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J / /? i"~~ ?-w pat#. For all advertisements set in double colnmn, Fiftj per Cent- extra will be added to the above rates. DAVIS ?fc CREWS, For Banner ; J- LEE A WILSON, - ;. For PrtKt. Notice to Subsctibets. Upon consultation with our friends of the Al?: beville Banner we have come to the following understanding: That after the lot of April, "next, we shall charge for nil subscriptions, not paid within aix months $2,50 and $3 00 if not paid within one year. The pressure of the Time* has forced upon u? the necessity of urging prompt payment upon our Patrona. The amount doe u? for snbscription. nrc separatel uuull, but in the ngeregate swell to a large urn, and if not promtly paid, subject ue to great inconveniences. Our payments ore cash ; and we mutt require-our friends to enable us to meet them. Experience has also impressed us with the propriety of charging for Obituary Notices which exceed a certain length { vnd we shall henceforth charge for the exc*K? ov+r nn> ?q?*re, at the usual advertising rates. MISCELLANY. Ashamed of Ills Mother.?A few ye^ri.since, a young clerk wan pointed out to the .write)*, in the city of Boston, as an - object of special curiosity, for the following '* reasons:?lie was handsome, but poor and pround. The clothos on his back, and in oit Uunk, were all that he was worth, and ' perhaps more. His mother is a very pious widow* in very humble circumstances ami was much neglected by her unfaithful son. \ Jle was suddenly taken sick, and a dangerous .fever followed. lie was soon glad to ?e?d for his neglected parent to administer jr his'want*. She came with a mother's love ' )Vfnd watched at his bedside by night and by day, with a mother's tenderness. Provid*nce interposed, and the young man recover ?red. ' One day a shopmate called iu to see Hm,' when he introduced his own mother as Kli nurse! He Wai ashamed of her lowly U ?ftP??ranyel because it disclosed his bumble >. origin, and .he took this cruel heathenish 1 "Way to mislead his associate. Place such example of dawn-right barbarity in contrast, with the filial devotion of Lawrcnc. -!* ? and it soem* like the deed of Rome untulori i ?d Hindoo or South Sea Islander. Ashamed '* to confess his humble origin! The curse of God will follow him to his gravo, unless , Ins life is marked by a chango. Every -r honorable sentiment of humanity condemns >*' tucb want of affection, while it approves the "'"^opposite in the faithful Lawrence. Men J* -despise tho one, and admire the other. i n - ^ ft m -.o?< - f . ~r, o-t,. Animals axd Mrs.?The lean, ill-fed t, sow and rabbit, rear, it bus long been know n, ? 1 Wgreatly more numerous progeny than the fame animals when ^jared for and fat: and T r**ery tiOree rtftd^iaUle breeder knows that I. VU ?k_-1 ??if v?wiwjiio nnimmi prove* a sure mode xxf-rendering them sterile. The sheep, if ?Ol#rable well pastured, brings forth only a '7,\*)rfglaiamh at a birth ; butif half starved "o.' *iid Main,'the cbauces are that it mfcy brine; "fotth two or three. And so it ?< also, with . ,,.--tlwgr6atly higlrtf 'bum?n race. Place tljom ' ><? <! circumstances ef degradation and Wd SJ %btp) so ext'eme as *tm<59t to threaten their as iridi*idaal?, aifd the^ increase, I'M ufu?M> o ?pewe?, wim It rapidity ?/{: wiihfkit precedent in circum?tances of great* ^ *rr comfort. The aristocratic families of *t couotry are contfntfallr running oatj and it frequent creation to goof ap the H<so?eof Lord*; whereat oor poorer peopte ioeveaaing infeore Uiao arilbro^Ucrtfc ** * WrtW In Syne,-though folly two-thiwl^ of pboulaLlon emiirrutM Ml\r (4&h? " Yaff ^lbV-kst cefitory-, * singlo generation ?