Mt. Vernon Republican (Mount Vernon, Ohio : 1854), 1856-06-03

              1 jt:. &dM& 7..f..l . x ! , .'' . !) ' . " r i ill', i? no; 29 VOL. II; MOUNT VERNON, OHIO, TUESDAY MORNING, JUNE 3, 185(j. v.,: P ; ' ' fit i " I! Jill M . . X : v;- ::;::.:, -in jM VgRNON REPUBLICAN. THUS ! ' $2,00 Per Annum, if in Adranco. ADVEBTISING' ' '. The Ripublioav bM tho largest circulation 'in the county and U.therefore.tbe best medium through which business men can advertise. Ad-. vertuementi frill be inserted at the following ' ', ., . . KATM. I l l ' ,4 square e.t c. . $ e. ft c. , e $, c $ c. , . jl 00(l 25i 75 253 003,604,606 00 ' A qr'.,l75 9 253 254 855 iSfliijiJifwi 3 iqr's" 9 50 3 50 4 50 1& 00,6 OuBin ,4 eqr'e .3 50 4 00 5 00 6 00 7 00 8,1)0 1000 la , I square changeable monthly, $10;weekly,$15 ' column changeable quarterly, 15 "J? Column changeable quarterly,'. 18 Column changeable quarterly, 25 1 column changeable quarterly ....40 .,,.. ,..; : ; m m - tTTwelv line in this type, are counted ata square. .", tTElitorlal notices of advertisements, or '-callingatten'ion to sny enterprise intended to Mienefit individuals or corporations, will be , charged for at the rate of 10 cents per line. . 13 Special notices, before marriages, or taking precedence of regular advertisements, double usual rates. " CTNotices for meetings, charitable societies, ,t firo companies, tc, half price, , ET Advertisements displayed inlarge type to '' be charged one-half more than regular rates. ITTAll transient advertisements to be paid "In advance, and none will be inserted unless for , definite time mentioned ' . ' ' -REASON AND INSTINCT, NO. I. i Of all the animal creation, mnn only, has been generally considered as endowed vYriih reason. Inferior animals are suppos ed t6 act from instiact, being incapable of ratiocination. " " The consideration of the subject may .' not prove as dry and uninteresting as from past thought may be apprehended; especially should it prove like mo3t other questions to have two tides to it. Some mat- r : ten that by common consent are deemed - settled past controversey, are occasionally " unsettled by closo investigation. ""' ' Reason may be defined aa that power of . the mind by which conclusions are deduced ..ifrom premise; by which causes are trac-! ed from effects ; and like effects predicted with certainty from like causes; that pow-' er by which calculations are made, by com-; bining, comparing, analyring and analogizing; that power by which man pro-gresses in knowledge, from tl e known, nferring with certainty the unknown. : , Instinct has been defined as "the good sense of brutes; very different, however, from intellect, or reason, whioh is the good sense of human beings." It has been said V to indicate the employment 'of definite ''means to obtain a definite end, without the 0i intervention of that chain of thought kieh characterixes reason--" X- " True, it is quicker and more direct in :'; action than reason, but being mature in its ., very incipiency, and admitting of no disci-v, pline or improvement, its results, aggre-' . gately, are incomparable to those of reason. "' ' Instinct is nicely adapted to the condition of creatures designed for mau's use. Were they endowed with reason, it might have -,'been difficult, if not impossible, for man to - have reduced them to subjection or retained ',! them in his service. s l"'"'. Instinct teaches, -or rather impels ir. ' ' rational animals to whatsoever is proper or 1 necessary for their preservation and well-being: yet, unlike reason, it does not ena-' ble or induce one irrational animal to imi-' ! tat,! improve, or turn to adtantage, the wisdom and ingenuity of another. i This, nothing short of reason ean do. -'- Though of all earthly beings, man is gene-. rally considered as exclusively endowed 'I'' with reason, yet he has instinct, in com-,a mon with brute animals, undoubtedly but his great superiority is the consequence of his having reason superadded His reason, when matured, so preponderates over " ' his instinct, as to cause the latter, in a great ,t measure, to be overlooked, or confounded In with reason. . r ' But it is undoubtedly from instinct, that we' instantly start and shudder, at the un-i : expected sight of (ho most harmless rep-(tllCjle.., But reason, as soon as there is opportunity for iis ezercise, does not confirm - ' tts ln this.i Instinct causes us to love our own species, in preference to all others; orjand this, is confirmed by reason. Jux.The human infant, destitute of experi -t ence, the datum of reason, is, in common ,(! ;with other younglings, Impelled by instinct, to seek, as far as able, It natural source or pi ustenancs, ;,.