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$2 PER ANNUM. CHAAlSlTHARY SWAY,TY S WL CI^I^V^' IX ADVANCE ] . NEUTRAL IN POLITICS?DEVOTED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL AGRICULTURAL, SCIENTIFIC, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE. VOLUME 11. . LANCASTER, 6 ft, SOUTII CAROLINA WEL)NE,SDAY MORNIN(;. .ir[JV a. K,; NIMISKIMT ^ ^ ( | She turned udoii him a look of recoumi- ! tho citv of N?\v OrlexiiR dan lmn?? t w.. i ? (L'rigi WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR ' ' THE EZT ?o THE PURCH0 % DY wjtf. % . [concluded.] . . CHAPTER XII. WE have hitherto conducted you reader, through regal halls and princely mansion*, where the inuia'ea revel in luxurious ease mid comfort, so far as the abundance of wealth can procure. We have never yet been forced to chill your heart by describing to you iho scene w here poverty, ifcstitutiou and want exists in all itsappaling forms.?where suffering, disease and degradation is realized in itmost liorH >le deformity; an I now, when compelled to do so, we are loth to take you where all those are blended together i.i terrible and heart rendingdulail,?where cold, cheerless, friendless poverty, leads out a wretched existence,'and w here death is regarded by the sufferer as a welcome messenger, if you.would lookyjuion it wii *vmii h summering sensation?without h tjirill of fiorror passing through your frauie; you must.put an extra covering of wonllv coldneaa ami indifference around , yotirliea>%; and ateel your eye with nil the atony pililcssnes* tlint innrL* the iiiiiu of Hinnw', or the heart lean uiiaer. ' kin a* ??url> hour of tli*iiav. The hum shines brightly, reveals the wretched exterior #nd decayed appearance of a row of old frame house*, in the most dilapidated jarrtion of the city ??f New Orleans; each one looking aa if they would crumble and fall to the ground, it they only had room 1 to do so. It is a narrow street; a filthy, 1 sickening look ngplace, where ragged and ! nv*wra'??e *ookmg brat* are rolling in the and, and where men ami women,of every clime ami nation on the globe, with their tattered irarnient> ami l.-.i-.i.-o I??-h n*ar.\ , at you ui I'vrrv turn ; nil presenting so | dire a picture of extreme |K?verly, tlint no language can describe it. Hut vv?* enter one of these dismal alwwles, it is a iwi? ulnrv Iioum-, and the lower Hours are tenanted by the lowest and most degraded of earth's taiug* ; but wo pass on to the second t!< or, and turning to the right, we enter n room nbout twenty feet *<puire. This r<*>tn is lighted by two nn curtained wi.dows, the blight and joyous light of the sun, vividly contrasting with the dreary and eheo. less appearance of tin chaiul>er. There is no ea-jiet on the Hour: a small pine table occupies the centre of the room, ami two lia! -broken eh airs ar< standing near it; a small cup-board stnmh in one corner, ami contains a few articles of croekery, but none of the bus enanee of life; not even the crumbly ftajinoi t- <'a list meal; a so) t try led iti the opposite corner w ith a few articles of Covering, complete the furniture of this desolate chamber. Not an article of comfort, nor a single cheerful object meets your eye; every thing about it, both animate and mammale tells you a mournful story?it tells you of tatter days passed in ease and luxury?of disappointed hopes, wrecked heppim-ss ami hitter trials, am) of the last sad drama now taing enacted amidst desolation and woe, of the deep?*t dye. Near the hearth on the hare floor, is seited a little girl |M-r1ia|?s seven years of age. whose surpassing In-iiiiiy tills you with admiration, while you drop a tear of sympathy tor tho hard fate which her present po-ition, and meagre hut cleanly apparel, evidently implies is her*. With m needle in her hand she is engaged in mjnding the rents in a tatteml'gannonl, J ,.:i? - .1- ? ' " r w mo one null cover* her little pjrso", and M she In-n.U over her work wiih patient industry, her smooth six I wtvy cliesnut. curls flow around ?n?'k and shoulders, that are as clean and while n< th ?ugh she had lieen reared with all ths tenderness srxl care that ease and luiury child lieatow. Her features are beautiful, but pale and thin, and wear none ??f that