But there is,' replied Franklin; how else ate neighborhood of the establishment. He shall I account to Harry Clarke for the loss was now kept very close at work, and his of his Arabian Nights? I have been bor-brother (who never showed him any kindness rowing books ever since I was five years old, after he had him entirely in his power) geneand never before has there any thing happen-rally found something for him to do beyond ed to a single one of them in my possession.' the regular working hours: and as the days Benny,' said Mr. Bangs, there are many were short, and the weather very bad, he was just and good men who have not thought it no longer able to play on the common. He sinful to stretch a point where the end justi-passed a dreary week and to add to his fied the means. There is authority for such discomfort, he had no book to read. divergements from the straight path. You may represent that the books fell accidentally into the fire; and my name need not appear in the statement.'

'What,' exclaimed Franklin, and incur for myself the blame of the very worst sort of carelessness?'

I am not sure, after all,' pursued Bangs, that the misadventure was not purely accidental; it seems to me that the books fell by chance from my hand, and unluckily just where the flames happened to catch them.'

He was very desirous of seeing Harry Clarke, again, yet he had not the courage to knock at the door and inquire for him. But every day when he went to leave the newspaper, he lingered about for a minute or two, hoping to obtain a glimpse of him, and to have an opportunity of making an explanation. At last, in a lucky moment, after leaving the paper under the knocker, he perceived Harry at the parlor window, and his warmhearted friend immediately ran out to bring him in. Franklin, however, would proceed no farther than the entry (the place that boys generally prefer for their confabulations,) and George Ellis came down stairs at the same moment, having just been changing his dress. You are a shrewd, ingenious boy,' con- after sitting for his portrait. Mrs. Clarke tinued Bangs, laying his hand on the head of was only desirous of possessing a likeness of Franklin, who instantly drew it away in dis-her little favorite Lucy; but she had congust, and you can find no difficulty in giving cluded to have both the children painted a convenient statement of the passage that together, rather than run the risk of offending has taken place in relation to these books; their mother, who had always made a pet of and Benny hold out your hand-here are George in preference to his sister, and had half a dozen shillings for your new year's completely spoiled him. gift, if you will act in this thing according to my desire.'

They did not! they did not!' cried Frank lin I saw you put them into the fire in the very place where the blaze was fiercest. You know you done it on purpose.'

This was too much for Franklin's patience; and scattering the shillings indignantly on the floor, he darted out of the house.

Though endowed with much natural strength of mind, and possessed of intelligence far beyond his years, poor Franklin was still but a boy; and as soon as he got into the street he leaned his forehead against a post and cried as if his heart was breaking.

he reprimanded George severely for the insult
he had offered to the integrity of Franklin.
'Well,' said George, sulkily, my father,
and mother will be in town again in a few
days, and they will take me home. I am sure
I shall be glad of it, for I have no desire to
be abused any farther by Harry on account
of his ragamuffin printer-boy.'

I am no ragamuffin,' said Franklin; 'for my mother always keeps my every day clothes well mended, and I have a good suit for Sunday. I know I have a patch on each knee, but nothing like a rag.

And now, Ben,' said Harry, going close to him and speaking in a low voice, I must give you back your crown-piece.'

Franklin changed color, snatched up his bundle of newspapers, and immediately ran off, saying I have stayed too long, I must make haste with my papers.'

That evening a servant of Mr. Clarke's came to the printing office with a billet inscribed, For Benjamin Franklin.' It was from Harry, and enclosed the said crown, accompanied by the following words:

'Dear Ben,-No more heroics-they don't suit people of sense, therefore they don't suit you. Listen now to plain, sober, quiet reason. You must and shall take the crown-piece. If you return it, I'll throw it immediately into the street, and never speak to you again while I live on earth.

