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semblance to that worthy. Like most tall men, our Long Tom is good humored, and it is quite a mercy that he is so; for having a giant's strength, if he were to use it as a giant, the little folks would stand a poor chance. The giraffe, the tallest of the animal tribe, is the most harmless; the Newfoundland dog never hurts a child; it is only the whipper-snapper curs of creation that fly at one's heels and bark out their spite. • . SITTING two nights since in the cabin, I heard a sweet voice singing the ' Angel's Whisper.' I went on deck, and there, surrounded by a crowd, silent and almost breathless, was a liltle boy warbling away to every heart's content. The lad belongs to the ship, (it is his first voyage,) and a modest unassuming little fellow he is, thirteen years of age. I have heard a good deal of song-singing, and know somewhat of song-making, but I declare that I never experienced more delight from vocal music than I did under the long-boat of the California that night. What heightened my pleasure was the readiness with which the boy complied with my request for another, and another, and another song. There was none of your fussy, boarding-school, cold-catching, ‘I-really-cant, I would-if-I-could sing-song’about him. He did his best to please ; but that desire I fear will be quenched as he grows older, for this world of ours dims the ‘fine gold' too soon.'
The limnings from life among the passengers are very felicitous. An example will be found annexed :
• Mr. Smith is a young man, who has deceived himself by thinking that he is a smart fellow, and likely to do, in the · States ;' an opinion which is not held by any one who has had the honor of his acquaintance. Not long after he got on board the ship, he made a great blunder in imagining that he had lost a pocket-book, containing a vast amount of gold. All the passengers were searched; our Smith searched his boxes, and vowed he was robbed by some one. Mrs. Smith cried; and, after a day or two's sorrow she found that her pocket-book had been poked by herself into a dirty pair of her husband's drawers. All the gold was safe. To the discredit of Mrs. Smith, be it said, she laughed when she found her money, but neglected to put a plaster on the wound which she had inflicted on many an honest-hearted man who had needlessly submitted to the degradation of a per. sonal search. I may here add that the only honorable thing done by the agents in Liverpool was their submission of themselves to the right of search.' Mr. Smith lost caste by this. He and his wife occupy a little space below our poop-cabin. It is boarded off, and its door looks like a post-office, for it is railed. Here the comparison ends, for there are two beds and no letters at all inside. Mr. Smith is an unlucky man: when he boils his kettle he scalds his fingers; if he fries his bacon he loses it as he carries it to his birth; he spills the water from his can as he travels from the water-cask, and gets a lecture from his wife on his return. Am I wrong in saying that Mr. Smith, like one of the brothers in the Eastern story, is the · Unlucky?' Mrs. Smith is surely neither fat, fair, nor forty,' but she is young and foolish. She has some idea that she is a cabin-passenger, and looks down with contempt on the ‘low Airissh,' as she calls her fellow-passengers; the 'low Irish' laughing all the time at the fastidious Mr. Smith. She has a great horror of vulgar people,' and talks very largely of her 'Pa,' who could and would have furnished a cabin for their own use, if they had chosen to accept of such a favor; but the Smiths disdained it. No, they would not be under obligation even to a 'pa;' and so Mrs. Smith and her husband went along with the 'vulgar Irish' in the California. Mrs. Smith is certainly Mr. Smith's master; and poor sumph! he admits it, for he calls her ' my dear’ twenty times a-day. Whenever I hear a man soft-sawdering his wife before strangers, I take it for granted that the petticoat has the best of it. To be sure, Mr. Smith may be easily persuaded to wear the petticoat; and it is a fact that Mrs. Smith knows the fit of her husband's peculiars' to a wrinkle. So ends my Smitheries.'