happy and rareless expression that we are accustomed to see in tno face* of little children. But in it* stead, on ?ery lineament you read thought, suffering, ami care; melancholy to find in ohi and time-tried people, hut terrible to trace on the l?mw* and cheeks of little ones, scarce entered on life's journey. Lying oil t're leal that wo hare a'ro idy mentioned, is a slight ami wasted form that soetn* but the shadow of a living person. The faeo is pale and wan, anl th* a 114II mouth ha* lines of docp and f a tid suffering gra et? around It; ?hc nose is pinched, and the broad brow, efTm and wldtened by the sweep of sorrow's finger; the tyn nre foil of nil-nt agony, and lite wboU iaam www en *xpre**i<m of unspoken, lonj^endurMi angumk. Beauty, nuv nd pure in etylc bad been her*; ?uHering awr poverty could u<* destroy its trace*.? It peered out through the wavv hair now ftf >& ' felling Around ? neclc and (maoin et'dl h . . iuu ?>tonj. HIE " LANCASTER LEDGER." u mm: R,SED BEAUTY. CONNORS. white and lovely?it gleamed through the bright eyes, now sunken in their sockets, ?-It is visible in the mould of her features n??w calm and sorrowful, and in the turn of the hand ami arm now withered by suffering and diseases. It is evident that death will soon claim her as its victim. Her eyes rest uj?on the little girl with a silent, mournful, agonizing expression as she seems to |H*er into the dim future, and thinks of the lonely condition and uncertain fate of that tit le child. At length she calls: -Alice !" The little girl bounds to her side ami cries : 44You are awake now mother; wont we have breakfast.' 1 am so hungry !" Her mother's arms arc thrown around In-r as she answers : "You must try and Ihj patient my darling ; the last penny is gone, but perha|>s your father may eoine home to-day." "Hut mother, father has l?een gone a week, and may uotconiw; then what will tre do I" " Try and l?ear it n little longer mv child ; ?urely lie will not l?e gone much longer." Vint mother, we are starving !" 'I I ?* sutlerer answered by h look of I mournful, consuming, intense agony. | The child continued! "If you w ill only | let me beg mother, as the other children j do. I limy get something for us." This idea seemed to thrill to the very soul of the mother. The idea that her child should beg! Her emaciated frame w ithered with n more terrible agony than any that had yet consumed her as she cried : | "Never! Never!!" | . Hut w hat would she do I For herself, I she cared not, her 'mum were few, but ' would she let her child starve f These thought* seemed to pas* through her mind, us she gazed itjMin lite pale lace of he bttle girl. Al length she said : "Alice! the baker that you have been a? cm touted to buy from, may let you have a loaf of bread for once without the money. Try him, my dear." The starving child needed no second bidding, but as she reached the door her iiolhcr culled her back, am! throwing her arms around her neckprera-d her in a l< ng, affectionate embrace, as if conscious that, life was ebbing last within her own frail laxly. 1 ho little i/irl ni.vv Itfimulnl )..? 7? ^ ? **,v ?tair* into tlie Mrcet, ami wniketi an fant :iH her little limbs could carry her until sho reached the baker's shop that was situated in a part of the city where everything wore n more gay and lively aspect, than around her own dreary habitation. Her little heart had not thought of a rebuff from the baker, but when she told him that she had no money, he in a surly tone commanded her to leave the shop, lie had nothing to give to beggars.? Shrinking and frightened by the rough tones of the hardened wretch, she glided back into the street, and for a few moj menu Mood upon the pavement; the tears streaming down her pale and s'lnkeu cheeks. Her last hope writ* crushed, ami the little girl was starving! An she was standing not knowing where to go, she was accosted by a tall young man who was gaiiug upon her with ?look of intense interest: "What is the matter my little girl, why do you weep so P She looked up, and with the instinct of rllillllllMld ItllfW tll>t liu I.U.I ?l? - ? ? ?