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v q w w e r. D U N D E E , T TO:BE ll lO, 184-1- \A U M J i f i R 3 7 . W ill be published every Thursday at Dundee, Yates Co , New Voik, by BOOTH St, BUTM AN, PROPRIETORS AND PUBLISHERS. T k r m s — #1 SOcash In ndvonen, 01 75 at the end o f three months s or B'i if paid within the year al discount madn to those who advertise by the year. From the Rural Repos'tory. THE WRECK. BY C. F. COT. Calmly upon the ocean's breast, A gallant bark did lay, Act lovely as a swan at rest, Upon a moonlit toy; And a starry flag was trailing Gracefully from her peak And the evening breeze then failing, Scarce rocked the briny deep. The moon had rose, and threw a veil, A sitv’ry veil of light Upon the vessel’s snow white sail; Bui through the lonely night No sound around that bark was heard, Except the sent’nel’s tread, Or now and then a wild sea-bird Flapping her wings o’er head. But when the morning sun arose, From on his ocean bed, The breeze that sought a night’s repose, Then, o’er the waters sped. Soon heaved the vessel’s snowy shroud, And dnphed the briny spray, As through the surges sighing loud, The vessel bore away. And proudly on her course she stood, Through that long summer's day, The wind still sweeping o'er the flood, While no cloud veiled the sky ; And fur astern ere day was gone, She left that lovely bay, Where through the night alketill and lone, So gracefully she lay, At twilight’s hour the sky grew black, No moon gave forth her light; The vessel on her foaming track— And gloomy grew the night! DarJc sable clouds o’erspread the sky, The wind shook every sail, And fearfully the storm-bird’s cry Came mingled with the gale! Bright flashed the lightning o’er the sea, The thunder shook the air; While madly through the blinding spray, That gallant bark did bear— Like a war horse unchecked by rein, Or falcon through the air, While o'er her deck the angry brine Was wildly leaping there. But hark! a sound broke on the ear, And mingled with the gale; That palled the stoutest heart with fear, While every cheek turned pale! And louder still that fearful sound Arose above the blast, While still the tempest raged around, As on the vessel dashed. Lo! by the lightning’s vivid flash, Behold a rock bound shore, 'Gainst which the billows fiercely dash, With loud and sullen roar, Swift as a dolphin cleaves the deep— The bark swept toward the rock— Then rose a crash! a phrenzied shriek, Loud o’er the billows shock. Ah! then no mortal arrn could guide Or aid that gallant band, They sa.nk beneath the rolling tide Upon that rock-bound strand; While sung the wind and wild sea moan The death-dirge of the brave, Who found bslow the billows’ foam, Their cold and lonely grave. Pittsfield , Mass. 1844. From the l.ndy’8 Book. B A R T O N 'S E X P E D I T I O N ; OR, THE STORY OF SYBIL PRIOR. A t a * e of t h e r e v o l u t io n . [ Concluded .] * Of that hereafter, sir—but unless you would give my fellows the trouble of lifting you from bed, rise, immediately,’ replied his youthful captor, ‘you may chance to find my men but rough valets, sir.’ The English officer, however, still dallied, in expectation of (he arrival of some re cue. ‘Take up his clothes men!’ commanded Co lonel Barton, loosing patience at last; ‘ Take up his clothes, men! and bring out the prisoner by force.' * Forbear, you rascals!’ growled the Eng lishman; ‘ T will save you the trouble—but surely sir. you xoill allow me lo put on my clothes !' ‘ Very fnv and very quick , sir,’ replied the gallant Barton The prisoner, availing himself of this prelext, prolonged his delay by every possible method he could devise. ‘Your object, General Prescott, is to gain time, and I do not blame you,’ observed Colonel Barton—‘but /, sir, have none to lose! You must attend me as you are ; I will be detained no longer. Take up his clothes, Prince,’ he added, sternly; ‘ men! bring off the prisoner, without an instant’s delay. I am sorry to have recourse to harsh measures, General Pres cott, but. our situation is too critical, to admit of ceremony. On! men! move on with the prisoner,’ he added, with that stern brevity which enforces instant obedience. * And do you suppose, young gentleman, that I you con venture into the heart, of a British gar -1 ‘But I do care for the handkerchief,’ cried 1 rison, and carry off its commander unmolested?’ j Halsey,‘for its the one that Sybil Prior hem- demanded the prisoner, when he found himself; med—the only thing she ever did for me—and by George! I’d sooner give him the heart out of my bosom!—ah, you needn’t flinch, you young thief! you needn’t struggle, 1 11 have it,’ and with a shake, still more emphatic than the cor poral’s had been, he endeavored to tear the high ly valued handkerchief from the throat of the etripling, whom his violence had nearly deprived of life. The cap of the prisoner fell io the ground in the scuffle, when a mass of luxuriant dark ringlets, which had been tucked up beneath it, streamed abroad in rich profusion over the shoulders of tbeir owner, who, clinging with both hands to ‘he disputed neckcloth, sunk to the ground, exclaiming, ‘Spare me for mercy’s sake ! Have pity on me Matthew Ilalsey—and mur ler not a helpless woman!’ Halsey started and staggered backward some paces, as if he had received a blow—for it was raised, with more haste than tenderness, in the stalwart arms of a dozeu men, from whose very touch he shrunk with as much abhorrence as if their rebellion had been, contagious—‘take Viiiagn .Vl.t those snppiieJ by enrriers, will care w|)Bt vou (j0 young. man!—One word from be charged 2a. or $2 in mlvanoe. , J . 6 , , , , . , No paper -iisc-.’iti *i >ie.I until all arrearages are paid, unless! ine, and you will find yourselves hedged in by an at the option ofthe publ isher. armv!—I need to niter but a syllable, rascals! Advertisements, ofi) sqimreorunder/insertedthreeweeks ^ ■ #t; nod 25 cen‘s for each subsequent insertion, a libe- and your carcasses will be tossed on the points of a thousand bayonets!’ ‘He tells you but the truth; ’tis a desperate venture, my lads,’ said the dauntless Barton; ‘Fire not a 6hot, my brnve fellows, but close round him with fixed bayonets, and if he breathes a word above his breath silence him’—and drawing his sword—‘ Close up, my lade, and move on!’ he said, advancing in front and lead ing the way, a3 his little band, with their pris oner, in profound silence, emerged into the open air. With a feeling of despair, 1 he English general now perceived his aid-de camp, (who had leaped undressed from a window, on the first alarm, with the hope of effecting his escape,) to gether with his sentinels, in the custody of the Americans, and each, like himself, with naked swords and bayonets presented at his bosom, in order to secure his silence. But, notwith standing he had been thus unceremoniously transferred from his downy and damask covered couch to the open fields, which, barefooted as he was, he was compelled to traverse with a rapid ity that mocked pursuit, he still continued fond ly to hope for succor and deliverance. Should they pass the chain of sentinels without obser vation or alarm, which he could not but believe to be impossible, ho still relied implicitly on the vigilance ofthe water-guards: for, from the di rection of their route, he perceived that his cap tors were conducting him to the western shore How great then was his chagrin, when as he was hurried swiftly along, he distinctly heard his sentinels sending their‘ all’s well’ from post to post! He was tempted at the moment io avenge himself on his cap'.ors, even at the price of life, by alarming the guard; but the proba bility of his enemies escaping with impunity in the confusion, and the absolute certainty that himself must -His quietus make With bare bodkin,’ a dozen of which were pointed at his half-naked and defenceless bosom, checked the impulse, and he remained passive. Consigning him to the custody of our intrepid countrymen, we will now return to Mr. Mat thew Halsey, whom we left m the gloom of the evening, bemoaning the cruelty ofhis mistress. Having vented his rage in some half dozen pithy and elegant imprecations, not on the beautiful Sybil, to whom he was sincerely attached, but on the head of his more favored rival, Martin Gray’, he repaired to a room appropriated to the accommodation of such of the general’s retinue as were offduty, where he soon forgot