An amusing scene, arising out of certain désegremens in the steerage, is thus described : MONDAY, JUNE 24. — The longest day! and a glorious morning it is. Every thing is bright and beautiful. Before breakfast an American frigate passed us. Several whales swam about our vessel, and porpoises in great numbers afforded us amusement. One of
them was harpooned through and through, but by a desperate effort the unwieldy-looking rascal got off. As a specimen of the epistolary style of our steerage passengers who can write, 1 subjoin a copy of a note sent this morning to the captain : it is addressed To Captain Auld, Esq., sealing on the Merican Ocean :'
Hon. Sir: DENNIS BRICE, passenger on Board the Callifornia: the petition of Dennis Brice most humbly begs Leave to State to your Hon’r. that Andy Carleton at the Hour of four o'clock Comes up to the fire grate where my poor innisont wife was Baking a little Bread for her child stook his Tea Kittle Down on her bread she took it and lay it in the over grate and he took it Back and Cot her by the shall she wore and took_her Bread and flung about the Deck Hon'r Sir witness to bere Evidence on the Case: Maurice Molone Terrence Berrance Paddy Branniging an the four o'clock watch-med. Honr Captain you Can Inquire of any Respictful man on Board that I was not a man for Breeding an Disturbance But a man to attend all Calls Late or Early since I Came on Board and I hope your Hon'r will not allow any Cub to molest are assault my married wife and I shall for Ever pray.'
“We have issued a summons to · Andy,' whose trial will take place this after
Half past four, P. M. We have had the trial, and a serio-comic affair it was! The accuser was the writer of the letter, a copy of which I have given verbatim et literatim; the defendant was as big a scoundrel as ever emigrated to seek in a new land a new character. It was an amusing affair altogether. The judge selected was an old man; (the best man at our Sunday services ;) he sat on a cross-carpet-stool, with a very grave face, and an unwilling inflexibility of countenance. The jury was selected by the crier of the court, Mr. Winch; and the counsel were, for the prisoner, ANDY CARLTON, the scribbler of this record; and for the plaintiff, Mr. SPENCER, a fellow-passenger. The trial commenced, and Constable Winch, having with the handle of a mop-stick endeavored to beat into the heads of the jury that they were to give a proper verdict, called on the counsel for the plaintiff to open his case. The counsel for the prosecution did open the case, but unfortunately he left so large an opening in his brief that the other counsel saw through it. The first witness was called: she was the wife of Mr. Dennis Brice. She seemed frightened to death, and told her own story in so sinuous a way, that after a smart but civil cross-examination, her husband pulled her from the capstan, (which served the purpose of a witness-box,) and said the whole affair was 'ad-d humbug !
“Here the counsel for the defendant rose, amid a storm of ' Arrah's! Be Jasus's! Is that fair now? Och, murther!'. She sha'n't swear, anny way! Hurr-o-0-00-ooh! And so, seeing the court was breaking up, the counsel for the prisoner addressing the jury, said: “Gentlemen! you have witnessed these unlawful proceedings: I am for a repeal of all nuisances. I give into your hands the great privilege of affording ‘justice to Ireland ;' but when a witness is under examination, what, gentlemen! what would you say if the counsel was interrupted? Would you not think that something was wrong?'
“Yes! yes! shouted the foreman of the jury; 'we acquit the prisoner!
• The counsel looked at the judge, who winked at him, and the counsel winked at the judge in return. The prisoner walked away, looking like a rogue who had had his neck in a noose, and by means of a scamp of a lawyer, slipped out of it.'
We find toward the close of the · Diary' the following example of the ‘Practical use of Mesmerism.' It was derived from one of the passengers, and is averred to be a fact.' We, being admitted sceptics, are not bound to say that we believe it, however; but the reader can do as he pleases in the premises,' which are rather extensive :
"A few days ago, one of the trains of the London and Birmingham Rail-way, being half an hour behind time, created considerable anxiety. Dr. Elliotson, who happened to be at the terminus, placed one of the porters in a state of mesmeric clairvoyance, and ordered him to proceed along the line and ascertain the cause of the delay. The man was asked if he had met the train; he said yes. He was then told to ascertain the cause of its detention, the name of the engine, and the number of carriages. He answered at once that he had done so; that the hook attaching the engine to the carriages had given way; that
it was found necessary to change the engine; that the 'Vulcan' had started again with nine carriages, and would be in, all safe, in half an hour. The engineers at the station said this could not be true, as the · Vulcan' had not power to convey · re than six carriages. The Doctor ordered the man to go back again, which he did, but confirmed his former testimony. Within the time stated, the · Vulcan' cane in bringing with it the nine carriages, as stated by the mesmerised messenger. In consequence of this proof of the p wer of Mesmerism, under proper direction, the different rail-roads are in communication with the Doctor and with each other, on the terms of a permane.at engagement.'
