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* , aln't his o I rather guess, and I spect he'd not, mebbe, keep all his judgments for your innimies, if he was’n’t very marciful to meddlers with his Providence. Gosh! if 't n’t the most easiest thing in natur to blether about yere own misfortin and clap yere hands, like a dunghill rooster's wings, when sorrer on sorrer comes on yere foe, and call his mis’ry and horrer a judgment o' the Lurd. There 's some folks I’ve heard of as do n’t b'lieve in maracles—blame me, if I dose not think it's a 'tarnal maracle that the Lurd can look deown from heaven on sich marciless desputs and give 'em a mou'ful o' his pure air to breathe.” .

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Bulwer's Play.—Since the announcement of the new play by the distinguished novelist, our theatre-going folks have been on the qui vive, and it was our own determination to..be present at its first representation. Accordingly on Monday evening we repaired the temple of Thespis, and were gratified by a display of beauty and sashion in the dress circles. We have never seen Miss Tree in any character in which she appeared to so much advantage.

With the play we were delighted. ' The language is beautiful, and both the plot and denouement are entirely original. No one can be justified in taking any exceptions to the character of the Duchess de la Valliere, as it is written by the author or represented by Miss Tree. In fact it

resentation reflects much credit to the author, actress, and the managers of the theatre. - - - ". . . .”

Cooke's CIRCUs.--This splendid establishment continues to be patronized.— Crowded audiences nightly witness, a varied display of strength, agility and skill. There is no tiresome repetition—night after night there is something new to interest and command our admiration.

FAshion.—-Tight sleeves continue to gain favour, and a round tapering arm looks very becoming with them. White silk hats, with red artificials, are very. much worn—large in the face, but by no means glaring. A variety of shawls are in vogue—the plaid and the chinille take. the lead. A plain white dress, with light, gaiter boots, a white hat and a chinille. shawl, has a rich appearance and a very pretty effect. A profusion of curls at the side of the face is fashionable.

s

By reference to our terms it will at once be seen that we do not receive subscriptions for a less term than one year. Although soline of our subscribers choose to pay on delivery, still they are bound to receive the whole volume. The terms of the Visiter are so very moderate, that we

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two bites of a cherry.”

. The coloured population of Philadelphia is estimated at 25,000. . . .

A CURious PETITION.—Mr. John Quincy Adams has presented to Congress a petition from a citizen of the town of Sandwich, New York, praying Congress to make him an alien / - - .

Love is like a running river—it goes downward and downward—but it does not come back to the spring. The poor

withered tree up the stream, and the oungest born is a pretty flower on the

bank below. Love leaves the old tree

and goes to the flower.

Sketeros Discovered—on wednesday; while the workmen were digging a trench in, Washington Square, for the purpose of laying the gas pipes, they un:

** of an excellent moral, and its rer,

covered a skeleton, with which they found

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old granny in the chimney corner is a “

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twelve cents in a purse, a knife, and a pair of buckles, lying among the bones of the feet.

Absence of MIND.—It is related of a Prussian duelist, that repairing to the place appointed, accompanied by a friend, he mistook his business, and instead of shooting his antagonist deliberately blowed out his brains.—It would be very fortunate for society if all duelists made the same mistake.

MATRIMony.—Matrimony is like masonry—no one knows the secret until he is initiated. It is like an eel-trap—very easy got in, but plaguy hard to get out. It is, in its first stage, like a wind that fans the name of love: but unfortunately too much fanning blows it all out. It is everything that is contradictory—sweet or bitter, just as it was taken.

ASLIGHT DIFFERENCE,-"That is Pope's villa, said a gentleman to his wife the other day. “Yes,” interrupted the waterman who rowed the party, “that is Pope's willow just hangiug over the water.”

A FUNERAL HYMN.
B Y Mort s at o O p I e .

Our brother is sleeping,
But why should we mourn,
Though dust, unto dust,
His cold ashes return ?
Our sorrows are mortal,
His sorrows are o'er ;
The pangs of disease
Can afflict him no more.