(. ,'nn WheD ia danger of falling from its nurse's wms tl instinctively stretches out its Lands to break the fall, though it has nev er experienced tbe use of such an effort. As the ehild grows, and observes, and experiences, reason dawns, and expands, ''aod matures; yet though it obscures,' asd i-' partially supersedes instinct, it never extir-"'pales it: for we have ever aa instinctive "flfaorfaV df annihilation, and an instinctive .eJr.Jippt-.of immortality. t-nV'ThV terffl reason, Is frequently misap-, p!!t4t,;.Ona, iulhor .says: ," ,"Reoki olmpir,an the joys ef eenser-Lle in tlirce wards, health, peace, and eooipe- ;.mi IMH.!'!,,,,!,,,:,. ,!,.. I,,;., ( ',' .jL i Admit this to btrs?, and what follows? Why, the hog with a voracious appetite, a1 peace-with bis fellow gruntors, and a plen- lly of com before him, is in the full enjoy ment of reason's whole empire. If this be what Is meant by tho empire of reason, all animals possess it in common: it embraoes an extensive domain. But so gross an absurdity may not be reasonably adopted. - A more sensible couplet is that of Pope's: "Self-love, the spring of action, moves the soul, Reason's comparing balance rules the whole." There is much of good sense, truth, and reason In it, as applied to man. But in brutes we see self-love, the motive power, visible enough; but the comparing balanco of reason is apparently wanting. Selfishly they follow the dictates or impulses of mere animal instinct. The polypus tiibe, ranked by naturalists as the lowest link in the chain of animated nature, and in some of its varieties scarcely 'istinguishable from subjects of the vegetable kingdom, though seemingly endowed with eternal life, (for if one be cut into hundreds of pieces, each piece becomes a perfect, liv ing polypus,) yet no one will pretend that it lias reason, who considers that it is des titute of the organs of mind, as well as the powers of locomotion; its only action being instinctively to expand, and contract, gape and swallow whatsoever chance throws in its reach. Of the icsect tribe, the bee is perhaps the most conspicuous, for its persevering industry, orderly management, well regulated society, and the perfect mathemati. cal precision displayed in the construction of its cells. What actuates it so unceas ingly? Reason, it may be said, stimulates it to provide for future want. Not so. Impossible. Suppose a young community of bees becomes fledged in the month of May, when the verdure of earth is in all its glory; field and forest, hill and dale are carpeted with flowers, and nature's grand perfumer and confectioner is abroad in the land: they seek and prepare themselves a habitation, and with most com mendable zeal, and matchless skill, and cell to cell, and treasure to treasure, as if they believed summer would lost but a week. Now the fact is, they have no knowledge of the alternation of the seasons, no idea of an approaching winter; on the contrary, all their experience goes to prove to them, that summer will never end They havo no data, no facts from which to reason that winter will succeed; therefore it is probable that tbey are impelled by an instinctive avarice; or, phrenologically speaking, they have a striking develop ment of the organ of acquisitiveness, impelling them to accumulate, not knowing wherefore. , More anon. . NORTH Boy love. One of the queerest, and funniest things to think of in after life, is "Boy-love."- No sooner does a boy acquire a tolerable stature, than he begins to imagine hims elf a man; and to ape manish ways. He casts sideling glances at tall girls he may meet, becomes a regular attendant at church, or meeting, sports a cane, carries his head erect, and struts a little in his walk. Pres ently, and how very soon, he fulls in love; yes, falls is tbe proper word, because it best indicates his happy, delirious, self abasement. He lives now in tl fairy region somewhat collateral to the world, and yet, somewhat, blended inextricably with it.-He perfumes his hair with fragrant oijs, scatters essences over his hankerchief, and desperately shaves, and annoints for a beard. He quotes poetry in which 'love' and 'dove,' and 'heart' and 'dart,' peculiarly predominate, and as he plunges deeper into the delicious labyrinth fancies himself filled with the divine afflatus, and suddenly breaks into a scarlet rash of rhyme. He feeds upon the looks of bis beloved, is raised to the seventh heaven if she speaks a pleasant word; is betrayed into the most astonishing ecstacies by a smile; and is plunged ia the gloomiest regions of misan-throphy by a frown. He believes himself the most devoted lover in the world. There never was cuch another. There never will be. He is one great idolater! He is the very type of magnanimity, andselt abnegation. Wealth! he despises the -groveling thought. Poverty, with the adorable beloved, he rapturously apostrophies as tbe first of all earthly blessings: and "Love in a Cottage with water and a crust," is the beau ideal paradise of dainty delights. He declares to himself, with the most solemn emphasis, that he would go through firs and water; undertake pilgrimage to China or Kamschatka; swim storm-tossed oceans; scale impassable mountains, and face legions of bayonets, but for one sweet smile from her dear