in our land be exceedingly diminished.

7. One of the greatest dangers of our children and one of the principal causes of bodily, mental, and moral deterioration would be removed.

8. Loss of property in one generation to an amount greater than the present value of all the houses and land in the United States, might be prevented.

9. One of the greatest dangers to our free institutions, to the perpetuity of our government, and to all the blessings of civil and religious liberty would

be removed.

10. The efficacy of the gospel, and all the means which God has appointed for the spiritual and eternal good of men, would be exceedingly augmented; and the same amount of moral and religious effort might be expected to produce more than double its present effects.-Episcopal Recorder.

At Newcastle, a young servant girl devoted every minute of her spare time to making warm clothing for the soldiers in the Crimea. Among other articles contributed was a pair of drawers, and inside she tacked the following warm-hearted note:

"My Dear Soldier-I have had very great pleasure in making these drawers for you, and I hope they will keep you nice and warm. I hope you will get back to your country without losing either leg or arm. If I were a man I would come and help you. If you can, let me know who you are. I am your affectionate friend, MARY ANNE."

BEAUTIFUL INCIDENT.-A correspondent of the Preston (Eng.) Chronicle gives the following anecdote: A good while ago a boy named Charlie had a large dog which was very fond of the water, and in hot weather he used to swim across the river near which the boy lived. One day the thought struck him that it would be fine fun to make the dog carry him across the river, so he tied a string to the dog's collar, and ran down with him to the water's edge, where he took off his clothes; and then holding hard by the dog's neck and the bit of string he went into the water, and the dog pulled him across. After playing about on the other side for some time, they returned in the way they had come; but when Charlie looked for his clothes, he could find nothing but his shoes! The wind had blown all the rest into the water. The dog saw what had happened, and making his little master let go the string, by making believe to bite him, he dashed into the water, and brought out first his coat, and then all the rest in succession. Charlie dressed and went home in his wet clothes, and told his mother what fun he and the dog had had. His mother told him that he did very wrong in going across the river as he had done, and that he should thank God for making the dog take him over and back again safely; for if the dog had made him let go in the river he would most likely have sunk, and been drowned. Little Charlie said, "Shall I thank God now, Mamma?" and he kneeled down at his mother's knee and thanked God; then, getting up again, he threw his arms around his dog's neck, saying, "I thank you too, dear doggie, for not letting go." Little Charlie is now Admiral Sir Charles Napier.

THE DANGER TO NATIONALITY.-In the eleva. tion and splendor of Athenian power, says Chancellor Kent, the privilege of citizenship was considered so distinguished a favor, that it was granted only by special decree of two successive assemblies of the people, and then alone to single worth and reputation. In the times of the earlier Cæsars the freedom of the city and empire was given with a sparing hand; but the line of degenerate emperors succeeding, corrupted and destroyed this salutary jealousy of the right of citizenship, by extending it first to the whole of Italy, and finally to the entire empire, composed, as it was, of an aggregate of subjugated kingdoms, until the national blood was tainted, the distinctive national prejudice and spirit were dissolved,and the State perished under a horde of foreign barbarians, whose warlike invasion affords almost the only historic parallel in number to the peaceful and insidious foreign influx to our shores at the present day. In England, the most liberal of the present European governments, citizenship is conferred only by special act of Parliament. In the Continental nations there are still further limitations, of a total prohibition.

When we witness the profuse liberality with which the sacred right of citizenship is bestowed among us, the slender guards that exist against its unworthy or fraudulent gift, and the great interests in the hands of those who grant it, we should pause and calmly consider the possible consequenc

es.

CHARACTERISTIC.-The following notice of a "run upon a bank," which we clip from the N. Y. Post, is not only amusing, but characteristic of the African and Anglo-American races. The scene occurred at one of the Six-penny Savings Banks of that city :

"Among the swarm of people bringing in deposits of all conceivable values, ranging from 5 cents as high as $22, we noticed a stout colored man, who walked up to a desk, inquiring with the air of a millionaire, 'Is the President of the bank in ?' 'Here I am at your service, sir." I should like,' says the applicant, to make a draft on you to-morrow, if the Bank is prepared for it.' 'Anything to accommodate you, my friend,' said the President; 'how much may your draft be?' 'Well, sir,' said the sable visitor, drawing himself up, coughing and looking as sternly important as if his words were destined to produce a crash in the fiffances of the universe, -About nine cents! 'You shall certainly have it,' answered the accommodating functionary, not at all bewildered at the announcement, 'there is a balance of twenty-one cents to your account-call again.' And the colored man makes room for the next call."

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