I've bought the great humming top, having received my week's allowance on Monday. Well, my friend Ben,' said Harry, shaking It bums so loudly that you may hear it half him heartily by the hand, I have not seen over the North End. you for a week, but I suppose you have been Yours, till death, lost in the Arabian Nights. You need not (for of course you'll keep the crown.) hurry yourself to return the books for a H. C.' month or two yet, as I shall not have a Franklin pondered a few minutes, and at moment's time to read them. The weather last wisely concluded to put up the crownhas now cleared up, my mother has consented piece with the rest of his money. And he to my getting a pair of skates, and I have a felt happy once more; for he found that he great deal before me; as much skating, and had now enough to buy the Arabian Nights. snow-balling, and sliding, as I can possibly do. The day after New Years he had priced in a Franklin, then, in much confusion, ex-book store a set similar to Harry's, (except plained the fate of the books precisely as it that the binding though equally handsome, was green instead of red,) and which they told him was the only copy in town.

But he soon rallied; and drying his tears, he made a determination to appropriate nearly all his money to buy another equally hand-happened. some sett of the Arabian Nights, to replace that of Harry Clarke.

He proceeded on his tour, and omitted not a single house in which his brother's newspaper was taken. But in those days seldom more than a few pence was given by each family to the carrier: he knew the general price of books, and he found all that he was able to collect insufficient to purchase so expensive a one after he had deducted the price of an India silk pocket handkerchief for his mother. And the only pleasant feeling he had during the remainder of the day, was when he laid this little present on the lap of his kind parent, and when she kissed him in return, and called him her good Ben, and said she had been wanting such a handkerchief for years.

Still, he determined not to allow himself to be tempted to lay out another farthing o his money; but to keep it inviolate, in the firm hope (and young people are always sanguine,) that some unforseen event would put him in possession of a sufficiency to make out the desired sum.

Loud and high was the indignation of Harry against Inflict Bangs-not exactly for burning the books, but for burning them before Franklin had read them. But George Ellis, who stood listening at the bottom of the stairs, called out, Why, Harry, can you believe this fine story? don't you see that after this chap had read your books, he went and sold them to buy others with the money? At these words Franklin instantly sprung forward and caught George by his lace collar, exclaiming, Beg my pardon this moment, and go down on your knees and own yourseli a liar, or I'll shake you till you do.'

Now Ben, go off,' said Harry; George Ellis is my property. Leave him to me, and I'll pay him for all at once. But go off, I tell you, or I can't touch him; for two to one won't do.'

'No, no,' answered Franklin, I am well able to fight my own battles. And he shook George Ellis till his cries brought Mr. Clarke out of the library; and in another minute the whole household had assembled in the hall.

The boys were inmediately parted by Mr.|| Franklin had hitherto been only on trial in Clarke, and Harry eagerly recounted the the printing office, and had continued to live whole story to his father. Mr. Clarke was at his father's; but after this day he was to much incensed at what had been said and enter into a regular apprenticeship with his done by Inflict Bangs, and declared that he brother James, and was to board with him could well believe it, as it was in conformity and his other boys at a house in the immedi- || with much that he had heard of him. And

Next morning he bought the book, and had sixpence left. I need not say with what avidity he snatched every leisure moment, and how late he sat up at night, till he had gone through the volumes so fascinating to all young people when they read them the first time. When he had finished, he tied them up in a paper cover, which he inscribed,

For Master Henry Clarke, from Benjamin Franklin;' and carrying the parcel to the house, he gave it in charge of John, and went away immediately. On the following day Mr. Clarke sent Franklin as a present a complete set of the Spectator, handsomely bound, and also a kind note offering to lend him from his library, any books that he had a desire to read, and urging him to apply for them without scruple. And Harry added a line, saying, You know you shall always be welcome to any of mine.'

Franklin was as glad as if he had met with a mine of gold. He was now in a fair way of obtaining as many as he could find time to read. Other gentlemen, took notice of him, and extended to him the same kindness. And he was occasionally enabled to buy a book which it was desirable to read more than once, or consult frequently.