lips. He doats upon flower she has cast away. He cherishes her glove a little worn in the fingers next his heart. He sighs like a locomotive letting off steam. He scrawls her dear tame over quires of foolscap fitting medium for his insanity. He scornfully deprecates the attention of other boys of bis own age; cuts Peter Tibbets, dead, because he sail that the adorable Angelina had carrotly hair; passes Harry be 1 con temptuously, for daringr to compare "that gawky Mary Jams," with his incomparable Angelina.' ' ... : , . llappvl foolishl Boy-love; with its hopes and iu fears, it oi and its sorrows: its jealousies, it delights; Us raptures, and It tortures its ecsiatie icrvors and terrible heart burnings; its solemn ladierousnes. and intensely pruiaio termination', , . , J From the Waverly Magazine, ' LEAVES ER0J1 A BACHELOR'S JOURNAL. BT KID 6MALLFKLL0W. 1 have somewhere said, that many men murry more lor the purpose of getting some one to make, mend, wash andcookfor them, and to make them comfortable generally, than for the saka of a wife to love them, and to help them live happily, and to hat low their n mictions with the sweet smiles and offices of affection, and with the en deurments which sympathetic union begets, As au ofl'xet, let me speculate awhile upon the onuses wlucli are most active in inducing woman to marry. . In the first place, woman is weaker than man lias not so much self-reliance, and by nature is more inclined to lean upon something for a support, than she is to depend upon herself. This proposition ex plains the secret why the greater part of enlightened woman kind are desirous of entering the bonus (bunds with a vengeance to such) of matrimony. As society and customs are, woman has not an equal chance vuh man in gaining the nccesxary means to support herself; and to get a par. in! revenge for man's injustice to her iu this respect, she saddles him with herself, and nvikes him groan all his life beneath the burden ho is forced to carry. What I write now is mearfl to apply to the majority of women. There are exeep ion-hI cases, be sure, but these I shall not deal with at present. A selbh desire for comparative ease, and nn exemption from the responsibility and the necessity of providing for one's self, is, I think, more often the great prompting cause, with women in marrying, than any other. The poets, who ore generally a worthless set of fellows, whoso opinion in such mAt'.i rs is not worth a straw, make a great ado about a woman's love, (a new version of "much ado about nothing,") and would make us believe that love is her meat, drink, and dress. But this is all fol de rol, as any one with half an eye can easily see, unless Cupid has spitefully blinded that poor half. The poets, who write such things as I refer to concerning woman's love, are generally moonstruck bachelors who live in a garret and do their own cooking; and being lnzy fellows, and rather lonely withal, tliey keep thinking what a glo ious thing it wuld be to have a woman to wait upon them, and put theii things in order, providing they have any; and finally they become insane rn this subject, and write hyperbolical verses on woman's love, which no one but very green misses, and Nuft hearttd, (and headed, too,) young gentlemen, who wear turned down collars and go serenading on moonlight nights, ever think of believing. And upon this poor authoiity the popular idea of woman's love is predicated. That a great many women in the upper circl. 8 of life do not marry for love, and to enj y that harmonious union which love alone teoures, is proved by this fact: "Lt n man who is dependent upon his own Imi.ds fur a livelihood offer himself in marriage, and though he be ever so talented, accomplished, generous, affable, handsome, kind, loving, and humane though he possess the noblest attributes of humanity, he has not one chance in an hundred of being accepted. Why? He lacks the "one thing needful." But U-t the Veriest monkey that ever disgraced the human form offer himself to any of the butterflies that Hit about in the halls of fashion, and he will be accepted, provided be is rich. No matter how much of a noodle he is, so that he has wealth, he is acceptable wherever he chooses to go. In looking at his money, the man, (supposing there is any) is lost sight of entirely. If the sum of money is large enough it is taken at once, and no questions arc asked concerning the individual who goes with it as an encumbrance. The fashionable bred lady (7) sneers upon the pretensions of the worthy mechanic, and for no o.l.or reason under heaven than that he does not disdain to soil his bands with useful and honorable labor. Would she marry himl No! Why? Because he cannot support her in the style she is ambitious of living in. Will she sacrifice anyihing for love? Nothing. But surround her with all the elegancies of art and wealth, and gratify her ambition for dress and display, and love may go to the dogs for aught she cares, The lack of