<u bn4*cuic<* pww^e 'tfiw jfnpm* c?m ? ^Uteljr filled, ?nd .roisenible Iretoad, l it ^'>^^(Bd1*rtrt^e' firaW,-lro\ild bee J of Vre^'"1, jjj^ J* '-"T" i1} IN Tho Chapol Choristers. "Gloria in Excelsisl" rang through the little chnpcl in a clear volume of sound that lose above tho aecompainment of the organ, ami was just shaded and softened by the flute-like tenor that aecompained that aingli? female voice. Many of the sunlirowned seamen who worshiped there knew the voice nnd the sintrvf. n?irl ilm - 3-., ..wkVIIVU illU IIIUIV VllHIOia, UU* &iuse of her, to the chants alio psalms, and tlie sermon thrit followed. It was "English Bessie" who mine among their wives and children on many a kindly errand, and had always a cheerful word for the sick and desponding. The men called her "a hearty lass," and wished many a "blessing on her honest face." Their wives, in Sunday dress, and proud of the stalwart arms on which they leaned, "thought it shame" that she had not choscn from among the rough and hardy wooers by whom she was surround..,1 Prayer and chant were over, and llic still acrnion-tiine came, when Hessie's duties were ended ; and she drew the crimson curtain aside to look and listen with the rest. Tlio warm summer sun came quivering from the water through the lance-shaped windows, and lighted up the pale, grave face of the clergyman in his pulpit and the strancelv Fathered auilir-nro Some were boatmen, or hands from coasting vessels, whose occupation allowed them Insure for home and its comforts. They were surrounded l>v their wives and little ones in all the smartness of their Sunday costume, relieved by scarfs or shawls of bright foreign weaving, the gift of some successful re- . lative on a return voyage. The children . sat uneasily on the high benches, atul looked at the flies on the window, or studied the ^ pictures in their prayer-books, as children will. Those were, the m/M-a ' _ ...... u ivgUldl ItbLCll* dants of the chapel. And there were men whose dress had no pretention to Sunday neatness, who scarcely knew one day of the week from another, except that the seventh was, in some sort, a day of rest even with the ^ hardest captains under whom they sailed ? who were there they scarcely knew how or why,from idle whim or vague rurositv, to hear th6 music or "what the parson would have to say, gathered literally from the highways aud by-ways, and compelled to come in. ileat and cold were alike lo them so long as they could lead fn the "common praise"and respond to the "common prayer" v.. nmcc hi miuiii mey mils- -eiwrinneri untiring interest?to England Iiessie, for the -sake of, the father, and brother buried by one wave from the sainfe wreck; and to the blind man' at her side, whofie while bands ditw such noble music from the organ's kfere, whilo he sang the pure, clear tenor of wbieli we spoke. He sat with his face turned towards Bessie, as if his sightless eyes longed to know the features of this familiar friend, whom he had never yet seen. His long hair, thrown backward from n forehead that had never known exposure, touched the broad linen collar, turned over a simple ribbon, tied carelessly about the threat. His dre=s was simple and far from new, but neat, so neat that you wondered to know a wo man's hand had not arranged it. Music was nt once his passion and his livelihood. For the rest, he had no relatives and no dependence. 'It was a singular friendship that had grown up between these two, who met not elsewhere; and when ihc sermon was done, was pleasant to see the sisterly care with which she handed him his hat and stalT, and led him down the narrow stairs, where he must have groped slowly but for her hand. "Ilero is the sill, Richard," she said, "and here the door; and there is the rector wiiaiug 10 spenn with you." But tbe quick ear of the blind man discovered another step, and though he listened to the kindly words of the grave rector, he lienrd an invitation given and refused where Bessie stood at the door of the vestibule. "What did he want?" asked Richard, in the quick, exfcited manner peculiar to him, as his hand was once more placed in that firm, reliant clasp, and she led biro over the swaying plank to the shore. "Steady 1 There, now you are on the wbnrf," miu) n? miv nugni nave Rdothed nil excited child. "Who! What? Alletil" "Yes, Allen# heard his voice when Mr. Storey1" was talking. VPhen did the Best come in t lie has had quick trip.* "''Not terthe usual time. There, now, Y6t1<<rt nnl 1 -1 ? " j ..Uvu thjt uaim miy longer." "Why do ydxx take it away, Bessie I?* There is a crossing yet,irad those piles of liitnWr.n 1 "V.J -- J -l? ' V ? a?"M i?ugnea pleasantly?"but you know tliero ? well ok I do. >,Vou could lead me here." *-xoH .U ' cotil&,nh? anwawrffetF be|o* bis breath, for tlii? tfthdneM wasslUVadprk horror to hina. I* ^ ^fojqhaMlfrJMMNp? .