The intense interest in books that was always evinced by this poor boy, and his earnest

efforts to procure them, made eventually a grievances, and political intrigues. From the thought passed through her mind, the deep impression on Harry Clarke. He began time to time there was a pause-a glance at wan smile quivered off her lip, and a slight to think that there really must be something the bed-and then they conversed again. A shudder told that she had checked the tears, delightful in reading, and he made a resolution little apart from the medical group, sat the which shed, might have broken his slumbers. to try it seriously, and to persevere in it if sick nurse, covered with lace and ribbands, Daylight faded away; the gleams of parting possible. In a short time he conquered his and drowsily examining the curiously fine sunset ceased to shed a glory through the repugnance so far as to find great pleasure in linen belonging to the dying child, whose room; the rolling of carriages became less story books and other works of imagination; wardrobe she was prepared to prove should frequent, and the lamps shone through the and after a while (we must confess it was a by right of custom be hers, as soon as the foggy close of a London autumn evening; long while) he came to take equal interest in breath had left his body. Close to the bed Lord Rothseaton approached the bed; his literature of a higher class. The improvement stood the young heir's own attendant, a harsh though handsome features were dark of his mind was of course rapid and obvious, French lady, who had been induced by with despair; he set his teeth and folded his and caused much happiness to his fond distress to accept the office of bonne to the arms as he gazed on his son's face, for death parents. Still be liked to play on the common. sickly and wayward offspring of the house of had thrown a deeper shadow there since last The death of George Ellis's injudicious Rothseaton. The quiet sorrow of many he looked on him. If you had taken more mother, and his father's subsequent marriage years of trial was written in her face. Her care of yourself, Lady Rothseaton,' murmurwith a sensible and amiable woman, wrought relations had been butchered in the streets of ed he with bitterness, before your infant was so great a change for the better in the young Paris, or murdered by the guillotine; her born, instead of romping like a child, he fopling, that in process of time he gradually two children had died of the small pox, when might not, have been dying now; it would got rid of his impertinence, his arrogance and the depth of her poverty disabled her from have been better never to have had an heir, even his vanity, and he grew up a very procuring them the commonest necessaries than to have watched this poor boy through respectable member of society. of life; her husband had perished of a broken years of ill health, and see him die at last,' heart, without being able to bid her farewell. He lifted his eyes as he spoke to the face of Sorrow has one thing in common with pros-his young wife, as if he feared the impression perity-it makes us selfish. The feelings of his own words. But she heard them not. which have been wrung intensely, remain Worn out with watching, she had yielded to numbed and incapable of deep sympathy in a torpor between sleep and faintness; her the afflictions of others. Standing as she pale cheek rested near that of her boy whom did by the death-bed of her little charge, she she still clasped to her bosom and her heavy could but grieve over him, for there are few half-closed eye still glistened with tears. hearts in which a child's faults will inspire Emily,' said Lord Rothseaton, in an dislike. She could not but remember the altered tone, this has been too much for death-bed of her own little ones; and the you-come away love, and rest,' She started tears stole down her wasted cheek as she wildly, and exclaimed, Is he dead? is he watched; but the predominant feelings of her dead?" and then flinging herself into his mind was a dread of the approaching deso-arms, she wept long and bitterly. A low lateness of her situation; a few hours more, moan of suffering recalled her to herself. In and she would again be thrown upon the vain the physicians advised, in vain her world, without a home-without friends; a husband entreated. No,' said she, it will lonely being, to struggle for her livelihood-soon be over, and then-then indeed I may to endure the taunts of some and the insulting compassion of others—and this thought was the bitterest in her heart.

The leading events in the life of Dr. Franklin are, or ought to be, known to most of our young readers. To those who are yet unacquainted with the history of that truly great man, I earnestly recommend a little book (first published in Boston, in 1825) containing his life, as written by himself up to the period of his marriage, and afterwards continued by one of his intimate friends; and comprising also an entertaining and instructive selection of his miscellaneous essays.

To return to our story: After Franklin had left Boston at the age of sixteen to seek his fortune in another city, the Clarke family lost sight of him for many years. But he went on and prospered; and they derived much satisfaction from the evidence of his celebrity that gradually extended over every part of America. In after life, Harry Clarke visited Europe; and was at Versailles when his old friend Benjamin Franklin (once the poor printer, now the distinguished philosopher, and highly trusted diplomatist) was presented to the king and queen of France, honored by the wisest and courted by the noblest of the land.