sympathy which such women have for their husbands, who, with the greatestself-denial, make every sacrifice in their power to humor the caprices and desires of their wives, and who often make themselves bankrupt to indulge their extravagance, is another thing which shows that they do not marry for love; for if they really loved their husbands, it would be their greatest pleasure to divida and lighten their cares, instead of increasing thtm. Tbe women who select their husbands for tho wealth which they possess, reap their reward in the end in the shape of a cold, comfortless life, unattended by the warm sympathy of affection, unhallowed by the bright sunshine of peace, which falls with so much glory around the path of tboso whose hearts beat responsively with mutual love. The husband and wife are estranged, tbeir children do not love them, or each other, and discord reigns throughout the family. '. In the country, where people are poor er, and there is not so much aping of fash ion, it might be supposed that things are different, and that there is more marrying for love. But facts will hardly justify such an opinion, I think. Tbe farmer's (laughter has a keen eye for the purses and means of her beaux. A nd if young man, who chances lobe afflicted with "a con sumption of the pure,"makes himself loo intimate, or manifest too deaided preference, why, he is gently reminded that he had belter keep at a proper distance. The poor fellow gets notning but frowns and harsh words, while his more fortunate rivals are favored with the sunn iost smiles imaginable... . . .!. j Nor is this squinting towards the lover's property confined to the daughter alone. If (lhe person who aspires to tbe hand ot the farmer's fiirl Y his case bifore the father, what is the drift of his inquiries concerning the eligibility of bis would be son in law? Does he seek to ascertain whether the moral worth of the applicant is such as he would desire for tbe husband of his daughter? Why, bless your unsophisticated soul, no! He seeks to know only whether his pecuniary worth is sufficient to tvpport bis daughter ns he would wish to uave her supported. If it is All rtgut or this score, there is no danger about other things. If he has a nice farm he will make a nice husband! But if he has not applied himself soul, mind, and body to the Accumulation of wealth, why, he is a thriftless dog, and is of no account anyhow, oven though his talents are of the highest order, and his moral excellence is above reproach. In the country the cold spirit of utilitarianism so benumbs the finer feelings of the soul, that with the majority of people talents are of but slitrlil repute unless they can be turned into gold. Hence, the poor person with talent is not esteemed so uigli-ly as another who knows only enough to get money. Here is another thing which shows that mothers who know by long and (too often) sad experiences what mmriage is, that is not the consumm ilion of V ve, look with a keener eye upon the means of a young husband, than upon his moral qualities and natural fitness for a husband. For when a girl of their acquAintance is married, their tirst question is invarmblv tins: "Did she make out welll" meaning, did she marry a rich man. But, do they as it, "is she kind?" Is he a moral man? Is he loving and affectionate? Will he make her a good husband? Not a bit of i ; for their ideas ot a man s qualification tor a husband extend only to his property. Nine tenuis of the marriages are atten ded with unhappinesss. If we knew the facts, we should know that nine-tenths of the people who marry do so from selfish motives, which is amp'y sufficient to ac count for theunhappiness they experience. If people would loose 6iht of their love of money, and forget their selfish schemes, and marry only where disinterested love would dictate, there would be less misery in the world than there is at present, and the wrangling discord so often seen within the pale of mitrimony would be unknown. But just so long as people marry for money, or sellishness, so long will there be unhap-piness and discontent where nature designed nothing but harmony and the purest en joyment. I do not wish to convey the idea that money is ot no account in connection with marriage; as the world goes, and so ciety is,' it' would be very injudicious, indeed, to have absolutely no regard for pe cuniary affairs, or for the husband s thrift, or economy, or disposition to loon alter what pertains to his own interest; because a justly regulated system of thrift and econo my is not only laudable , nut necessary. But what I deprecate is, the prevalent propensity among people, for looking at pecuniary affairs first, instead of one's moral and intellectual attributes, and natural fitness (o be a husband and father in short, the popular notion of leasing a man's quali fications for matrimony on tho amount of property he owns, instead of leasing them upon what he is, considered apart from his artificial