>-??v i.w iiivm t? % mni could sympathise with her * nth-ring*, a* she AUsWrred : "Oh, sir, we have had nothing to eat for t*odaya, and mother is too sick to work now." "Have you no one else to depend on but your mother ; no father or brothers P 1 '"fatherhardly everitlaya with ns now; tie haa'nt been home for a week." "What i* your name!" "Aliee P Tlie gentleman turned a shade paler, but after a moment he asked again : "Alice who |* "Alice Winters P 'the little girt did not notice that he leamil agaimt a post for support, l?ut con qu< ring his agitation, and after reflecting a moment, he said : "If ftttf notka* UMffuftns ?Hi( ti. want I will relieve her; will you show mo where you live r Oil yea air, If you will go." They walked rapidly, and were aoon ia the room of the dying woman, Tb#young man gazed without speaking wean that corps* like feee, that white and almost , puleeleaa bosom 1 I o tion ; her lips were open and one solitary word escaped them, but in that word, wai concentrated all the agony of her soul; the last flickering light of life was dyinj? within her, as she repeated in low and mournful accents: "Horace! Horace!! Horace ! ! 1" It is indeed Horace Edgcrton who stands before her, and all the pity and j commiseration of his uoble heart is (teaming from his eyes, as he looks upon the | corpse of his first love ! The once beautiful and lovely Alice Wilson !! She had been reared up amidst affluence?all the comforts and luxuries of life had been hers ; but this once lovely being, who had moved in the stately halls of her father's dwelling, the envied of the fairest of her sex, has died in poverty and want and her withered corp.se is sheltered by the poorest hovel of a populous city ! Can you look upon the picture without shuddering ? Do you feel it in all its terrible details ? She bail listened to the voice of the tempter, but in her dying hour she remembers the object of her first love ! . ClIAPTKIt XIII. fpT is midnight! The night pr?*ceedmg the morning in which occurred the death of Mrs. Witileis. A dim light i-t seen hurtling through the windows of it low triune house?u twostoried hiiilding |>:titi(?.*< 1 red, and it in from tin upper room that the light proceeds.? This interesting habitation is situated lait a few squares from the dismal quarter mentioned in the last chapter, and as we grope our way along the dark and tinlighted streets, we are not altogether free from certain misgivings, for we know that in this locality, murder and crime is of dailyjpecurreucv. But we reach this red hiiilding, and hung over a window of the lower story is seen al*Uirty red curtain, and by the dim light thai is set behind it, we read in (laming characters the significant winds " Bah Room." We puss through this filthy " three cent doggery," and ascend through the darkness a creaking stair.'Hse that leads to the second lloor, and as we enter the room in which the dim light seen from a distance is hurtling, a shuddering lenaation not altogether devoid of fear ereeps over us, for we are in tin* mid>?t of ili" iiwmo .-ill..;... ... ? i ... ,..V -.'V?V THUIIir ll?VlllpM|||l| ?tho ii)t*?t murderous looking set of liuiiihii beings that ever gloated over a deed of crime, or drew the blade of the assassin. This motley group is composed of men of every age and every clime ; tho dark half-bred, half-savage, and the purest Kuropean extraction mingle together on terms of the most perfect equality?French, Spanish, English, Italian, are all spoken in the same breath. It would seem that the different nations of tho earth were here represented to contest the supremacy of their skill in the art of gambling ; for at this tliey are engaged in all its variety of forms. The countenances of nnst of these men aro swarth and savage-looking? tierce dark eyes gleam from tinder the broad brim hats, while both beard and moustache grow wildly over their faces. It is plain that this class do not carry "concealed" weapons; they wear a waistU?lt containing a pair of pistols, the butts slicking out, and a long Spanish knife is hi ng obliquely frotn their left side. There are other classes; sailors with their broad well knit frames, inured to fatigue and hardship, and the half-refined rowdy, with loafers of the lowest description. Seated at a table covered with an oily groen cloth, is a tall rough looking n an. with a dark forbidding