Was there, then, no one amid the gilded pomps and crowded luxuries of this chamber of death, who cared for the individual being of the beautiful boy, whose numbered breathings still came shorter and shorter? Was the ambition of his father-the interest of the physicians the mercenary calculation of the hired-watcher of his feverish nights-the half selfish regret of the widowed French woman was this all that stood between his soul and heaven-all that rose from mortal hearts to implore God to spare the frail life that he had so lately given? Was there no wild prayer like that which David breathed in the agony of his soul, when the child of his sin was taken from him? Was there no mother in whose gentle heart all was nothing in comparison of his existence? There was.

.

rest.' The day had faded; the night crept on, Lady Rothscaton rose and looked from the window on the dim trees in the square, and the lines of lamps which lit the silent city. The confused murmur of night fell upon her ear, and involuntarily she reflected how often in the heated assembly, in the crowded ball, she had sought a moment's coolness on the balcony, and never as now felt how many sighs of pain, how many drunken shouts, how many sounds of revelry, joy, sorrow, anguish and fear, had mingled in the confused murmur which is termed the silence of night. Awful silence! in which every human passion mingled without power to convey itself to the listening ear.

Suddenly the sound of music, distinctly audible, smote on her heart; they were giving a ball within three doors of Rothseaton's house! Alas! my dying boy! said the mother, as she crept back to his bedside. The music continued, but it was faintly heard within the room; it would not disturb him— that was comfort. Through the long and weary watches of the night the well known airs haunted her; music and dancing within three doors of her, and she sat waiting for the last gasp of that failing breath.

The Young Heir's Death Bed. THERE was a heavy silence in the magnificent apartment, for the young heir of the house of Rothseaton lay panting with fever, and almost unconscious of the presence of those around him. The fatal decision had been pronounced; the inheritor of an earldom, of wealth, titles, and distinction; the beautiful and spoilt child of prosperity, was to be snatched from his parents, and hid in the cold earth. Lord Rothseaton walked impatiently up and down the room; from the large Pale and exhausted-her dark and eager windows with their heavy crimson curtains, eyes clouded with watching-sat that young which threw a mock glow on the cheek of his mother by the bed of her dying child. child, to the oak door, with its ivory handles Grandeur, and power, and wealth; the inheriand curious carving. He paused, and gazed tance of titles-the possessor of riches; what into the faces of the three physicians, whom were they then to her to him; life life was a vain care had assembled round that bed-all she desired his life, which gold could and a cold thrill passed through his heart. not buy-which pride could not command- The night passed away-the long, long He thought of the joy and bell-ringing at the his life, and bread to give him, and her soul endless night; day dawn came bright and birth of his beautiful and sickly boy-of his would be satisfied! She held his hand in blue through the window; the last carriage ambitious hopes of his hatred for his cousin, her's, afraid to move-afraid to breathe; his rolled from the door of the lighted house; who was the next heir-and he flung himself languid head rested heavily upon her bosom; the last guest departed. Lady Rothseaton into a seat with sullen despondency. The and cramped, chilled, and aching as she felt, still sat by that sick bed, listless and weary; physicians continued to converse on different she yet smiled bitterly when the sick nurse she turned her eyes to the dawning light; it topics in an under tone; and while apparently offered to relieve her of her burden. Relieve seemed to her then as if one day more were consulting on the state of their patient, her! it might be the last time his head should a boon-as if to watch another sunrisecommunicated to each other the news of the ever rest on her breast-the last time his another sunset-in an uncertainty which adday; births, marriages, and deaths, family "breath might be warm on her check; and as "mitted of wild and unreasonable hope, were

something to be thankful for; she knelt and prayed he might not die that day.