-.cc.i j -??d: 1 ^ e w.ik "lyy^Vt ,v: . . *_v _ . X you going to bo married ?" he added, al>- p ruptly. si Hut Bessie only pointed out a loose round w stone in the crossing, as if she did not hear the question. h . "Mother's not so well to day, and I can ni not go as far as usual," she said, as they fi| entered a narrow, crooked street. "How ai bright nnd pleasant it must look out at the h asylum now with all the roses in bloom 1" "Yet, if one could sec them." "I '"Richard,you arc not thankful to night w f?r irl.nl . I < ' jvu tun t-aiu me young girl. 11 earnestly. "You have n cheerful home and fresh sweet-scented air and cheerful society." ? "Go on, Bessio. You mean "while you w are shut up in this close street with a sick hi mother, and your bread to gain by your at needle." But then there is Allen !" and the di gloomy tone came back again. "Let liiin be there," Bessie answered, de- i" cidedly, pausing at her own door-stone.? Richard, you sang Benedict, anima mea'this tl afternoon; reinen.ber it on your way home, tr I shall, so long as my mother has a shelter, tl and I have health and strength to work for ai her. Take care now, and look out for the fo carriages and the crossing. I Shall have ki time for a pratice hour on Wednesday eve- fe ning. You may come to tea if you like." ?' The blind man's staff rang upon the pave- I] merit ns he went on his lonely way, not b< snowing mat sue sioocj upon ilie door stone, ;uid watched for his safety so long as In; hi was in sight. lie did not know what'should hi make him so restless and disturbed about It 1 his marriage. It was right and natural, 01 ind what he could have wished for Bessie, si riiey would be finely paired?the high-spirited, energetic woman and her sailor lover lie so tall, and bronzed, and stalwart, as. 13 uessies nusoand ought to bo; Frank and 'e jenerous, as sailors ever are. n< Richard Langdon, tlio blind music-teach- h; jr, atill lived at the asylum where hu had M itudied his beautiful art, with the love and d< lonfidenco of pupils and teachers. The rooms were of noble propotion?>, the grounds Ii fragrant with sweet-scented shrubbery, and "i cool with the shadow of heavy foliage. ?] Here he walked, that slilll Sabbath after- ai noon, and thought upon his aimless, joyless childhood, and what if he had had a sister re like Bes.-ie to cheer it. There were many hours when his mind preyed upon itself; it H had always:been so in the pauses of study, but never so much as now. tc So ho wandered down the rose walk, listened to the murmur of voice that rose from w me pwy-grounn oeyoiui the garden, and 1:1 Gnvjrlng the children their Sabbath rest and hi peace. Rnthis mind would go back to Bes- hi 9ie and their first acquaintance, when she ^ name to offer her fresh, strong, but untrain- <h ed voice, to .assist him to lead in the chap- ei el music. His nature was no gentle that it her quick, stirring way was not pleasant to him at first : it was not his idea of woman- ti linAK. TTA I.~*? c 5 I?v UViLVI V? lieu ilU lOUlia 01 how much in earnest she was to improve m this one talent, and h?v grateful for his in- Ii structions. Now when they was together (:s he laid aside the timid uncertainty of step and manner trusting to her guidance.? ft When she was married, all these pleasant walks and rehearsals must end, for she would have new duties and companionship t| and pleasures. No wonder ho was restless J] and disturbed. si The pale, gentle widow had a welcome for him when the appointed evening came ; tr and he 6at down near her in the open door, ll until Bessie should come in. Ho could feci st liiu-neatness ol Nil arouud him, and heard ai the cat purring in the door-sill, and the tc kettle singing it* pleasant evening Rong in r} the outer room. It was nil so still and 01 homelike to him?though be had never tc known a homo but in his dream ; so different from the clatter of feet through the b: corridors of the asylum, the opening and st shutting of doors, the hum of children conning their lessons, or the discordance of the h tortured muscial instruments under hands of tl unskillful pupils. He wondered if the gay ai boisterous sailor would aDDrer-.iatp. tl?I? 1 l' ?r n?