surroundings. The man should be studied first; il he, regarded only as( man, is what he should be, then there, is no impropriety in looking at his outward circumstances. But in no case whatever, should wealth alone be allowed to atone for those inward attributes which elevate man until he claims relationship with the angels. For wealth, at best, is a mere outside gilding which may be rubbed off at ' any time, and its attendant circumstances are as floating as the gilt which attracts them towards itself. But the qualities of the soul arc as deathless as itself; time can-1 not rob them of their brightness, nor can ' the factitious affuirs of life destroy them:' Hence, every ono may see it is but just that the man thould be more highly prized for what he is, than for what he possesses. But, alas! the wisdom of the world decides differently, and takes .the man on trust, without a qucs ion providing his pecuniary affairs are approved of. When will the cold mantle of miserly selfishness, which the world wraps around its Bharp shoulders, be cast aside, and its place be supplied with the broad, warm mantle of charity and brotherly love? And when will the pestilential miasma of sordid avarice, which exhales trom human hearts, be penetrated by the soft sunshine of benevolence and good will to man? Alas! when we look at the "signs of the times," we almost despair, for such a cold atmosphere of miserly selfishness bangs over the world, it seems almost impossible that either light or warmth from above can ever penetrate the closed hearts beneath.' But we know there is a just and good God who rules all things for the best, and so we will hope, and feel sure that he will make all things right in the end.. Relics of Sir John Franklin. A box has been received at the office of tho American European Express Company, in this city, which contains a portion (perhaps all) of tho relics of the unfortunate expedition of Sir John Franklin: 1 piece snow shoe maiked Mr. Stanley (the name is cut into the wood with a pen knife.) : - 1 piece of cane (apparently bamboo.) - . 1 piece of wood part of a boat with copper binding. 1 piece of wood part of a boat with the word "Erebus" cut into it. " 2 pieces bunting. 1 piece cordage. - 1 . piece leather the inside of abackgammon-board. I piece-metal the graduated part of a barometer. - ... ' , 1 piece of Ivory part of a mathematical parallel ruler. 1 piece Ivory apparently part of a mathematical instrument. ; V This box was received from the Hud-Son' Bay House Lachint, to Ve forwarded to the Hudson's Bay House in London. X 1'. Tribune. ( : i . THE STORY OF A PENNY. Thirty years ago there was seen to enter the city of London, a lad about lourteen vears of age. He was dressed In a dark smock frock, that hid all his under apparel, and that was mado for a person evidently taller than the wearer. His boots were covered with dust from the high road, he had an old hat with a black band, which contrasted strangely with tho covering of his bead. A small bundle, fastened to the end of a stick and drawn over his shoulder, was tho whole of his equipment. As he approached the Mansion House be paused to look at tho building, and seating himself on the steps of one of the doors, be was about to rest himself, but the coming in and going out of half a dozen persons bo-fore he had time to finish untying his bundle, made him leave that spot for the open space, where the doors were in part closed. Having taken from the bundle a large quantity of bread and cheeso, which he seemed to oat with a ravenous appetite, he Amused himself with all the eager curiosity of one unaccustomed to see similar sights, The appearance of the youth soon attracted my curiosity, and gently opening the door, I stood behind him without his being in the least conscious of my presence, He now began rumaging his pockets, and, after a great deal of trouble, brought out a roll of paper, which ho opened. After satisfying himself that a large copper coin was safe, he carefully put it back again, saying to himscll in a low tone, "Mother, I will remember your last words; a penny saved ia two-pence earned. It shall go hard with me before I part with you, old friend." Pleased with this remark, I trendy touch ed the 1 id on the shoulder. He started, and was about to move away when I said: "My good lad, yoi seem tired, and likewise a stranger in th'e city." . "Yes, sir" he answered putting his hand to his hat. He was again about ttf mbVe forward. "You need not hurry aWa, my boy," I observed. "Indeed, if you are a stranger and willing to work, I can perhu'ps' help you to get what you require." The boy siojd mute with astonishment, and coloring to such aa extent as to show all the freckles of a sun-burnt face, stammered out Yes sir." "I wish to know" I added, with all the kindness of manner I could assume, if you are anxious to find work, for I want a youth to assist my coachman." The poor lad twisted and twirled his bundle about, and after only placing