his vex ation so far as to listen with some degree of amusement to the jests of corporal Simpkins and sergeant Alknis. In the midst of their mirth however, they were interrupted, and called on by a centinel to take into custody a country lad, who had been detected by him in attempting to make his way into the house, through a buttery window, as was supposed, the window being found open and the strippling on it. As they dragged him forward, the lad made several frantic efforts to extricate himself, but as his person was extremely slight, the soldiers found ro difficulty in securing him. ‘ It’s a pity you ha’nt as much strength as spirit, my man,’ cried Simpkins, laughing; ‘you’d make a good soldier when you get a beard on your chin. Faith, Atkins, the boy has mettle in him for so young a slip.’ ‘It ’ll bo a good while, I reckon, before it does any body much harm,’ said the sergeant; ‘ what the d—1 Drill took the trouble to pick him up for is a riddle to me.’ ‘And/think if the rebels could make any thing of such a lilly-livered boy as that, it’s a pity they hav’nt got him, that’s all,’ said Hal sey—‘I supose he was for stealing a comfit, or a jelly—or come such mighty matter.’ ‘ Hark’yc younker, what errand did ye come on!’ demanded Simpkins. ‘What!—is that your breeding Mr. Ribil ?—does’nt Mister Washington learn his men to make their man ners to an officer ?’ The boy answered only by pulling his hat still farther over his brow. ‘ Cap in.hand, youngster, when a corporal speaks to you,’ cried Halsey, extending his hand to remove it as he spoke. ‘ Let the child alone, men, can’t ye!’ cried thesergennf. ‘Let the brat alone, Isay;—I suppose it’s the beggar you told us of, come to get. the medicine stuff of your pretty sweet- heart. Halsey.’ 'Him!’ exclaimed Ilalsey, ‘vou might as well tell me it’s Washington himself!—Look at that band,’ he added; ‘whv Kell Millar’s a ragged. filthy, sallow-fared brat;—and his hair’s red as a carrot—and look here—here is skin as white’—— ‘Nay, his face is red enough now!’ said Simp kins. ‘The poor bov is scared out of his wits,’ said Ilalsey: ‘but come, cheer up, my l\d be add ed,‘we don’t eat rebels, we only kill them.— Fore George! he trembles like a militia man at his first snnft of gunpowder.’ What’s to he done wilh him, sargeant ?’ vociferously assure us,’ answered the gallant Barton. ‘On men! push on;’ he added, ‘look well to the prisoners, and push on, my lads!’ In a few minutes the whole parly stood to gether on i he shore, where two boats, with muf fled oars, lay ready to receive them. ‘Bring that trembling dove of thine into this boat, Gray,’ commanded the Colonel; ‘and remember my lads, that every thing n o w d e p e n d s on si lence and despatch—half our laurels would be clipped,' he added,‘should harm befall our pris oner. If discovered, the other boat must en deavor to engross the attention and love tokens ofthe enemy. Come! stir, men ! push off—and be afive !’ ' The young commander seated himself as he spoke. The men stooped to their oars, and the barge darted from the shore with the ve lo c i t y of an arrow. Not a word was uttered, and every breath'was suspended with the m- lenseness of anxiety—the soft ripple of the waves alone was heard, as they curled around the muffled oars and kissed, as if in gratulation, the bows of the litlle bark, while she danced over the tranquil waters, on which the stars |m ' ed dimly down through a soft mist that came stealing in from the ocean. As they neared the ships, the prisoner raised himself from his melancholy attitude, and sat erect, gazing eagerly towards them, while his heart throbbed high with hope and full expecta tion of rescue. Observing the action, the Ame rican Colonel presented his pistol al his head, in addition to the weapons already pointed at his heart by a soldier on either side, thus en forcing profound silence. It was a fearful pause as the litlle vessel cut her rapid way through the hostile fleet—and Sybil, as she clung to the supporting arm of Martin Gray, wrung in an agony of apprehension the hand which clasped her own. The prisoner w is powerfully agita ted as he saw himself borne along within call and beneath the very guns of the British ships. His hopes became less sanguine at each suc cessive splash of the oars, but they were not armed men rushed in at each, one party being | utterly extinguished until, as they cleared the followed by our acquaintance, Caleb Millar, who ! ships- and emerged into the open bay, lie heard danced in behind them, shaking all his rags in j the water guards, on whom he had firmly exultation, accompanied by Sybil’s spaniel, who ! placed his expectations of ultimate deliverance, capered at his heels, barking and yelping, and loully proclaiming to the fleet, that ‘all was making ‘confusion worse confounded.’ well,’ at the very instant th-?ir general was The sergeant instinctively grappled his mus- passing a captive under the bows of his own ket, and promptly prepared to defend himself— ships ! The cry swelled over the water, and but Halsey and Simpkins having parted with \ echoed along the shore, ringing the knell to all theirs, which- were. 7lag at-thc oilier side ; his hope3 of rescue. A sound of suppressed indeed the lovely form of Sybil Prior that knelt in disguise at his fee;—*•»- was her own beauti ful blue eye that was fix^d in tearful supplica tion on his facp, and ho gazed on her for some minutes in unspeakable surprise and consterna tion. ‘Well done, Mistress Sybil!’ cried Simpkins tauntingly; ‘a pretty figure you cui, to be sure! So it was you, mem, that took the trouble of my cloak off my hands—I’m quite obleegcd to ye, ’pon honor, mem!’ ‘ 'Fore George, lass, I’m sorry for you !’ said the rough but kind-hearted At ins, as, overpow ered with disappointment and confusion, Svbil endeavored to hide the lovely face, over which crowded a, thousand burning blushes, in the lit tle white hands which ever and anon she wrung in an agony of grief and shame. ‘Poor lass, I’m sorry for you,’ repeated honest Atkins; ‘but what in the name of wonder in spired you to rig yourself out after such a fashion?’ ‘She meant to gooff to the rebels!—she meant to give ns all the small pox!—and she didn't care a groat how soon thn grave covered poor Matt. Halsey!’ exclaimed the mortified and angry Matthew, pacing the floor in a very lover like frenzy. ‘A pretty figure you cut mem,’ repeated the corporal, sneeringly. ‘Let the poor lass alone,’ inteiposed the ser geant, pitying her distress: 'poor thing, I don’t wonder you cry—1 don’t wonder you hide your face—its a foolish business—but they shan’t plague ye—1 The worthy sergeant was here interrupted in a most unexpected manner; for both doors of the apartment opening simultaneously, several the door, and bounded noiseless as a spectre against the attempt. Wilh increased car.,;-. across the lawn, followed by the manly figure ness, however, the anxious lover continued to of Martin Gray, lifting rather than leading the urge his suit enumerating ti e various facilities trembling form of his agitated bride with him he possessed, from his own local knowledge, in his rapid walk across the fields. At a few and the assistance he should receive from so rods distance from the shore he was overtaken able an auxiliary os Caleb Millar, who was per- by his commander, with the whole party and the ; fectly acquainted with the post of every guard prisoners. [ and centinel of the garrison. While likening ‘How now, Gray?—what success? demanded to the details of Martin Gray, the Colonel learn- the Colonel, in a suppressed tone—‘is the pretty ed more accurately than he knew before, the bird caught at last?’ ‘Safely, your honor! my success has equal to jour own,’ replied his subaltern been situation of General Prescott, who was living in all the negligence of imaginary security at Ov6ring house. The dauntlessspirit of Barton ‘All is well, then, as those fellows yonder so instantly conceived the adventurous plan of cripd Fimpkins, ‘we don’t want him here— him to the General at hadn’t I better show once?’—. ‘Ave—if vou’ve an appetite for a hearty cud gelling.’ gain Atkins. *Od Zooks!’ exclaimed Halsey, ‘there’s been ?uch n dead calm up there since sunset, I shouldn’t care to he in the wav at the next shift of wind; ’twill blow a hurricane!’ ‘Then we must. let. him stav, T suppose,’ said Simpkins. ‘Here, lad.’ he added, eompnssion- atelv, ‘here's a cun o' home-brewed for ve;— Toss it cuff! bov, just to keep soul and bodv ogetber—for it’s my opinion you’ll shake all to pieces.’ ‘Hei>h!—Eh!—Gemimi! If T’m anv thing of a conjurer, corpora’,’ cried Halsev, surveying the prisoner, ‘here’s the old cloak you lost, come back to us a^ain!’ •Hnh, by George! and 60 it has,’ answered Simokins. ‘And T must claim acquaintance with that blup handkerchief, T believe,’ said Halsey. ‘For mprev’s sake! for the love of Heaven!’ exclaimed the trembling prisoner, as each laid a hand on hi« respective property. ‘The cloak’s good for nothing, and T don’t care a stiver for it.’ said Simpkins; ‘but I do so hate a thief!’ he added, bestowing on the culprit a shake that nearly dislocated every limb. ofthe room, his resistance was unavailing. ‘You are our prisoners,’ said a young Ame rican subaltern, in whom Halsey instantly re cognised his hated rival. ‘Who says eo, beside yourself, Mr. Ribil?’ cried Simpkins. ‘You are our prisoners,’ repeated the Ameri cans, as they rushed upon and overpowered them. ‘We’ll see to that—we’ll have one game at fisty cuffs, Mr. Ribil,’ cried Simpkins, vaunt- ingly, ‘before we’ll give up to a few ribil raga muffins, sich as we see here.’ The Americans only laughed at hia biavado, while the young subaltern, leaving them to secure the prisoners, directed his entire atten tion to the recumbent figure of our heroine, who. too much absorbed by her own grief and mortification lo be conscious of what was pass ing around her, sat amidst the bustle, sobbing as if her very heart were,breaking. ‘Pinion the rascal with the strap of his own knapsack,’ said f'-ay, ajHalsey stoutly and fu riously resisted, half maddened at the idea of becoming the prisoner of his rival. ‘Off with him, my lads—off with them all—leave not one behind to tell tales;—if he speaks but loud enough to startle a mouse, send a dozen of your bayonets to his heart. Away with them,’ add ed Gray—‘away with them comrades,’ and low ering his voice as he approached the weeping Sybil, ‘I have a still more precious prize to se cure,’ he said, endeavoring to take her hand ; ‘Sybil—look up, my own loved Sybil. ‘Let me go—let me go, M att. Halsey’ shriek ed the half frantic girl, springing from the ground, and tenring'-berjiand from his grasp.— Let me go!—1 say, sir!—-if I.hated you before, I detest you now!’ ‘Sybil—my own Sybil—look up, if you love me yet,’ exclaimed the youth, putting back the dishevelled ringlets, and gazing fondly on the pallid brow of the agitated Sybil, who had again sunk exhausted to the ground. ‘Nay—look on me once, dear Sybil—If you have ever loved Marlin Gray, now is the time to avow it boldly—look on me.’ Sybil raised her head, and looked a moment wistfully in his face; ‘Yes—yes,’ she murmur ed there is a God above us yet—’ and over powered by a tningl°d emotion of surprise and joy, cast herself on the faithful bosom of her long betrothed lover. ‘Said I not so, my sweet Sybil?—and now have I risked so much for nothing, or will you go with me and promise to become to-morrow, the wife of your own devoted Martin Gray?— We must ftv instantly or part forever, Sybil,’ continued Gray; ‘speak, then, my own vowed wife—will you go with me?’ ‘To the ends of the earth—any where,’ wan the scarce articulate reply; ‘only take me hence, in the whole wide world you are my only friend.’ ‘You go with me then, my own true-hearted Sybil?’ said Gray; ‘yet it is only fair to tell you that my path is beset with dangers—dare you fly with me and brave them all—aye—even death itself?’ ‘I can brave any dangers but those that beset me here,’ answered Sybil—‘if you love me, take me from among these fearful men.’ ‘My own , then, from this hour forever,’ cried the youth, as he folded her to his heart and sealed the compact by impressing a kiss upon her polished forehead—‘and as 1 prove a good and faithful husband bo help me God—and so may he deal with me when I reward vour tried affection and confiding tenderness with ingrati tude or perfidy!’ he emphatically added. ‘Now, then, exert yourself, dear Sybil, and let us fly without, a moment’s delay.’ Caleb, who had stood by, fidgetting, as the ladies say with impatience, now leaped from laughter passed along the barge, ard throwing himself back on his seat he gnashed his teeth in the bitterness of disappointment and impotent rage. The barge, meantime, pursued her rapid and silent career up the bay, propelled by the sturdy strength of those intrepid men whose un paralleled daring had been crowned with a suc cess so little less than miraculous. ‘Sir, I would not have believed it possible you could have escaped the vigilance of the water guards,’ exclaimed the Englishman, when the removal ofthe weapons at last gave tacit per mission to speak. ‘The miracle is wrought however,’ replied his captor; and a plashing of oars the next in stant apprized the voyagers that their boat’s consort had now overtaken them. ‘Iloilo, Thompson,’ shouted his Colonel, joy fully, ‘are you there, my lads?—off safely and with flying colors? hall!’ . ‘And with trumpets sounding into the bar gain, had we but your honor’s permission,’ re sponded the commander of the second barge— what say you, sir, shall we give ’em u few cheers, your honor?’ ‘Not just yet—pull away, my lads!—a good stroke, boys!—Get a little farther up, and then send a few hurrah’s over tho water, and let them hear you, if their nap is out.’ The laugh and joke now went briskly round in an under tone, for in the moment of that brilliant success which their own desperate val or had secured, their generous commander was not inclined to check their honest glee and hard earned triumph. Turning, therefore, a deaf ear to their ill-suppressed merriment, he seated himself beside his prisoner, and, with a respect ful sympathy for his situation, endeavored to beguile him of his gloomy thoughts by engaging him in conversation. The Englishman, how ever, after returning a few ungracious replies again relapsed into silence, and, during the re mainder of the voyage, was allowed to brood in uninterrupted and sullen silence over his misfortune. Before the rising sun again began to laugh on the green hills, our hardy band of bold ad venturers, with their prisoner, reached the con tinent, unhurt, f-om amidst so many dangers.— The English general was immediately conduct ed to the quarters prepared for his reception, and the beautiful Sybil, still accompanied by the faithful and affectionate Caleb Millar, was escorted by her lover to the house of his aunt who resided at Pawtucket, It now becomes necessary once more to re trograde in nur narrative, in order to explain the manner in which the escape of Sybil Prior became connected with the capture of General Prescott. . From the time that Martin Gray first enlist ed in the service of his country, the fidelity, zeal, and intrepidity with which he discharged his duties, had obtained for him, not only the esteem and respect of his comrades, but a very large share of the patronage and countenance of the young and gallant Colonel Barton, who honored him on several occasions with proofs of his confidence and rtgard. On receiving the letter of Sybil Prior, through the hands of the trusty Caleb, therefore, Martin Gray un hesitatingly repaired to the presence of his be loved commander, and placing it before him solicited leave of absence. Happily for Mar tin Gray, as well as for his country, Colonel Barton was not inattentive to the happiness of those under, his command; and pittying the distress of his brave and trusty subaltern, he enquired into the particulars of the affair, with the greatest affability and kindness. At the first view, the scheme which Martin Gray had formed for the rescue of his mistress, appeared so iash and utterly impracticable, that Colonel Barton firmly, though kindly, remonstrated capturing the English commander in the midst of his own garrison—a plan which was as promptly executed as it had been boldly con ceived. What success attended this enterprise of lofty daring we have already seen. The nar rative of the brave ‘General Barton’s Expedi tion,’ forma or e of tho pioudcst pages of our country's history, and is deservedly considered as amongst tho most gloriou s exploits that marked the whole course of our revolutionary struggle. On the day following the capture of General Presco t, Marlin Gray received his young bride from the hand of his beloved commander, who not only honored their nuptials with his pre sence, but even condescended to give away the bride. At his instance, also, the gentlemen of his re giment contributed a sum of money sufficient for the purchase of a neat and comfortable cot tage near Providence, whither the young coup le immediately repaired, and which is said to have been the abode of neatness and content.