- ,v rest, so dear to him, and Bessie's invalid w mother, with her dedicate tastes and in- h stincts. c; When tea was over and the household duties were ended for the day, though it 31 was pleasant to hear Bessie go so easly about them, she came, for the first timn, c and sat down by hfei on the door-stone, for " the house was one of those low, old'fashion- lJ ed tenemonts where you step from the street ? into the dwelling-room at once. Tlio street * was still and deserted, save now and then n solitary footstep echoed along the pavement, c and 4<od away io the shadows beyond.? M A mas/ive, but long disused warehouse, ?, built when this narrow street had its great d commercial fame and influence, loomed op- 8 posite to them, the iron-doors and shutter- ^ less vrindows gleaming io the moonlight, ? an ntJ "D ?? ?1 ' * - vws/vu, UHW w JW1MB I* pitHSftnl * ' neighbor. It was better to sit by her win- I <fciw nnjfc'lMaghw the days of its itndept bustle and opulcnce, tban to watch'the b^ '' management of ?0ra8<tfiirtUe8s housclM?ber, loasant to sec it so sol'tlv shadowed ; and to described it to the blind man as she oil Id have drawn the picture of h friend. And vet she could not draw a portrait of prself that satisfied him. She always turc-d away ?kh sumo jest upon her stout [jure and heavy features, which displeased nd anoved him, for lie never could make er any thing but beautbill in his niind. "I will ask her now,'1 thought Richard, icfore any one has a claim upon her;" and it It quick impulse, he prefered a long-inulged, but unsicken request. "If you will only let me touch your hair -your face, one instant, Bessie, ns I do hen I wish to know my friends and pupils etter,I shall he more contented when you -e Allen's wife. You have been such a ear, true friend to me!" She took up both his bands, and, stoopig, laid them on her bowed head. "As I thought." he murmured rather inn spoke; and his hands shook and embled, though she was so quiet beneath icii touch. "Soft, wavy liair; it is brown, id silken as a child's. The broad,open >rehead, that belongs lo you, Tie^sio. I now bow your eyes look now, honest awl arless and very trutliful; such long lashes, id your chcek so round and smooth?? low could you tell mo that you were not /autiful I" * ' Because I am not," she said, taking his finds again. "And feel how hardened mv unds are, while yours are soft and white. , is an ugly contrast, and so and so are ir faces and characters and dispositions," )C added, presently. "I knew?but Allen is mnnlv and hardy id cheerful. I was not always so gloomy, essie; truly I was not. But I grew so restss and dependent and homesick?I can 3t describe it any other way?yet I never a\e bad. anil nevi>r sh;il! ? t. ich as other men win for themselves, who ;> not know how to prize it as I should." "It is almost time for the rehearsal," said essie.as if to lead him from lit is hopeless iood, "and mother has fallen asleep there pou her pillows. Come, let us go, Richd." She drew his arm within hers as they >so, and they walked on toward the river, r the chapel was scarcely a stono's-throw. [e longed to say more, to tell her all that le touch of that bowed head had revealed j ' in, nun piiraiuiiaiviy ne loved her, how uubly hateful his blindness and dependence ere to him for her sake, how doubly soiiiry his life would always be for having nown her and for her care over him ; but e struggled with this stormy mood bravely, >r ho knew he had no right to lay the burin of his misfortunes at any woman's feet, ren if she were free to take it up and boar onward for him. So they walked on in silence for a little me until they began to hear the soft plash f the incoming tide against the wharves id the sides of the vessels lying at anchor, recalled the trim schooner Bess and her ipiam to Ins mind. 