countenance, and from the air of nuthorit v which he asotincs, and a certain degTee of respect ahown hiin, it would aeern that he is the principal pro prietorof thise uhliahment The yellow, shining gold, is piled up at his elbow, in quantities that would make the uvea of the miser swim with joy. The ** Bank" is evidently "in luck." Among this crowd we discover some two or three persona, who though their dress or manner does not hetoken it, yet from their language, the smallncss <>f their hand*, and a certain degree of superiority about their person, it is evident that they are of genteel origin. <>f tills class theni* one who particularly attracts our attention. Ho ?s seated in moody silence?in a kind of gloomy rcvefie?his face has a pale and haggard ap|>oararicc,and his eyes mil restlessly intlo-ir sockets. Something al?ot him tell* of better days,and the idea is lowly crecpitig over ns that we have seen him before?we approach nearer; and ?..P WW mv im *11 mnt Wfl lire IKM mistaken?we recognite llenry Winter* 1 A thousand thought* |>ani through our mind, as we gate into tlie faee of tlii* n?.w mi*erahle looking Wing. We think of the time when we mw him in the city of \* " ' ; the handiiotne. sparkling, fascinating ami wealthy young Winter* who mored in the highest cire'e*?who graced many a 1*aI1 room scene?who waa the hottorvd guest of many a select party, and who won the heart of the beautiful Alice Wilson I We think too of tbs time that we saw him at 8 's; th? proprietor of tha| splendid and fashionable saloon, honoring him as the mom farored of ll^t aa'nt i'i imaf A* ~ n?^ ? - 7* ? v.*.*..!*, Mm we contnwt that time with the prodcnt, when w? m him MM "hanger Oft*' in one Of the Wme* and omm dogvoaod helb of which < .jjf - ( scan him inoro closely, and we see ihat > | his features arc sallow and bloated?his I eyes are ghastly and blood-shot?his hands shako and tremble as if palsied by i "g^j his whole framo is nervous in the extreme. Wo know it is not a natural excitement that convulses him, and i the conviction is forced uj?on us, that these shnknig, twitching and nervous sensations ?that wild, ghastly and glaring look, are i premonitory symptoms of that most fearful of all affections?that horribly damning disease where the victim is given in this life, a foretaste of what awaits him in the next?w here the imps of his satnnic majesty congregate around his lowly couch, and laugh to scorn the mortal agony that consumes liitu I Winters sat unnoticed in this ruffianly crowd ! At length, near the hour of day-light, when most of the party weie getting tired of the sport, a Imld, dashing looking rowdy slapped him familiarly on the shoulder as lie said : \\ liat is the matter Winters ? Why tin* <1?I don't von plnv !" "I May!" < "Ves p'ny! Aro you dreaming ? Not broke, elt I" Winters answered only by a stare. "lb-re," continued the other, good luiinourediv, thrusting a five dollar bill int< bin hand, "take this; I have been lucky to-night, and can very well lend you a V. Try ; perhaps you may win." Winter* carelessly walked up to the table and stake* his "V," and in a few moments it was doubled. The next minute it waa doubled again, and a third time he tried and waa successful. "Fortune favors me," he exclaimed, sweeping his winnings from ti e board, "I'll trv again." He did try again; day-light dawned, the crowd had "dispersed, and these two men were still at the table. Winters en tered with spirit Into thtr frame ; his passions are aroused, and ere the sun is an hour high, he is the possessor of several thousand dollars. his good fortune forsakes him, and in the course of another hour he is without a dollar. "Here, I stake this," said he drawing from his l?osom a small locket containing the portrait of a young and beautiful girl. His companion took it and gazed earnestly at the faeo so faithfully pictured, as he asks; "Whose portrait is this!" "My Wife's I" The man laid it on tho 'able, mid leaning bis face on a hard brown hand, says as he cl jsely * -an* the face before him : I'll i.Ui- ft.r .1 i? "I otferod yon the portrait if&elf!" says Winters* almost fierce!