The young heir awoke; he called feebly and mournfully for water; the cup of embossed gold was lifted to his parched lips, but in vain; the lips parted, and a wild and beautiful smile lit his brow; evidently there was a sudden cessation from pain. Mother, mother,' he whispered, I am well now.'Lady Rothseaton bent over him, as he sank back, one shriek told that hope and fear were over!-Who cared-who knew when the young heir died? The evening of that dawning day, a large party were assembled at another house in the same square. The Rothseatons have lost their child,' said the lady of the house. Was he an only son?' said the guest. 'Yes.'-' Indeed!-pray who does the property go to ?'

COMMUNICATIONS.

most incoherent fictions. In Spain, this their drama was studied with enthusiasm, now was carried to perfection; all put implicit it is passed by in silence. And that nation confidence in whatever was written. And which in former ages shone forth as the sun, thus it was why the Spanish poets had such is not now even discerned by its twinkling. an extensive influence. So attached were Or if seen, it is only for a moment, and then they to poetry, that while engaged in the most to sink into greater abscurity. But for all bloody wars, they pursued it to considerable this the Spaniards have no one to blame but extent. The heights of Parnassus was their themselves. Having arisen, as they supposed home, and there they loved to dwell. to the very pinnacle of literary glory and Although many writers had appeared in renown-they made no more exertions; and the first ages of Spain, it did not possess an the consequence was, that after remaining established literature until the age of Charles stationary for a while, they commenced V. At this time, it underwent an entire a retrograde march, and soon sunk and change, a change so great that it caused the dwindled into comparative insignificance. other nations of Europe to pause and wonder. They cherished the idea that rapidity was the Her literature was now beginning to shine glory of composition-maintaining this idea forth in all its lustre. It had long enough they continued to decline, until they arrived to been groping in darkness, and suffering under that state, where it was impossible to sink lower. For the Rural Repository. imbecile weakness. It was now high time During the last part of the eighteenth Spanish Literature. that she should take that stand which she century, a love of national literature began to PERHAPS there is no nation around which could so deservedly hold. And for a be revived, a few daring spirits now arose, is clustered more of interest and delight than long period she maintained the first rank who undertook to breathe the spirit of their Spain. The very fact that mystery is thrown among her rivals. During the reign of fathers unto their countrymen. But it was around it, that darkness in some measure Charles, the inquisition, that infernal system, like breathing upon the bones of the dead. envelopes it, only adds new and increasing was established; and although it was sur- The hand of the oppressor had so long bound interest. This brave and chivalrous people, rounded with a blaze of glory, it was attended them in the chains of superstitious ignorance whose pride and dignity have passed into a with the most destructive consequences to and servile bondage, that it required a voice proverb, is reflected in its literature, in which his own province. But while engaged in louder than seven thunders to arouse them, we may delight to find all the distinctive wars and political feuds, the progress of and persuade them like men, to rise and traits which characterise the part the Span-learning was by no means stayed. It requires break their galling fetters. That old heroic iards have acted in Europe. Says a writer- the lapse of a long series of years, before the spirit which their fathers had, found not an The same nation which opposed so strong a spirit of literature declines or becomes asylum in their bosoms. Without any feelbarrier to the Saracen invaders, which main-entirely extinct. When an impulse is once ings of regret they bid adieu to their ancient tained for five centuries, its civil and religious honor and splendor, and were content to liberties, and which after it had lost the one have it said that they merely had an existence. and the other, under Charles V. and his I close with the words of another-As successors, seemed desirous of burying both for literature now in Spain it may not only be Europe and the new World under the ruins said to be dying, but actually dead. The illusof its own constitution, has also displayed in trious writers in romance and in the drama, its literature, the loftiness and grandeur of its which arose there before freedom of thoughtcharacter, and the power and richness of its and speech and publicity were lost with her imagination. other liberties, and ere the decline of industry and wealth had produced universal stagnation, are now extinct.'