'When are you to be married 1" he nsk1, abruptly. '"Soon I hope." "Do you, Richard ?" "Yes, it is better to be soon ; nnJ again ie strong tide of feeling rushed to his lips, [e pressed his teeth into them, so that he iould say no more. "When, then," said Bessie, her voico embling a little?lie had never known lis before?"I am going to make you a range proposal, not strange, for it is right id best; mother thinks as I do. You nru i be my husband, Richard, wlien I do mar \for you love me as Allen docs not and in not, arid need me more than he, as I >ld him when he asked me to bo his wife." "T Bessie 1 Poor and blind ! I your bus*nd !" He reeled as if a sudden blow had ruck, but she upheld him steadily. "If you do not wish it, Richard, it ends er<. You know me well enough in these tree years to know that I mean all I say, iid that I had only to assure myselfofyour >ve before I allowed mine to lie ?w?en. Y.m ould never have asked this of mo :. but ere I am. I offer myself, my love, nnd !?re, and companionship to you, if you will ike it.O: Richard, let me be home, and .rength, nnd sight to you always." It was well that they had reached the hnpe), for the courage with which slio had erved herself was fast forsaking*^her. * By ?e dlfn light she saw their rector bending ver his books in the vestry, aa was his wont 'ncn ne expected lliera mere. The blind eard the Advancing step and kindly we!ome, as be came forward la the chancel, nd the sound of other voices in the loft bove them. "Makeit real? it''i?A8ll a renm," be said, and they knelt, dtfwh together for -their Dastor's blessin<r. for ha new all that was jih their hearty, and that eocfcforth the chant of thanksgiving would otno. froxa tbo inhfjroost depth* of Richard <angfdon'? oul?' J ; 1 ."\V|ld'<ifowiifcth roe with mcrcy and lorMr kind new." - . y-.ui.. <{ .tw.u-j.w -<*n ? m -i.ao. *1*ui P^pa.oWn pr$%; Fr o m Life Til u&tr at td. Smiles and Blushea. Svrcet the blush of dawning mora t Flushing o'er the nrcliiiig sky, ( Hern 1(1 of the ?luy unborn. I ^ Closing eaeii sweet starry eye. Sweet the blush of tiny flowers, < Answering tluj blush of tlnwn; < Iliding, nl the noontide hours t 'Neath the be?ulie? of the lawn. I owcci uic Minij> c?i ak-1 ti g o r, < Blushing "ileal li the muni ing miii ; , Sweet lli?i laughing brooklet's llo v, , Smiling purely as the}' ruil. I Pure the gaze of starry cys, I Smiling on the world beneath ; I Sweet the heaven's unriviiled d3'ec. ] Blushing in cloud-woven wrenthi, Sweet the diamond dew-drops smile, ' 111 ine eiai-p ot tiny leaves; Smiliim hftrvcst-tlelds, llie while, 1 Shadow forth the ripened shenvos. ( Smiling bud and latijrhini* Woom llvrnlJ every luscious cluster; 1 Smiling e'en in darkest gloom, < Blushing iu their chastened luctrc. j Purely smiles the sky so blue ; Sweet the floating cloud-edge blushes, ' Glowing with u heavenly hue, I Where the shaded sunlight flushes. < From the modest maidens check, Smile and blush have banished guilel Winsome beauties?they bespeak Virtue's sweetest, parent smile. < Why. tlion, wear the brazen frown OVr the heart's besi, warmest gushes? Spurn it, ati'l your beauty crown, With the charm of smiles and blushes. Tbc Modol Gentleman of Franco. Lnnis the Fourteenth of Franco was so perfect a gentleman, we are to!?l, that he never passed a woman, from a housemaid < to a lady, without raising his hat. This < was extremely polite, indeed ; but the Duke St. Simon tells us a littlu more about his extreme oreeuin<r :?"ins ljard-lieartedness was extreme. At the lime when lie was ' most inclined towards his mistresses, whatever disposition they might labor under, ( even the most opposed to traveling and to appearing in full Court dress could not save thein Iron? either. When enccinlc, or ill, or just li-eti froin childbirth, they must 1 needs be Kjnczcd into lull dress, go to Flan- ' deis or further, dance sit up, attend fetes, i eat, be merry and good company ; go from ( place to place; appear neither to fear, nor to be inconvenienced by heat, cold, wind or dust; and nil this precisely to the hour, ! and day without a minute's grace. The ' King, who was fend of air. liked all the , windows to be lowered ; he would hnvc been ] much displeased had any lady, drawn a curtain for protection noainst snn. wind m >.?.!. I No iucouvenienco or inconimodity was kI- ' lowed to bo even perceived ; and the King always went away quickly, most frequent- , Iv with relay. To faint was a fault past hope of pardon. Madame de M:\intenon, who feared the air and .ninny inconveniences, could gain no priviledge over tho others. All she obtained, under pretence of