}-. "Ah, tliat is of hut little value U me, hilt against the original, I will stake one thousand dollars." There is a fierce struggle in tho heart of II? nry Winters; a struggle between honor and crime, llut the latter prevails. The otter is accepted, am] for two hours nothing breaks the stillness save the rustling of the cards, and the suppiested breathing of the excited players At the end of that time, llenrv Winters is the hner. Ilia trembling limb* can scaicely aup|K>rt him as he risen from the table; his countenance ia truly frightful to look upon. The gambler pays no atention to this, but says to Winters as the latter prepares to leave the room : "To-night, I will claim my winnings." "Ah, to-night! tonight!!" yelled the dishonored wretl., *? he ruahed headlong from this den of infamy. lie walks with rapid, but tottering steps in the uireetion or In* own dwelling; he reels like a drunken man as lie walks up the creaking atHtrcnse to litw own cliaiiiImt. lie pause* oil the landing as lie heaps strange voices in his wife's room ; they are paying the last sad offices to the dead. He slugger* in, and U>? ii.-.t object that meet* his gtue is the corpse of his wife ! lie tries to approach it, hot as if in a dream, he is transfixed to the spot; his yes glare as though they arc starting 1 f'oiu their sockets; lie gripe* the fle*h on hi* chest until hi* nails are stained xrith 1 hlnod ; the vein* of his temples swell and hoi I, as though they would hurst their ' narrow boundary, and deluge his hrain with living fire. This lusted for several moments, then uttering one loud, terrible, unearthly yell, he falls heavily to the floor. One hour later, and his limU are as cold and stiff as those of his murdered wife! ' ??? i CHAPTER XIV. WK now leave thia metropolis of the I Rontli, where we have witneased ( two Mich painful scenes, like the , denouement of a *?d and terrible trage- | ilv, ami paaa on to the city of L- , the , theatre njx??? which wae enacted the firat part* of Uie drama. ' \ , !*d o ' | Ae we paea through it* gey ami populous thorough fare* pa* associations both pleaa mt and painful crowd upon u*. We < , think of thoae whom we mat here a few { {earn back, aoma of litem by virtue of fbl- i tping the dictate* of noble, generous ami i virtuous heart*, are slill living contented and happy ; and of other* who choM a different path, who ateeped in crime, rrtfeerj and gink, have net a fearful and just retttbwtion. We drop ataartotha memo- } ry or one, upon whom .ve liave often gazed with feelings of pleasure and delight; who was adorned by all the (rids that Cto?l and naturweould bestow, but who was led by the arts of the seducer, and is now a cold and silent tenant of the tomb! NVe reach that princely mansion on lVarl street, where all seems joyous and glad from without, hut strange voices greet our ears from within ; we pass on to that more retired quarter where we have met those of our friend', in whuin we have seen so much to love, respect ami admire, and as we enter that stately dwelling, our heart boats ' for joy to see the quiet peace and happiness that reigns within. Mrs. Ed go r ton is still here, her broad brow a little more furrowed by age, ami her dark hair is streaked with gray, hut she presents that same calm, placid and sensible appearance that we have so often looked upon with feelings of the highest respect and venerati n. Kosnlie, too is here ; the gentle Rosalie whom we admired in the Hr>t bloom of womanhood; whom wo still admire as the he utifnl tnatmn, and who is none the less neat, tidy and happy, than in the days of her maidenhood. Two or three little ones arc playing around her, their innocent pr <ttie is hoard throughout the room, ami in their clean and tid v appearance, is seen the maternal euro of the mother. \\\. .1 : . ? I ' ' nj?'?u mis vm 11 ii 11 picture oi lomestie bliss, and all our melaneholv (i-eling* are ?.lis|??