Poetry has ever been the favorite study of the Spanish nation, and the poetic fire in their bosoms burned bright and blazed high. The subjects which came under their notice were such, that they could not but fill the soul with the fire of song. Their own glorious achievements, the deeds of their Abderahmans and Almanzors, the gallant feats of their self devoting chivalry, which had sprung up among them, could only be transmitted to us in the exaltation of song. Poetry was no rare accomplishment; even princes and ministers learned to touch the sacred Lyre-and thus we are told, many of those strains which were first sung upon the banks of the Garil

given to the mind, such is its constitution,
that it requires a force almost super-human
to check it. Such was the case in Spain. In
the midst of the greatest trials and perse-
cutions, we see that the intellect instead of
retrograding, for a while, at least, advanced.
No nation in Europe has been so richly
endowed as the Spanish-genius, imagination,
depth of thought, and indeed every thing
connected with intellect, have been lavished
upon her. In this she surpassed all other
nations of the East. But her religion has at
almost all times been a serious check upon
her brilliant qualities. This has bound her
down, and rendered her far less powerful
than she would otherwise have become.
When she would come forth in all her
glory and strength, the infernal inquisition
would at once press her down; and thus has
she been striving and groaning, until weary
and disheartened she has given up the contest,
and now contents herself to remain in sloth
and inactivity.

Europe has now entirely forgotton the and the Gaudilquiver, were repeated with ad- admiration with which she once regarded miration in the harems of Persia and Arabia. Spain. In the seventeenth century, the Faith, may be said, to have the highest Spanish were regarded as the sole directors importance in poetry as well as religion. of the drama. They were regarded as a To feel deeply we must believe without model of perfection. Now how changed the examining. The most poetic ages are those scene! nothing is said regarding Spain, only in which is given the greatest credit to the in terms of ridicule and reproach.

Once

U. D. V.

MISCELLANY. Generosity of a Robber. AFTER the defeat at Hedgley Moor, the Lancastrians concentrated their forces on

the plain of Hexham Levels, and there waited the advance of the Yorkists, resolving to place on the issue of the expected contest of this battle is well known: the army of their final overthrow or triumph. The result Henry was completely routed, and even the high cap of state, with its two rich crowns, fell into the hands of the Duke of York, who shortly after ascended the throne of England fled from the field; and Margaret, his queen, by the title of Edward the Fourth. Henry with the young prince Edward, escaped into an adjoining forest. They had scarcely. entered within its intricacies, when they were seized by a band of ruffians who had there located themselves. Regardless of her rank, sex, or situation, they stripped the queen of her jewels, and were proceeding to greater

indignities, when a quarrel arose between them as to the distribution of the spoil. Seizing this favorable opportunity for escape, the prince and his mother fled into the interior recesses of the forest. As the royal fugitives were pursuing their toilsome journey through the wilderness, a rustling of the trees forewarned them of approaching danger;|| but before they could reach concealment, a robber confronted them in their path.

Ruffian,' exclaimed the queen, assuming the dignity and haughtiness of carriage familiar to her, thou hast tarried over long; thy comrades have been before thee, and despoiled

us of our treasures.'

Truly,' answered the robber, their chief will find but worthless prey in what they left you. You may pass; 'twere better that you take the right hand path, its windings lead to an opening of the forest.'

Stay, man,' said Margaret, though a desperate outlaw, there yet may be some spark of pity in thee, some reverence for a kingly name.'

nine.-Lord Mansfield was very vexed, Do
you know what hour it is, Mr. Dunning?'
Mr. D. pulling out his watch, Half-past nine,
my lord.' I have been here an hour, Mr.
Dunning.' Then, my lord, we have been
equally irregular, you half an hour too soon,
and I half an hour too late.' On another
occasion Dunning had been strongly con-
testing a point of law, and urging Lord
Mansfield to revise his opinion. Mr.
Dunning, I apprehend I sit here by his
Majesty's gracious permission, to decide
what is the law; at this rate I had better go
home and burn my books. You had better
go home and read them,' said Dunning, aside,
and pretty loud.