He early was call’d
From this valley of tears;

A christian in knowledge,
An infant in years :
His sun has conc down
In the dew of his morn;

And the hearts of his kindred
With anguish are torn.

Their thoughts dwell in darkness,
The worm and the shroud,
But his spirit has burst,
[,ike a beam, from the cloud;
His exit was gladness, ,
His parting was sweet,_
He went forth rejoicing
His Saviour to meet.

He has passed the dark valley
Our blessed Lord trod,
- Conducted by saints -
To the presence of God . . .

|will receive immediate attention.

Then let us rejoice,
Though as mortals we mourn,
That dust unto dust,
His cold ashes return
Douro, U. C. -

LIFE.

a y E. s. cAra on.

The golden sun his genial rays,
On Spring's fair bosom sheds,
And over April's dreary days,
A glow of comfort o: -
Anon, the sombre clouds arise,
Their wat'ry stores decend,
Then brilliant beams and shining skies
In gloom and chillness end.
Ucnertain thus of sun or show'rs,
We spend inconstant April's hours.

So Life is all a changeful scene,
When man's brief race is run,
His Sun of joy shines out serene,
Then grief beclouds that sun.
The dreams of Hope beguile his heart,
And premise blissful years,
But quick Misfortune hearls her dart,
And man awakes to tears.
Our life, no constant good secures,
Nor yields a pleasure that endures.

Little Falls, 1837.

SONG.

Oh! deem not earthly love again
Can e'er light up this heart of mine;
Believe me, words are all in vain,
Though breathed by lips so pure as thine.
I know thee—even as thou art—
That virtue sways thy bosom's throne:
But leave, oh! leave a widow’d heart
To brood upon its griefs alone.

• Go, seek some young and kindred breast,
Awake to life and love's delight;
. There let thy generous wishes rest,
In thoughts by day, in dreams by night.
Go, blame not thou the secret tear
Which 'tis my only joy to shed;
Check not the sigh to mourners dear,
So sadly sacred to the dead!

so-
TERMHS.

The PHILADELPHIA VISITER AND PAR LOUR COMPANION, is published every other Satruday, on fine white paper, each number will contain 24 large super-royal octavo pages, enveloped in a fine printed cover, forming at the end of the year a volume of nearly 600 pages, at the very low price of 81.25 cts. per annum in advance. $200 will be charged at the end of the year.

Post Masters, and others who will procure four subscribers, and enclose Five Dollars to the proprietor, W. B. ROGERS, phia, shall receive the 5th copy gratis.

All orders addressed to the publisher, post paid,

Editors by copying our prospectus, and sendin n ipoper of the same to the office, shall receive the Visiter for one year.

Chesnut street, Philadel-,

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T H E G R () () M S M A N,
A TALE FoundED UPON INCIDENTS IN REAL LIFE.
by H. N. Moone, Authon or “many Moam is.”
CHAPTER VII. - -
ed her as a vision—seen—but indistinct
Where was she now 1 -
He was as yet confined to bed, and it

Owing to the shock he received at the certainty of his wife's death, and the confusion of crowded incidents treated of in the preceding chapter, Mr. West was was requisite that some one should be contaken sick. fore three days he was stantly at his side. “Eliza,” said he, advery low indeed; so much so that the skil-dressing a servant girl in attendance. fill physician, whom we have previously “Sir-" . . . . had occasion to notice in the course of our “Who has been nursing me during my narrative, had actually fears for his safety. sickness 7" - He recognised no one—not even his most “The seamstress, sir,” was the reply to intimate acquaintances. While in slum-his question; an answer unexpected inber his breathings were long-drawn, and deed, and Mr. West was unable to comapparently painful. Thus he lay for prehend it. Thinking he might possibly. months—four months—upon the verge of have been misunderstood, he repeated the the grave as it were, but fortunately, and interrogatory, to which, however, the same j. the joy of those around him, he response was returned. all at once began to get better. He had “The seamstress who is she 7" lain in a dream, comparatively speaking, “Indeed, sir, I cannot say. Your wife's from which he was suddenly awakened. relatives recommended her here, but ever During his sickness he was mentally in-since she entered the house, instead of sensible; and his recollections of what pursuing her occupation, she has faithfully had occurred, even after his convales-devoted her attention to you.” cence, were at first imperfect; but, as the “How long has she been here !” renewal of his health continued, the facts, “She came two or three days after you gradually unfolded themselves—the flight were first taken sick, and has remained of his wife—his daughter's death—By-since then.” - ard's revenge—and Garcia's fate; these, Here there was a pause of silence and and the circumstances connected with of thought on the part of Mr. West for a them. Amidst it all, too, he icmembered minute or two, then broken by him with seeing, at intervals, when his sight was another inquiry. “A seamstress you say open, but his reason yet clouded, the form she is " . . - of a female moving noiselessly and with “Yes, sir.” * care around his bedside. He remember-. At this moment, as it will often happen,