— At the termination of the war, however, Mar lin Gray disposed of it, and returning to his lit tle farm, rebuilt tlic cottage which the British had destroyed; and here they have since lived, a pattern of conjugal affection, and beloved and respected in their humble sphere by all who know them. \Let not ambition mock their useful toll. Their homely joys, and destiny tfiiSEiTferj Nor gnnilcur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short and ample iinnsils of the poor.” Should the authenticity of this our veritable narrative be questioned, we would recommend it to our reader, for his better satisfaction, to visit the beautifully secluded dwelling of tho happy rustic pair, which he may know by the fragrant vines of sweet-briar and honey-suekle, whose blossoms clustered before. Should he not find the worthy pair at their own hospitable dwelling, he will be most likely to encounter them by directing his 6teps to Overing-house, in the grounds of which they still delight to ramble, and to recapitulate the events of the memorable night of the Tenth of July, 1777. A~W IFEVVA N T E D.\~ Ye fair ones attend! I’ve an offer to make you, Xn Hymen’s soft bands I am anxious to live, For better, lor worse, a companion I'll take mr» Provided she fills the description I give. I neither expect nor can hope for For that wis never a bachelor’s lot, But, choosing a wife, I would make a selection, Which many in my situation would not. I’d have—let me see—I’d not have a beauty, For beautiful women are apt to be Vai~ ; Yet with a small .share, I would think it a duty To take her, be thankful and never complain. Her form must be good, no art to constrain it, And rather above than below middle size, A something, (it puzzles my brain to explain if,) Like eloquent language must flow from her eyes. She must be well-bred or I could not respect her, Good natured and modest, but not very coy, Her mind well informed—’tis the purified nec tar, That sweetens the cup of hymenial joy. Her home she must lova and domestic employ ment, Have practical knowledge of household af fairs ; Arid make it a part of her highest enjoyment, To soften my troubles and lighten my cares* Her age I would have at least to be twenty, But not lo exceed twenty-five at the most: And the girls of that age being everywhere plenty, I hope to get one of that numerous host. No fortune I ask, for Ive no predilection For glitter and show, and pomp and high life— I wish to be bound by the cords of affection— And now I have drawn you a sketch of a wife. If any possess the above requisitions, And wish to be bound by the conjugal band, They will please to 6tep forward—they know the conditions, Inquire ofthe printer—I’m always at hand. IT WON’T DO. It is curious how many thousand things there are which it won’t do to open this cozy planet of ours, whereon we eat, sleep, and get our din ner. For instance— It won’t do to plunge into a lawsuit, relying wholly on the justice of your cause, and not equipped beforehand with a brimming purse. It won’t do to tweak a man’s nose, or tell him he lies, unless you are-perfectly satisfied he has not spunk enough to resent it by blow ing your brains out— or (ifyou have no brains^ cracking vour skull. It won’t do, when riding in a stage coach, to talk of another man with whom you have not personally seen, as being an ‘all-fired scoun drel,’ until you are absolutely, sure he is not sitting before you. It won’t do, when snow-drifts ara piled up mountains high, and sleighs are eternally up setting, (as this winter,) to ride out with a beautiful, lively, fascinating girl, and not ex pect to get smashed with her. It won’t do for a man when, a horse kicks him, to kick back in return. It won’t do to crack jokes on old maids in the presence of unmarried ladies who have passed the age of forty. It won’t do to imagine a legislature who feed