A FALSE ALARM.-In a certain town lived a man somewhat intemperate, and a wag withall, known by the appellation of Old Sock.' Engaged one day in shingling the roof of a barn, which belonged to the parson of the parish, he accidentally slipped and fell to the earth, but received little or no injury from the fall. Next day the parson took occasion to lecture him; he spoke of his dissolute course of life, of his unfitness to die, and his narrow escape on the preceding 'Yet will I trust thee,' answered the queen, day, and closed by saying, What did you 'for fortune leaves us little choice of friends. think when you were falling?' Old Sock heard Behold this boy-the son of Henry of Lan-his ghostly lecture through, with all becoming caster, your king.'

Pity and reverence are terms alike unknown to me,' replied the man; and kingly power is but an idle sound to him who knows no sway-respects no laws.'

Whether surprise overpowered, or a latent nobleness of mind forbade him to insult fallen majesty, the robber chief uncovered his head, and proffered his assistance to the wanderers. 'What service,' said he, ' can I render to you and the prince your son?'

6

Provide us a place of concealment,' eagerly rejoined the queen, and effect our escape beyond the reach of York,'

Concealment,' said the robber, is not difficult; and what more I can do I will do; for the present, follow me to a cave hard by, where you may repose in safety, and wait a favorable opportunity of rejoining your friends.'

gravity and attention, and then replied:
Why, as to that, Parson P--, I can't say;
for I hadn't much time to think at all. But I
heard the old devil say to the young ones.
Take care of yourselves there, for Old
Sock's coming."-N. E. Family Visiter.

THE following specimen of eloquence was delivered by an Indian woman over the contigious graves of her husband and infant:

The Father of Life and Light has taken from me the apple of my eye, and the core of my heart, and hid them in these two graves. I will moisten the one with my tears, and the other with the milk of my breast, till I meet them again in that country where the sun never sets.'

We do not thank the clouds for rain. Teach
him to look higher, and thank Him who giveth
both the clouds and the rain.'-Gambier Obs.

The Rural Repository.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 16, 1834.

HARVEST.-In the Spring of the present year, owing to the coldness of the weather, and the blighting frosts, it

was generally supposed that our crops and fruit would be extremely light. So much so was this the case, that a considerable alarm was manifested by our yeomanry, and fears were entertained, that a general scarcity of the necessities of life would be felt. But let any one at the present time go forth into the country, and plenty and probably truly, that the harvest is more heavy than has abundance greet him on either hand. It is said, and been known for many years. Grass has also been uncommonly luxuriant, and between them both, the

husbandman's barn will be overflowing with the rich bounties of Him, who is Lord of the seasons. Fruit, of all qualities, is unusually scarce-but what avails this, when the necessities of life are heaped in profusion upon us. Then let the sun burnt reaper, as his golden crop falls in ripened beauty before him, raise his joyful anthem to him, who lives afar in the heavens, and from his throne of light sends down the cooling showers to refresh the earth, or bland sunshine, which gradually brings her green fields

to maturity.

CHOLERA.-There have been numerous reports of this epidemic being in New-York and other adjacent places, but when they were well sifted down, it was discovered they were without the least foundation. It is from fear, undoubtedly, that those false alarms arise-every sudden death is construed into cholera, when, in fact, there is not a single symptom of the disease. There is, also, a certain class of people who are very fond of the marvellous-who can only live in times of general excitement-and love to create a panic to gratify their own eccentric notions. It

is by no means impossible that the cholera may again visit

our vicinity this season, yet, at the same time, it is not very probable.

Since the above was in type, it is necessary to state that the real cholera has appeared in New-York, Albany,

and probably in some of the intermediate towns along the river. By the New York Board of Health (which has been formed more to prevent exaggerated rumors, than as necessary to the safety of the city) the disease is not considered epidemic. What cases have appeared have been very scattering.

Letters Containing Remittances, Received at this Office, ending Wednesday last, deducting the amount of Postage paid.

SUMMARY.