his hand to his head, managed to utter an awkward answer, and said he would be very thankful.I mentioned not a word about what I had overheard with regard to the penny, but inviting him into the house, I sent for the coachman, to whose care, I entrusted the new comer. Nearly a month had passed after this nippl.tncp nnd r.nnvarfiatinn h&H nptirprl. when f resolved te make some inquiries of the coachman, regarding the, conduct of the lad. "A better boy never came into the house, sir; and as for wasting anything, bless me, sir, I know not where he has been brought up, but I really believe he would consider it a sin if he did not give the crumbs of bread to the birds every morning." "I am glad to hear so good au account," I replied. "And as for his good nature, sir, there is not a servant among us that doesn't speak well of Joseph, He reads to us while we sup, and he writes all our letters for us. Oh, sir, he has got more learning than all of us put together; and what's more, he doesn't mind work, and never talks about our secrets after he writes our letters." . Determined to see Joseph myself, I requested the coachman to send him to the parlor. ' "I understand, Joseph, that you can read and write." "Yes sir, thanks to my poor dear mother.""You have lately lost your mother then." "A month that very day when you were kind enough to take me into your house, an unprotected orphan," answered Joseph. "Where did you go to school?" "Sir, my mother has been a widow ever since I can remember. She was the daughter of the village schoolmaster, and having to maintuin me and herself with her needle, she took the opportunity of her leisure moments, to teaoh me not only how to read and write, but to cast up accounts." "And did she give you that penny which I saw you unroll so carefully at the door." Joseph stood amazed, but at length replied with great emotion, nnd a tear stood in his eye. "Yes, sir, it was the very last penny she gave me." "Well, Joseph, so satisfied Am I with your conduct, that not only do I pay to yon a month's wnges willingly for the time you have been here, but I must beg of you to fulfill tho duties of collecting clerk to our firm, which ha9 become vacant by the death of a very old and faithful assistant." Joseph thanked me in the most unassuming manner, and I was asked to take care of his money, since I had promised to provide him with suitable clothing for his new occupation. . ' It will bo unnccssary to relate how, step, by step, this poor country boy had proceeded to win the confidence of myself and partner. ; The accounts were alwavs eomclto penny; and whenever his safary become due, he drew out of my hands no more than lie absolutely needed, even to. a penny. At length he had saved a sufficient sum to be deposited in the bank. ' It so happened that one of our customers, who carried on a successful business, wan ted an active partner. This person was of eccentric babits, and considerably, advanced in years. . Scrupulously just, he looked on every penny and invariably discharged his workmen, if they were not equally scrupulous in their dealings with him. Aware of hi peculiarity of temper, thero was no person I could recommend but Joseph; and after overcoming the repugnance! of my partner, who was unwilling to be deprived of so valuable an assistant, Joseph wo duly received into the firm of Richard rail-brother x Up. Prosperity attended Jo seph in his new undertaking, and never ...ir..:J - j:ir. . - ouuumig ycuuj uiucrcuco iu pppettr in his transactions, ho so completely won the confidence of his senior partner, that he left him tho whole of his .business, as he expressed in his will, "even to the last pen ny." Amer, Agr, ' WINNING A WIDOW. After riding twenty miles I reached Don' aldsonville, La., just after dark, The Natchez packet sometimes arrived about ten o clock at night, and as 1 was bound up the Mississippi and did not want to miss her, I determined to wait in the whnrf of fice. Shortened the lime by paying a few visits to a coffee-house and billiard room in the town. During one of theso I noticed the arrival of a party of French Creoles, who talked and swore over a dozen "mallard ducks" loud enough to havo made y6u believe they'd been oa the war trail after Cumancbes, and brought in as many scalps. At last walked over to the whart-office, settled down and Lund comfort in a cigar, and as much of a newspaper as the rather misty light of a dull eyed lan tern would give me. the hre in the stove roared bravely and sent out plenty of warmth. I had dropped the paper and only held on to the cigar, when I suddenly woke up on hearing the door open and a couple of men enter. They found chairs, and drawing up to the stove, continued a conversation, evidently just commenced as they entered. "And so Buffer is going (o be married!' "Wal he is and a good match he's made of it, I tell you what, she's a roarer, if he don't have to put a kicking breech on her afore he's married a week, you may call me a' foof. She's' got eyes like a panther, Aid if he only lets her get the bit atween her teeth just for once she'll carry him further nor he wants to go." . "What makes him want to marry her then?" "Niggers, mules'; and as neat a planta tion as thar's oa lb Bayou. Two hun dred and fifty hogsheads clean sugar Inst crop, and u they'd only cut the cane mr- lier, titty more atop of it. She bad a new steam engine put up last season, and tho' that cussed baggage burner s a rousincr humbug, yet I recon its all paid for, and all Buffer's got to do is to step in, ban? up his hat, and set right down to live like a fighting cock." 