modes* \ ty and other reasons, was permission to journey apart; but whatever condition she might be in, she was obliged lo follow the King and be ready to receive hiin in her rooms by tlie time he was ready to enter them. She made inauy journeys to Marly t instate such as would have saved a servant j from movement. She made one U> Fontainableu when it seemed not unlikely that she would die on the road! In whatever condition she might be, the King went to | her at his ordinary hour, thought several , times she was in fowl, profusely sweating ?way a fever. The King who, as I have said, was fund of air, and feared warm rounis, was astonished, upon arriving to find everything close slint and ordered tho windows to foe opened ; would spare them an in?*!i and up to 10 o'clock, when he went to supper kept them opened, utterly regardless of tlie cool night air, although he knew well what a state she was in. If there was to be music, fever or headache availed not; a hundred wax candles Hashed all the name in her eyes. The King, in fact, always followed his own inclination, without ever asking whether she was inconvenienced." The English Schoolmaktkrb Anno ad. i ?The popular ignorance of this enlightened ( age is something astounding. Only theoiher day a zealous antiquary, looking for Dryden's house, in Fetter Lane, made some in- ' quiry of tlie policeman. "Dryden, Sir." < said the latter, "Drvden?" Is he a man n j little backward in his rent?" Less exeusa- | ble was the observation of an eminent silversmith lo a customer, who, admiring some 1 exquisite piece of silver chasery* remarked, 1 "flow this would have delighted Cellini P < We shall bo happy to show it lo Mr. Ctrl- , lini, any day he will look in," was the polite observation, .in reply.* To ascend in the grille, we may remark that .wo hfeve heard-of a knight who, on having |lunby- *' inofla aitf iliim ? ? ^uiukvw.vu. iv WIUI luuwu ?cry uu* i conscious tlint * landmark of history ^ns , ht'fore hirri; buftpn being tdld that it was tho spot where tmi Barons fo/c?d King John ' to sign .Magna Clmrta,ex<Uimfcd "forced His 1 Majesty ? did they indeed I how very im- i proper!" Let-Ms g'cfk step Ujgher still; and J take an iHoArfltlbn" ftdm that spng .^f!no- j bility who liav.iug failed in a competitive^*' ( lyrjiiwitiunwas asked by, ,a .^ood-oatured ,friend how it happened.; u6h.p said ihtfi 1 rvh'.iUed tamliriatA. ''it ?m' all ihmiu*li' o ? ? ?_ -??r fellow who nskad me questions I didn't ex* pec't.* What did lie examind" : "6h! History' i? ausweited the ^oungariat^ MV MAtifiunt or - modern 1" - "Ancient or fug- '' dorti l', e*cfaHiied,<bo ydtrtto, -whb arrair of ' |,.?d .??l ,>.wA oj nlgn if\, UX;ii?iTp^n^. ' \W tfjfMt txMU t * # *#? r '' X ;.v..: Tho Turn of Destiny. r About ten o'clock one evening, towards ? lie closo of the century, when Franco was fi convulsed by tlio horrors and outrages of t lie Revolution, a small room in an unfre- v juen'.ed street r>f Paris contained a solitary H'Ciipnnt. IIu appeared to be a young man n .1" about twenty-five years of ago. On was ji -.lender, but not tall, and the smallness of e >is figure was contrasted with the largeness j( his head. Ilis countenance, palid and I "arc-worn, w;is characterized l?V an expres- i non of firmness, and by the piercing bril- * iancy <>f his eyes. lie sat at a small table \ in liis diminutive apartment, perusing a let- ( tcr whi?;h lay open before him. When he f. Iiad finished, he rpse hastily from-his chair, ) ind began pucing the room, uttering with r iiicrgetic, gestures, the following sentences : i "Can this be so! Is it novsiV.'r. ilmi I ..... f _ I ...... Mill reduced to the want of even the necessaries ' af life! Must my actions he clogged by the ' need of a few pieces of yellow metal! It I must not he so. Cursed, cursed gold!" he u'Xclairned, clenching :i coin in his hand ' furiously, and tossing it to the other end of ^ I lie room. But in a few moments he picked it up again, and continued : "The ungrate "ul wretches! It was I. I, who beat ofTtho 1 Miemy, who, but for my interposition, ' might now be reveling in Paris. And yet 1 they refuse me employment, and keep me hero starving. When I asked for some po- 1 lition, the reply was too young. The