Gossip with READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. — We had anticipated from our Pittsfield correspondent a prepared report of the BerksHIRE FESTIVAL, and had issued our special ukase to have it handed up;' but the following passage from a recent private letter of our friend, in explaining itself, will exculpate the writer from any well-grounded charge of short-coming : 'Notwithstanding your í vermillion edict,' I cannot write you an account of the Berkshire Jubilee. What could be urillen of it, has already been written and well written. I could scarcely do as much ; certainly not more. But it does not seem to me, and has not, since that first morning of the festival, when every father's door was wide open, and sons and daughters, long absent, came crowding into the old homesteads ; it does not and has not seemed to me that the Berkshire Jubilee is a thing to be described. You may tell of the gatherings that were held, of the speeches that were made, of the songs which were sung, and may tell it well, and yet they were not the jubilee. THAT was far down, deep in the innermost sanctuary of the hearts of children and parents, and cannot be revealed to the eyes of strangers. In the family with which I am connected, the ten living children, all in middle life, scattered over the wide world, came together for the first time in seventeen years, and sat around the table and knelt around the altar of the parents who had reared them, still living on in a green old age. On the Sabbath evening following the jubilee, the last evening they were to be together, they all met, as had been their custom in childhood, in the west parlor of the old mansion, to attend family prayers. As they gathered at the call from hall and chanıber to the wonted place, the full, rich sunlight of a summer afternoon streamed through the thick blossoming foliage around the windows; and the Sabbath quiet, the quiet of a New-England Sabbath, seemed to have brooded over every heart. The mother read aloud from the Bible; middle-aged men, grown stern amid the cares and business of life, and mothers wrapped up in love for their own loved ones in other homes far away, became children again in the hearing of that voice which they first heard and loved in infancy. All then united in singing a hymn written by one of the daughters for the occasion. And then, each kneeling before the same altar where had been recorded the earliest vows of chile od, the family prayer again ascended, as incense of sacrifice to our common Father in Heaven. It had been thought proper to commemorate an event which could hardly be expected to occur again in the same family, and a beautiful Oxford Bible had been selected as the most fitting memorial of such a meeting. At the close of the prayer, the eldest of the group, himself a man passing the meridian of life, placed upon the knees of the father and mother this testimonial to parental fidelity, remarking only, that the same truths which had been commended to them in their childhood were now returned to them as the staff of their weary years. I need not say to you, that the whole scene was touching and beautiful, and that no words of mine can do it justice. Its interest was heightened by scenes of sorrow which had occurred but recently, and which were in the hearts of all who were present. One of these was in the recent decease of WIL AM L. STONE, who was to have the days of the jubilee at our old homestead. What was his worth, his public spirit, his noble beneficence, his conscientious uprightness, the world knows : but what was bis worth, his beneficence, and his uprightness to us, we only can feel and know.' . . .PER
HAPS there is no one thing in this country in which there has been exhibited such astonishing improvement within the last five years as in the Science of Agriculture, American farmers are every where emulating each other in the acquisition of practical agricultural science. The same is the case in England; which has given rise, we may infer, to the annexed paragraph from · Punch :'
"We are happy to find that there is to be a College of Agriculture, and that the worldly clodhopper will henceforth have his Alma Mater, like the Cantab, and the honest highlow of industry will tread the sacred groves of Academus as well as the aristocratic Oxonian.
* We see no difficulty in organiziog a College of Agriculture, and we can suggest a few of the probable professorships. Of course there will be a chair of new-laid eggs, which the professor of poultry would be well qualified to occupy. Degrees will be conferred in guano; and a series of lectures on the philosophy of making hay when the sun shines, would, no doubt, be exceedingly popular. We should propose that, previous to matriculation, every student should be required to undergo an examination on moral philosophy in connection with chalf, and the efficacy of thrashing by hand when the ears are unusually lengthy. Corresponding with the university Masters of Arts, there could be Bachelors of Barley; and the undergraduates might be brought direct to the Agricultural College from Plough, as they are now brought to the universities immediately from Harrow.