*)lo<I; but we are interrupted by the voice of Rosalie, a* she says : "Mother, do you know that I ought t be particularly happv today ?" ' Why my dear, because it is your birth day !w "Yes, it is the 29th of August, and you know that is also the anniversary of my marriage." "Seven years from to-day; how many changes have taken place since then !" "If you remember* that was also the vear that Horace and Alice Wilson were to msrrv." "Yes, I was hist thinking of it. and though I dreaded the effect, that dtsap- I poiutmcnt would have upon Horace's after life, jet I believe trow that it was all ' ordered by a wise 1'rovideue.e for the best. I lis lc ters of laie have been verv cheerful." "I wonder what detains him in New Orleans I" "I don't know ; Edward toM me yesterday that he had seen one of the officers f the ? regiment, who left lb-race in j the city, and said that lie appeared more gay and lively than he had ever seen him, but spoke nothing of coining home" "I cannot understand it, and should , think that after three years absence, he would l?e very anxious to get back to 1 L " "Doubtless, business detains him ; but here is Edward, and I think from his J countenance that he has some news to tell i us." Edward Manly, now entered the room ! with an open letter in his hand, and l>e-! fore taking his seat, lie exclaimed : "i now understand the nature t' llor-! ace's tedious business in New Orleans.? | Hern is a letter from hint, in which he t*l!? me that ho is about to he married." "Married!" exclaimed l>oth ladies in a breath. "Yes, married, is there anything so extraordinary in that I" "Not und r .?rJinarv circumstances, certainly;" said Mrs. Edgcrton, "hut this rather took me by surprise, and 1 am truly glad to hear it provide 1 he has met with a partner that is worthy of him." "I should think that he had, from his description of her. but hero is his letter that can speak for itself." "Who is it that he is to marry I" asked Rosalie. "A Miss Cleveland," replied Edward, "and froin all the circumstances connected with the matter, I think that it savours a little of the romantic." From this letter which Mrs. Edgerton 1 now proceeds to read, wo take the lila-rty of making a short extract: "I can now speak and think calmly of a matter that 1 once fully lielieved had ' utterly destroyed every inducement that could make life desirable or even endura- 1 ble, and I almost shudder when I think of the brink of ruin np?n which I stool, and into which my lacerated filings would have prompted me to plunge, when Im?lieving that all the happiness of my life had passed away forever. If any one had said to me in this crisis of my life, tie day will come when you will bless life I ' and be happy, I should have In-anl him j wnn me mil lie ot (inul't, or the anguidi ot 1 incredulity; and yet how earnestly nhould [ now blexA the life, that wilt enable me to exp'-rieiioe thai happine**, which I contemplate with feel inn* of iiiex|?re?*ibl* do light. In the darkext momenta of life, there in alwayaxometbing to look forward to beyond, and it m only thoae who have I felt the dee|>eat grief, that are able to appreciate aupremo happinene. "It i* only a few dayaaince I witnexaed 1 th? interment of both Mr. and Mr*. Win- I ler*. who it aeema bail lived bero *inoe their lemovai from L - -, ami who di.nl under the moat wretched and truly pittabit ciw-untxtancea. Their only child, an intercxting little girl near aeven year* of age, T have taken under my charge and it u Mrs. Cleveland's intention i to adopt her. | "I i a few weeks, I will h ive tin* pleasure of presenting to you the charming Kiln as my blushing bride, and I think that you will agree with me in sa.ing. that she is ali that the most vivid ideal fancy could portray." Three weeks from the date of this letter. Horace arrived in L with his bride, ' the beautiful, atfee innate and lovely Ella Cleveland ; now Mrs. Edgerton. Reader! our tale is done; and if in its perusal you have felt the force of the truths thai we have feebly en cavored to illustrate. we will feel amply reinunera'ed fortius leisure moments employed in bringing it Iref. ro you. We l?eg rou to regar-1 with leniency the unfledged produotioti of one. who. has no pretentions to literary fame: J and we take lenvo of you with the assn ranee that should we ever nreet again, it j shall be with an effort more worthy of your notice and kind consideration. Minus ^tinuo, '/:t. j The Vatican. This word is often used, but there are ; many who do not understand its ini|M>rt. The term refers to a collection of buildings on one of the seven hills of Rome, which covers a space of 1*200 feet in li-tigth and 1000 feet in breadth. It is built on the spot once occupied by garden of the cruel Nero. It owes its origin to the llishop of Rome, who in the early part of the sixth century, erected a hum* Mo residence on its site. About 'ho year 1 150. Pone Eiurenius rebuilt h <>n;i <rr:nnl sca'c. Innocent II., :i few years afterwards, gave it up as at lodging to Peter II., King <>f Arrngon, 130o, Clement V., at the instiga ion of the King of France, removed tlm I'ap .I Sec from Iloinu to Avignon, when the Vatican remained in a condition of obscurity and uegleet for more tliau 70 years. 