Mr. Forrest, it is said, intends having a handsome

He led the way through an unfrequented path, and brought them to a wretched but A LADY applied to the late philanthropist H. A. F. Saratoga Springs, N. Y. $1,00; J. B. Marlsecure asylum in the forest, which, in mem-of Bristol, Richard Reynolds, on behalf of a borough, Ms. $0,814; N. N. West Winfield, N. Y. $1,00; ory of the unfortunate queen, still retains the little orphan boy. After he had given liber-la. 80,874; A. F. B. Trenton, N. Y. 80,871: P. M. Bolton, H. H. Keeseville, N. Y. $0,814; G. W. J. Williamsport, name of the Queen's Cave.' ally, she said, 'When he is old enough I will Vt. $1,00; C. P. Livingston, N. Y. $1,00; B. B. Perry, N. teach him to name and thank his benefactor.' Y: $1,00; P. M. Tonawanta, N. Y. $1,00; F. W. W. Waterford, N. Y. $2,00; A. W. Chatham 4 Corners, N. THE EFFECTS OF WOMAN'S EYE UPON ANStop,' said the good man, thou art mistaken. Y. 8$1,00; E. E. Redhook, N. Y. $1,00; H. A. Waterford, EXECUTIONER.-Anne Boleyn, being on the N. Y. $1,00; R. K. S. Aurora, N. Y. $1,00; J. W. West scaffold, would not consent to have her eyes Nantucket, Ms. $1,00; S. L. S. Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Rush, N. Y. $1,624; L. P. Chatham, N. Y. $1,00; H. G. covered with a bandage, saying she had no $0,50; P. V. D. Livingston, N. Y. $1,00; G. Y. West fear of death. All that the divine who assisted Dresden, N. Y. $5,00. at the execution could obtain from her was, EXCELLENT CALCULATION.-A certain Bishthat she would shut her eyes; but as she was op, who had ordered that no ecclesiastic in opening them at every moment, the execu- his diocese should hire a maid-servant under tioner could not bear their mild and tender fifty years of age, was very indignant to find glances, and fearful of missing his aim, he in the house of one of the reverend gentle-state, has been sentenced to three months imprisonment was obliged to invent an expedient to behead man three very pretty young servant girls in the common jail. The Mayor has signified his intention the Queen. He drew off his shoes and How is this, Sir?' exclaimed the Prelate, same class.--Ece. Star. approached her silently while he was at her did I not expressly forbid-? Yes, my left hand, another person advanced at her Lord,' replied the delinquent, I was perfectright, who made a great noise in walking, so ly aware of your Lordship's commands, but that this circumstance drawing the attention as I did not find one single servant of fifty of Anne, she turned her face from the exe- who at all suited, I thought, that the hiring cutioner, who was enabled to strike the fatal those three young women, whose united age blow without being disarmed by that spirit of|| is precisely fifty, would do as well.' affecting resignation which shone in the eyes of Anne Boleyn.-D' Israell.

A BULL.-An Irishman, who was brought up to the police the other day, on a charge of DUNNING AND LORD MANSFIELD.--Dunning, vagrancy, on being asked if he had eaten any whose debauched habits often made him late thing during the week, replied, that he hadn't at court of a morning, on one occasion came tasted a bit of any thing for three days, barring shuffling into the King's Bench at half-pasta little oyster soup made of clams,'

monument erected over the tomb of the late Mr. Stone, author of Metamora, &c.

A vender of lottery tickets against the statutes of the

of rigorously enforcing the law against all offenders of the

A subscription of one dollar each person is recommended in Boston for a monument to Lafayette, to be placed in

the Mount Auburn cemetry-the cost to be $2,400.

An Austrian sloop of war, with Polish passengers, sailed

from Gibralter on the 4th of June for New-York.

DIED,

In this city, on the 3d inst. Mrs. Elizabeth Clark, aged 48 years.

In this city, on Sunday the 10th inst. Dr. John Talman, in the 73d year of his age.

At Coxsackie, on Tuesday evening, the 5th inst. Mr.
David French, aged 54 years.

of Nathaniel Rodman, aged 1 year
At Hillsdale, on the 19th ult., Sarah, youngest daughter

On the 31st ult., Mary Truesdell, aged 48 years.

wife of Elisha Gilbert, Esq. of a cancerous affection, aged

In New Lebanon, on the 26th ult. Mrs. Ellen Gilbert,

65 years,