fools! ' ?Tlicy do not know that study and exper- 1 ienoe compensate for the lack of years! Anil I told thorn as much. And not only must I bear my own troubles, but those of my re- i latives. My mother writes that she is in a lest it ute condition. I cannot help her !" > After a short pause, he cried, with sudlen energy : "But I have a remedy ! Why | diould I drag on this miserable life} I will not do it I" And seizing a pistol from the | table, he applied it to his head. "But no," , he said, after a moment's pause, "not in this way ! I will rush to tho Seine, and con- ? :eai alike my body and my fate from the i sye of man !'' I Saying this, he hastily rushed from his room, and down tlie narrow stairs, and issued into the street. Walking in silence for ? ibout half an hour, he rama upon a bridge jver tho Sei.ic.?Casting his eye about, to , tee that no one was present, he strode to one ( >ide of the bridge, and After loaking over ( ii'Ant <1.* -: ? -1 J ' ' ......v iv <.uv amv iiiiu prepared mill- j self for a run and pluge. But just at this moment lie felt a hand on his shoulder, and | i voice accosted him: "What, hoi. my i friend, so you would drown yourself, would ] j*ou ? Good heavens. Napoleon!" the | stranger continued, "is this you ? Alas, what ] sould have brought you here ?" I ' That which is the inducer of all suicides ?misery," was the mournful answer of Napoleon. I "Misery ! But what caused your misery 1' "The lack of money." 1 "Pshaw I is that all?'' said the stranger. < ?"You certainly can't bo so destitute ns to < .hink of killing yourself. Come, my good Yicnd,"when a man has enough to eat and ivear, lie should not think of death." I "But I have only one dollar," said Na- i }olcon; "and my mother is starving for I tvant 01 money.'' ' "I* it possible!" said tho stranger. "I I in J no idea that it had coino to this. But < iere is a purse of gold. Take it, and relieve c /our mother"* Napoleon eagerly clutched tho gold, and mrricd away. The stranger looked after , lim with astonishment, und pursued his course. 1 Several years after the abovo event, a | man was w ending his way in a thinly pnpu- j ated portion of the suburbs of Paris. Tho ( Lraveller, seated on horseback, was proceed- < ng slowly, and seemed absorbed in deep i meditation. A few hundred yards in front * -jf him lay the river Seine. As soon as he lind reached tho river, he paced slowly along ts bank until he came to a largo bridge, j when dismounting from his horse, h e tied t to a post, and.,walked leisurely along until* lecaine to a particular spot, where he stop-, ( :>ed. The bridge was deserted, and liftd the , ippearance of having boon long fallen into lisuse. The horseman seemed struck with 1 sudden emotion at tho sight, and as hi) stpod ' n one side, looking over into the clear blue j water,-apparently inadvertantly, he uttered ! Iils'thoughts aloud : " With what thoOgbta | Jo these plar.es inspire me! What a mighty } effect have thoae still* deep waters beneath ' [rte,4fwd &rithode*iiniesof theworM. IIore, ' % few years ago, in the dead of nighf, I met , * man, destitute and friendless, aboht to burl himself into the wives. I prevented him. And now, that roan, raised to the nin v - I baclo 'of fom,e,Is ma*t?r of the fortunes and* treasures of lite world." -TV, ? '3 "And has cope to thank And revrnr&yovn- ' Dffm?8is!"iuttfi*ea a- voiea behind fijno, jntrd. ' immediately ho found himself locfced in tbe . JT- tow - ; ; iJ-x: ?. : * embrace of a.mao.. i ti..-i " - wN,M{?lcoh r crifrd jDefrtoK iwd , \j ret^rntdNifte.f. eaftv continued-, "I beg yobr rtiaje#ly'e. parti pi* tbr-'rtiy fr^dbm.^ i:V'- ^ 'vv . V? - . . till. Let us forget the distinction of - ??on? rch nnd subject, and Converse l\k? Ifyo ricnds. I3o\v glad I antj my fi iend, to-ihftVA his opportunity of discharging (li? df^bt rItiuh I owe von." ' ? -.c "Your tiiaj.'st-y owes me nothing," sntd Donasis; ''I only prevented voli from dronnitg yourself, as I would hare done any' crtl?? r." "But the gold?you forget the gold, friend* low often, since that night, have t sought ne to snatch the money and hurry away vithoUt even thanking you. But I assure :ou, monamic, so soon as I thought of qiy ronduet I hurried hack here, hut voU wer? a... ~ * > * - ;<juu. - Aim since men my c-Uorts to find *ou have been unsuccessful till nowr.? But low, tli at f have rrtught you,"' he con tin* led playfully, "I will see that you consent o to take hack that money, and eouieihjng norc beside. But why, since my accesson to power, did you Hot make. yout>elf cnaffcn to me ?'