15ut soon after the return of the pontifical court to lhuue, an I event whieii had I so earnestly prav- 1 ed t'? r l?y the poor Petrarch, and which | tin IIy took place in 1.17'), the Vatican I was put into a state of repair, again en largo I, and it was thenceforward eonsid ered as the regular palace and residence of the l'opes, who, one after another, ad !e?I fresh buildings t ? it. and gridudh enriched It with antioiiities, statues, pie tuns and hooks, until it hccatnc the richest deposit) IV ill ill!* world. The library of the Vatie .il was com- j ineiiecd fourteen hull lied years ago. It ! contains 400.0<l0 in.i'Uis -vipts among j which are some bv I'litiv, St. l ie mas. St.(diaries 1 lorromee, ami manv ll?'hrew, Syriae, Arabian, ami Armenian l?il>!es. The whole of tie immetie buildings composing the Vatican, are filled with statues, found heuealh the ruins of ancient Koine; with paintings by the masters, and with curious medals ami antiquities of al most every description. When it is known that there have been exhumed more than 70 000 statues from the ruined temples and Palaces of Home, the reader j can form some idea of the riches of the e .: ? illicitII. The Vatican will bo ever hel l in vener- I tion by the student, the artist ami the scholar, flufttclo ami M'-ohnel Augclo are enthroned there, their throne will be as enduring as the love of !>eauty and genius j in the hearts of their Worshippers.? Rich Whij. 8ardines. A Paris letter to the Washington re public saya :?"flow many sardines do you suppose have been taken this year ti)?ou the coast of lirittauy, two hundred miles long? Five hundred and seventysix millions. Half of them are to be preserved and sold fr.?h, and half are to lie put down in oil. One hundred and sixty vessels, manned by five thousand five hundred sailors ami fishermen, are engaged in the trade. The preparation, transpi rt, And sale of the fish, employ ten thousand persons. Nine thousand of these are occupied all winter in the making and men ding of net*. The fishing lasts two hundred days, and yields a net profit to all concerned, of three million franc*. The sardines disappear in November and return in April. Where they go during these four months, why they go, or what they do while gone, has never been discovered. 'fho fishermen say that the ame individuals never come twice?that every successive arrival is composed offish much smaller than those that last left? and that they appear to lie their young. At any rate, they count implicitly on their appearance; and no sardines was ever known yet to break an engagement thus tacitly entered into." a Hi'ictkr of kbktvckv.?The correspondent of the Evsn*ville Journal writes as follows about a Kentucky hunter;?"Wat Fckinan hn* fnllissnwl I...I b . fl>r * livelihood since the year 185} I.? j Since that period he sacs helm* killed 88 bear*, 684 wolset, 8,847 cooas, POO toxe* 001 wiM frwe. 2.040 pheasants, 44 l?routwl hofl*, 80 wild cat*, 14 polecats, 200 minks, la-side squirrel, quail, and other small game taynpd his power to calculate. Then suna ha has tislW from his game, skins, Acc., (Wlfc h?l Htt'? short of twolre It lian Indolence. A letter w rtu-rsays:? llir.i !reds of men in Italy aii! employed in painting 'Mldonnas" for the cottages of t!io ) ca>ants, iittle daubs of the Virgin Mary, the household gods of a superstitious rnce. . Vast liolds of lint and hemp may be seen in most parts of the peninsula; but the labourers, who for ages ought to have been busy converting their produce into garments, rope nr.d sailcloth, have been building palaces, cutting marble, and studying jaunts. Every on.* posses!cs a bad picture, but an iUlurnished house; a lifad of l)ante. but jMVireelv siiHi.