* The examination papers would at first be ditficult to frame, but the following may be some guide for preparing them:
Find the square root of a stick of horse-radish. * Describe the milky way, distinguishing the whey from the milk, and cbalking out the way by which the milk gets there.
•We merely throw out these as hints, but the professors themselves will be better able to frame the necessary questions for the use of students. Clover will offer a very wide field; and hay, though rather dry, will be the sort of food that the students may take advantage of.
We have received from the mover of the resolution at a late meeting of the New-York Historical Society that the usual vote of thanks should be withheld in the case of a lecture by Dr. BEAKLEY, an explanation of that affair, which divests it of certain of its repulsive features. We concede, as any one acquainted with the mover of the obnoxious resolution will readily do, that there was nothing in his motives unbecoming a gentleman;' but we still hold, with every person whom we have heard express an opinion in the matter, that the proceeding referred to was at least unnecessary and in bad taste. ::: Sketches and Pictures of Life,' by John RAMBLE, Esq., is the title of a clever series of papers recently commenced in the • Saturday Emporium' weekly journal of this city, a · family newspaper,' to which we have already alluded in terms of prospective praise, which time has proved to have been well deserved. This little episode, which occurs in the opening chapter of the series in question, is exceedingly felicitous : 'I am still a hale, hearty, and withal merry old fellow. My heart might run races yet with many a tyro of twenty, and win them too. The breath of care has passed lightly over it, and the frost of time has scarcely turned a leaf yellow. I can still see the comedy as well as the tragedy of life, and relish it better. My eyes still flash with their early fires, and my heart, sensible as in youth to the charms of woman, bends low to her beautiful shrine, worshipping there with a devotion that would have honored Amadis de Gaul, and been worthy the Cid Hamet Benengeli. Were I to break my looking.glass I should still be young: no doubt of it, whatever. What is it that makes a man old? Is it the silver tinge upon his locks? Is it the mere lapse of years? Is it not rather that heavy chill' which seals up the fountains of the heart, and quenches the fire of the spirit? If this indeed be so, then are there many older men than John Ramble who have not seen half his years. When the blood steals from the heart as if it were attending the funeral of hope; when the soul moves no longer like the dashing torrent of spring, but like the stream in winter, with low murmurs beneath impenetrable ice; when we lose the power either to rejoice or weep, then indeed are we old, though the lines of youth mock us by their presence, and its locks of jet hang upon our brows. God help those who are thus old before their time, and have become their own soul's sepulchre ! A Portion of our readers will remember the unique sketch of The Married Man's Eye,' written many months since for the KNICKERBOCKER, by an accomplished American authoress. We have good grounds, from strong internal evidence, for believing that · The Pantomime of Private Life,' which appeared lately in an English magazine, was suggested by the article of our correspondent. The reader who may remember the sketch in question will share our belief, when he has perused the subjoined passage from the trans-Atlantic essay:
IMAGINE yourself at a large dinper-party, which is given on a scale of apparent magnificence, but of real meanness. There is only one servant to eighteen guests; but what of that? the deficiency of attendance is supplied by the pantomimic gestures of the mistress; which, though perfectly well understood by the servant, are scarcely to be detected by the most acute guest ; to such a pitch of dexterity has Mrs. Byers brought the science of dumb motion! Is Mr. Johnson's plate empty?