* "I had no nend of the monctj" replied iemasis, "an 1 I have been leading a cUeerul, happy life on my farm." * ; ' So you wore afraid that I would, drag ;ou from your privacy, eh 1 But, come ilong," said Napoloon, pulling him by irro. "Let us take lurrae, and talk .over ,hcsc matters at the Tuilleries." ^ Mounting their horses, the Emperor, and he subject rode side bj side, and were soon ost to view in the eveuing mist. Suffice it to say tliat Demasis waa fully rewarded* Fublio (Congressional) Printing'. The Harpers have been thought te b? the largest publishers in tbejUnited Slate*; but, according to recent statements in Congress, Uncle Sam is by fur the largest Publisher of books, not only in the United States, but in the world.?The subject ha# been recently debated in tlio Senate, anil from that debate we lenrn that large m Unr.le Sam is as Printer, he is larger yet a* I*. ti. ? ?. -e I? uuun i^iiuier.? i ne cum 01 omaing aiono since July 185G, is six times as inucb a? lhe whole cost of the paper, printing and binding for the year 1847. Tho bill for printing ami binding for the year last past lias been over a million and n half doHnrs. The Pacific Rail Road Report (not. the Road itself) is costing a million ! Senator Cameron, alluding to lhe naturally. Jprga ?.\pectations of the people in consequanco >f these large suras expended for printing, iay? : . - -Tho other day, a good man wrote mo Lhat his son, a "smart boy," was fond of reading, and that he hoped I would wnd bim some "good story books" To-day I uo>v a icuci n win a Mi*u *ruu nnjauo (1 M horse doctor and asks mo for-; book* to Leneh biin his trade.1' (Laughter) Senator gwin says i "I do not know Iiovr it in with otbm, but really I am borne down ? with pplications for books, seeds, and thing* at lhat sort, nnd if I do not send them toercry ano who npplics to mo, it is decra?d"*' C?us? :>f personal offence." Senator Toombs says : ' ' ~ "During the rccess I know I had to -send :o our village Postmaster n two-horse wftgon ?11 the time to get my mail. I presuma .hat is the history of all us. A gentleman would have to enlarge his bouse almost to jiing in hi* documents. It takes almost is many rooms lor my documents fts it Joes for my small family." Woman. There is beauty in the. .helplessness of rvoman. Tho clinging trust, which searches for extraneous support is graceful and touchng. Timidity is the attribute of her hex \ Hit to herself it is not without its dangers/ la inconveriieite.es, and its sufferings. Her Irst effort at comparative freedom is bitter iiotigh ; for tho delicate mind shrinks from svery unaccustomed eontaot; and the warm tna- gusmng neari closes useir, like tbeplosiotn of the sensitive plant, at every approach. Man at once determines his posiUtSn^ and is^erts.his place; woman has hers to-0eek f nnd, ?Ihk,I fear nie that, howevorsjie.mny i ippear to turn a calm brow-and qui?t tip tor the crowd through which the makes her vtujCVthnt brow throbs, and <hat-lip^|uiver?, 10* thG Inst, until,- like a wound .d bird, #bd can once more wing her ttay to that -<tnmquil home where the drooping head will ba loudly raised, and tlio fluttering,, hefct, laid to rest I The dependence of. woman ,{p the common affaire of life fo,*nevertliale?,T?th r ; the effect of cus'tori) than nefcissit^"* \V* F>ave many"and brilliant proofs tljaV, where need is, she en n Ire sufficient to Utrtel^ and play UpT part in the drama of ?*ttt?ne#mith sredit, if not with cornforti The yefttningft af jier solitary spirit, tbe oufgustiings pf hrf shrinking sensibility,. the . crayipg* h.t^' feef rilienaled heart, ard ia'talftad-. eeijMP ti\0 Jjniet holiness of her 'soltaode; sees not, g Besses not the conflict 7 4nd-fiR lb* depths of bet own b8Wm ? jMwi^ha iJo'tct bn Jtafd - ?tM? b??Kry/bf With ? **! W&WF, tei* Of^yiy forr^ andjovitig' jwri$51? ) olred iawft-tear* lio?L: ,"1" ' -??" '*" ~??4 ' ; *