'Why don't you go in there? . The last time I came down the river I heard you were bucking up to the widow." . "Wal now, Jim, to be honest, I did think afore that Buffer stepped in, that I just had it all ray own way, and that I was going to get her sure! As these here French say, 'I made eyes at her' savage! But, somehow nother, she always went dead agin old Mississip, A man from our State had no kind of show, and, though I put the tentiona to her like an uncle, it didn't seem to be no use try in. 'Bout time she did kind of lean my war, you see nare 'bout tbe end of grindin season, old Fara-bole give a dance down to his sugar house, and 'vited me and the widder, and a raft more; and down we went, and the widder, kind of felt her oats, and we reeled it off in the early part of the evening, fit to kill; but by m and by that iSuiler came on an' just knocked me cold I ' "iou see be had been down to the city, (New Orleans,) and only 'rived on the Bayou that night, and hearin' that there was goin'a on down to old Farabole's sugar house, down he cum. Wal, sir, he was drest to death in tho hansumest kind of store-cloths, an the women were right up on end as soon n he came in,' . i'L see the widder fixen'. her panther eyes on him, and I jest said to myself, 'Dick Tarcout, you might as well clear: that Buffer's too much for you in the close line; I felt it at onset. Wal, sir, in bout a minuta up come Buffet, smiles At the widder in a faslinatin' manner, an' ensists on dancin, with her. Sez she, 'Yes, Mis ter Buffer, it will Afford me the greatest of pleasure 1 lireatcst pleasure! Wal, tbe way he squeezed her when they danced, 1 ruther think it did. I kept an eye on Buf fer. Now, you see, he'd larnt the last agonies, in the way of bowin' and scrapin' an' savin' lettle nothins'; an' sir, he car ried his hat in his hand all over the sugar house, down among tbe bilcrs, an up round back of the engine whar tbe licker was every whnr he went, he toted that ar' hat! "Now the widder didn't jist exactly know what to make of it coz it was a new wrinkle so twice she said to him he'd better let Big Jake, one of the house niggers, hold it for him; but twan't no use, he held on to it tight as a wrench; at last, just as tbey were in the middle of a dance, set Buffer, with scch a smile, sez he 'Mrs. Noirveux, for your sake I'll do most any thing!' An' he actually held that ar' hat in one band, and be bit it a lick with totber, and fetched lop and rim right into a pancake knocked it right down flat ! I tell you wot, when the widder see him do that, she was just ready to drap, she was so eome over with his tentions. Sacrificing a bran new hat, and all to gratify her little whim! I see At once how he wss goin' an' I determined, sir, to head him off. So I stepped up round back of the engine whar the licker war an' I tuck a rou- sin' big horn of old Farabole's rum,, an' hunting.found my hat. It was s right new one none of your Kosshoot or wool hat, but a regular beaver, and (hone like a pair Of new blacked boots, so I lays bold of that ar' hat, and I goes round back of the engine an' takes another swingia' big pull at the rum, and then I felt jist right for action. The dance was through, and as cheers was scarce, the woman were all tested on a few Mats in front of the bilers, and Buffer was pilin on the soft things. and the widdor was a lookm' lickeled to pieces, wuen I mado my appearance on the tnge. - . .. w . . ... "I works up to'rdilhe widder, and when I'd got atween her and Buffer! w I, 'A-low me the pleasure, of your hand lot tho next eil " 'Oh,' sez she with a leetle igh', Win so. eomo over that I hardly feel abul to uanco agini ; .' - j.'Now sez I to myself, 'old feller.spread yourself pr diel and I jest swing my hat round foVd nn' jest as I said: 'You'd better say yes! you'll get over it a dancin,' I held that ar' hat in one hand, (jest as Buffer did his) an' with totber hand I druv the crown down with snob another lick, that (be limn' Jumped through and butt the end clean outl , "Raley,' sez she, you steered met an' I think I pfout have done it; Thar was my hat, all knocked into infernal piece,' no bigger than bits, the rim all hangtn' loose, the sides Smashed in, the linin, run-nin out and the top off. Bout that' time) I turned my eye, and there stood Buffer a holdin' his hat jest as good as new, and all in shape, sir! I looked at it twice no mistake, it was whole! "Sez ho, 'You ought to get A spring hat sliappoh tjiechanitM the' French tall 'em. I've one here!'