- a look carefully darted into the centre of it tells the waiteress that she must remove it instantly. Does Mrs. Pursey pause for the fish-sauce ?- an angry look at the casters, with a side-glance at the ill-served guest, brings, as if by magic, the soy to her side. But it is the juvenile branches of Mrs. Byer's family who best understand her gestures. Is Miss Amelia Byers reclining with more ease than grace in her chair? - a well-directed frown from the mamma, and a sudden erection of her own figure, cause the young lady to correct the fault with ready promptitude. Mr. Byers is equally under his wife's silent dominion. An old maiden aunt, the subject perhaps of some family expectations, seated in a corner of the table, is quite unnoticed by the other guests : Mrs. Byers looks her husband full in the face, glances at the neglected guest, and then at a decanter. Mr. Byers understands at once, and immediately addresses the hitherto forgotten lady, desiring 'the pleasure of a glass of wine;' which is accordingly drunk, to the satisfaction of all parties concerned, both in the suggestion and imbibition thereof. ::. 'Looking abroad in general society, we find a great variety of pantomimists. The most conspicuous are those who, with few real pretensions, obtain and preserve the character of connoisseurs, not by their conversation, but by their motious. Sit one of these down to a dessert, and you will observe the decisive criticism he will silently pass upon the wine. Having filled his glass, he holds it to the light, his teye, and, having satisfied his mind on one point, he holds the glass close under his nose, deliberately passing it to and fro. He then drinks in a manner peculiar to prosessed widetasters, and pronounces judgment by an approving nod, or by the condemnatory wry face of a man taking physic. Follow him to a picture-gallery, and you will observe him go through a great variety of gestures to be thought a dilettante and a man of taste. He first looks at the frame of the picture, to judge if the dimensions mentioned in the catalogue be correctly set down. He next scans the painting for a minute, and then, putting his hand over his eyes to form a shade, walks slowly backward, till he gets into what you are to suppose to be the right focus. Placing one hand behind him, and resting the other on lis chin, he remains for a moment in an attitude of profound thought Presently an idea seems to strike him, and he doubles his fist and adjusts it before one eye as if it were a telescope. The by-standers regard him with a kind of awe, for surely,' they think, he must be a great critic.' To inspire this feeling, and for nothing else, has the supposed connoisseur gone through his pantomime; for when he sees the people reverently looking at him, his object is effecied, and he walks out of the gallery, followed by the dread of assembled artists, and the admiration of amateurs. His musical criticisms, are delivered in similar silence, but are not the less oracular.'
We have been asked a good many times what the Welch · Rebeccaites' derive their name from, and what it is all about.' It would seem that they derive it from the highest authority, Divine Writ. How far their actions accord with other portions of Scripture, is another question. In the sixtieth verse of the twenty-fourth chapter of Genesis, we find, in the blessing of Rebecca, that in addition to a numerous family, her seed were to 'possess the gate of those which hate them.' The Cymro applies the passage those that hate them,' and not without reason, to the Saxons, who have distressed Wales with their laws in many instances; and he seeks a cover for his attack upon the toll-gates from his Bible. • . · IN looking over the last number of the Missionary Herald,' we were glad to perceive that in the region of Madura, successful exertions are making to spread the gospel ; where, if we are to judge from the “hard names' given to places and persons, it must be great needed. Nullapanaikewputty, Mootoomenammaarl, Pemjamputty, Savvareemootoo, Irroolappen, Sevvavaakeyar, Bodkinaikenoor, and Keeluntoovalepillay, are the most euphonious names in that quarter. There was a fine print lately in COLMAN's window in Broadway, transferred to paper from the eminent pencil of Horace VERNET, representing an Arab kneeling upon his mat beside his hampered dromedary, in the midst of the great desert, over whose wastes an early twilight was extending its gathering gloom. It was a very spirited scene, admirably depicted, and in all its accessories strikingly natural. The skeletons of the dromedaries, dotting the long interval of the way the travellers had passed, reminded us of a passage in Dumas's Journal of a Visit to Sinai:'
"The dromedary is not so troublesome and importunate an animal as a horse. He continues his course without stopping, without eating, without drinking; nothing about him betrays sickness, hunger or exhaustion. The Arab, who can hear from so great a distance, the roar of a lion, the neigh of a horse, or the noise of men, hears nothing from his haghin, but its quickened or lengthened respiration; it never utters a complaint or a groan. But when nature is vanquished by suffering ; when privations have exhausted its strength; when life is ebbing, the dromedary kneels down, stretches