-iciit. i-lnlliinw ' . j - ; o tu appear in open day. While our inid! 'lie daisies enjoy the luxuries which reproI iluetive in<!u~lrv places within their reach j the admirer of aesthetic excellence south of the Alps knows nothing of the comforts "I Innue. 1 Miring the day he muy lounge in tin; galleries where (initio delights the eye; hut in thu i Veiling he returns to a dreary room in some old pala/.zo, where, by the light of a glimmering candle, ho gropes his way to a tottering crullo and a erazv bod. Ho may be aihle critically to examine the masterpiece of Titian; hut as .a man of business he is on a par with the Chippeway. An Knglisli school-bov has more ac juaintaucc with real life, and the backwoodsman on the Missouri can better appreciate the useful aits. Manufactures, literature and politics are excluded from the thoughts of a people thus unnaturally engrossed with the beauties of design; and when any unforsei n c urrcnce disarranges the outward haimony of things,they rush to extremes, behave like ii rational creatures, and rh'et their chains llow long wi'I sue s a state of things lastl is a question frequently asked by travellers in Italy. Two Pictures to Stufiy, "Father is coining!" ami little round fiees grow long, and meriy voices aro hushed, and toys are hint ted into the closet, ami matiuiiM glahccs nervously nf the door, and baby is brib.-d with a lump of sugar to keep ih? peace ; and father's business tice relaxes in it a muscle* and the little group huddle like timid sheep in a comer, and tea is de-patched as silently a- if peaking were prohibited by the statute book, and the children creep like culprit ? to bed, marvelling that baby ilaro inin ?) louii. now mat, "rawer ms c>me." "Father is coming!" ami bright eyes ?p.uk!?' I'T joy and tiny t"?t dance with glee, and i'iipi r faces press against the 1 windovv-pane, and a bevy of rosy .ilia j.kiim kisM's at the dour, and picture-books lie- Ui.rebuked on llm tut and to) s, and halls, and dolls, and kilos are disciised, and little Snsv lavs her soft check against tin* p. i Je n a I whiskers with the most fear* le?s abandon" and Charley gets a lovo pit for his "inedri!," and mamma's face j arows radiant, and the evening? paper is ioiiI, (not silently, hnt aloud,) and tea, and toast, and time vanish with equal celerity. for jubilee has arrived, ami "Father h'iscome r' t?T A bachelor friend of ours is about getiing married for no other reason than to have some one to care for him when ha is sick. The treatment he received at a fashionable l<oarding house," when ho last, had the ague, has cured him not only of single lite, hut single hedstenaa and single mattresses. 1I<* ordered, he savs the servant girl to lising hint up some gruel on Monday morning, which never readied him till the nctt Wdnesday afternoon. During his whole confluement not a single sold visited him save the young gentleman who dlists tlie knives; and h< c.-.roo not for tl o j.nr, o>? of "administeringconsolation," hut to inform liiin that "Missus would be much obliged if Mr. Skce*icks would do his slinking on a chair, so as not to get the bedstead apart. This was the feather that I roke the back of Skeesicka' bachelorship. From that moment he resolved to cnnno^i )>!> with n piece of dimity. Who can Mama him? No one who has evere MMed a confirmed bronchitis though a fashionable hoarding house.?JJutchrAan Mrs. Stowe was not loi g >iiioe applied to for aid to purchase the freedom of a tamiiy in the south Sho expre*aed great love end sympathy f r the colored race hut didn't i/ire a red rent, tJT Before thy days of the teetotal* lets, a neighbor of I)r. Di*bee *?w that gentleman, at an early hour of the day erawling slowly homeward on hi* bunds and knees ever the frozen ground. "Why don't you get up, Mr. Blabee? Why don't you get up. and walk?" said hin neighbor. ' | w-w-wonld b-h-bnt it's so almighty thin here that I'm a-? afraid f shall l?-b- .? break through!" A C-'iTRtosirv.?Tlie limn who is uotMai, much in favoj of tcrajwranyo n? aoy* ffr If you doubt whether two akulU ir? hoUcr, than one, jn?t undertake to row again?t the <ide aoino day. Never marry untH yen can free the iJwtata o' the hub-Her, fiwtr. dr*?Bin ?'a I veil y- ighteou*