- An' then he rips an' shows the whole inside of it, an' how it works, and the whole lot of women looked at him, like if he'd a stove pipe chocked full of diamonds; the widder patronized him, tuck him under bef wing, and give the cold shoulder straight. Buffer's got her. I'm tired of La-Fooshe, an' am back to the hills whar lhar ar' no more wldders that fullers can cotton down to with spring hats." Spirit of the Times. The First Great Meeting". The Republicans of New York ciiy haver' "put the ball in motion" most gloriously. The great commercial Metropolis has raised her voice for Freedom. - One of the largest political meetings ever convened in that city, was held at the Tabernacle, on the evening of the 30th ult, Nearly three thousand names of the sterling men of tho city, of all the old parlies, were appended to the Cull, as published in the Tribune. It was a noble gathering of noble men, forgetting all past political differences of opinion, and raising their voices, with one glorious accord, for free Kansas. The mere mention of a few of the leading men who participated in the proceedings, will speak its character. The Hon. B. F. Butler, an old democrat, and Attorney General under President Polk, presided. Mcses H. Grinnell, formerally m whig, and one of the most eminent and most honored merchants of the city Wm. Cullen Bryant, the glorious old Poet, and, editor of the "Evening Post," always a Radical Democrat and who advocated Gen eral Pierce's election Robert Emmet, another leading Democrat, and honored. wherever known, for his love of liberty and generous impulses were among tho Vice-Presidents. . The Hon. Abijah Mann and Gen. Nye, zealous Pierce democrats at the last Presidential election, were among the speakers. , . . ; The proceedings of the evening were characterized by impressive dignity firmness of purpose, and the most oordial harmony. One thought, one intent, one heart throb seemed to prevade the whole vast assembly. Xt was just such a (lathering as the times, and the . cause of Freedom demands. It will find an enthusiastic echo over the whole North. It will encourago the brave men of Kansas and bid them hone on."- It has fitly Ihrbted unthe first great altar-fire of the approaching Cam" paign. Let them kindle, and burn on, in every city and upon every hill-top, till tho whole free North is one blase of light-till the coming struggle terminate in tho triumphant election of a Champion of Freedom, and Kansas be wrested from the grasp of Border Ruffianism and dedicated to Liberty. Kindle up the fires! ltd pendant (Xev Hampshire) Democrat. t3T We clip the following, from tho Cincinnati Commercial, as a "tale well told," and highly humorous. Those enthusiastic citizens, who think "everything; works in favor of Cincinnati," will, we imagine, admit themselves "sold," in their anxiety for "southern trade!". .. "A largo amount of specie, said to bo $100,000, in silver change, was received at the Custom House in that city, yesterday. It was soon rumored that this money was sent to pay off Ihe "Special Marshal in the late slave case, and many prudent citizens, who had tromblcd through the whole trial for our "Southern trade," went about rubbing their hands with glee, and rejoioingthat the case had brought so much of Unele Sam' money to Cincinnati. Men who had trembled before at tbe mere name of fieedom, were seen to shake abolitionists cordially by the hand. It was a right genial time, and long headed old men stroked their beards and remarked, "eyerri thing wcrks in fiyor of Cincinnati. Tho Abolitionist bring u money as well aa our Southern trade. They are not such a bad set after nil." - The enthusiasm was get. ting so high thateveral persons were in favor of "sending a committee to ask Mr. Jolliffe to take a drink.'' when it was stated that the money was not intended for any such purpose, but Was sent here to be ex-. changed for Amerioaa gold, tn f)i(at the making of change."-. . . i 1 ' DiATti or ah old Cituss: Colonel J, Sloan, died on the 14th. inst, at his residence in Wooiter, Ohio. He was a man of reputation, and of long experience ia publio political life. Ia' 1818 he was elected to Congrew, and continued in that capacity six years. . He served several yesro as Secretary of the State of Ohio, and afterwards was appointed U . 8. Treasurer, which office he held ami! the present Ad ministration OArue into power. He died a the ripo old ago of 78 years. ', tW OoL Walker stock has gone up oae thousand per cent, since the recognition of Padre Vigil, whose cold reception', bowev or, by the ministerial oorps, don't look tho most encouraging. New Orleans will send out another steamer load of aid and comfort, to-day, whicbv fter all Is what tho Col. most wants. ; Give him men and now-ey, and he. wilt (band a dominion which will iwi be "reoogn'ued."