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• . . . . . . . . . *...* * * . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ; !. - - * . . . . . . ... . . . . . . . * . . . : , . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ." - *. - * > . . . . : - . . . . . . " " . . . . . . . ‘ru. . . . ............. ... ' - . 74 . . . . . * . . . . : . . . The Groomsman. - .. - * * . . . " * * * . . “. . . ~ ~ —

obey the order, and her master, leaning

lved in a labyrinthian train of thought. Mrs. Bennet the mime was not familiar

were. A seamstress' . She had been re:

the wilds of America for a living. Re- : verses in life are daily occurring, and those that are now rolling along in the . luxury of a carriage, may soon be begging

... of that! Life is full of changes, and to be
. . . poor reflects no disgrace, Louis Philippe, {

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------

Julia's -
ed older than Mrs. West. ..."

His thoughts were here interrupted by

the entrance of the housekeeper, Marga

ret, whom he had sent for—an old woman

who had been in the service of his father before Théodoré was born, and who was

considered more as a relative of the family. has so I know it—the truth of what you . .

than a hireling. At the period of Mr. and Mrs. West's domestic differences she was

the only one of the household that syim

pathized with the latter. When her mas

- ier finally insisted upon having séparate|

sleeping apartments, she took the liberty

of remonstrating againstit, and even went so far as to j

. After the, departure of Mrs. West, the others would throw it up to Margaret äs a confirmation of guilt, but the old woman

raid him with injustice.

would not hear to it, and on all occasions faithfully defended: the character of her

former mistress. When asked by any

one her reasons for thus insisting on the innocence of her master's wife, her excla

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né–she is too good-too amiable!”
... “Well, Margaret,” said Mr. West, as
she entered the room, asking her some

trifling question as a matter of form, and

desirous of humoring her old age before he ventured upon the subject for which he

expressly wanted her. Taciturnity was

- †: means a quality of hers; and when

she was talkative enough. Old maids are generally starched, stiff and formal—precise in every thing they do or say, and at the age of fifty and upwards,

with as many wrinkles in the face as there are crimples in the Elizabeth-like collars - round their véiny necks, Margaret was - - —so much so, that I am on the tiptoe of

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- .. 75 not piritual paleness of her cheeks with “You may outlive me too," said the montling bloom. Besides, she look-invalid smiling. . . . . . . . . . . .

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and now, alast. it is too late to repair the

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lay back upon his pillow for several mo." ments without speaking, and Margaret,

of repose, advanced to the door and was . about leaving the room—but Mr. West. motioned her to remain, and after a sécond intermission of silence asked, if she . . did not think, there was a strong resemblance between the seamstress, Mrs. Bennet, and his late, lamented wife? . . . . .”. “Why—yes—there is a likeness,” said : Margaret. “I had not observed it before, . but now that you speak of it, I think she

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them till next fall I shall be sixty-four.”.

* . . . . . . . . ". , , - • *. -

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a treasure in her that you can never re. : : place.” She loved you; and she has--".

grave—to wake on earth no more!" Af. . . ter, giving utterance to these words, he . .

under the impression that he was desirous

does fook something like the portrait in

satisfied she has hitherto moved in a high.
or sphere than the humble orbit in which ". .

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