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THE ARTS, LITERATURE, &c.…

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OPXKIONS OF THE PRESS.

OUR MISCELLANY. -+-

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OUR MISCELLANY. -+- Ea gland to ATrerica.- I bid thee ha,il! dear Jonathan, Thou younger brother mine, And drop, as erst I promis d thee, A true and friendly line; And with it send a fervent wish, That Britain long may be In league with thee for truth and right, And holy liberty. The quarrels in thy family, Thank God, are now pass d o'er, And men once slaves to fellow men Shall be thus slaves no more; And I with thee will ever strive To keep this flag unfurl'd— Commerce and peace between the States, And freedom for the world!" Oh, may there never, never flash Along these magic lines, The words that dash a nation's hope With lurid war's dread signs; But as the pow'r of science binds Our land so close with thine, So may our hearts, friend Jonathan, In peace fore aye entwine. —Correspondent of Athenaeum. Indian Gossip.—Two gentlemen entered between Madras and Salem, and having exchanged the usual greetings, conversed upon the new governor, Lord Napier. The right man in the right place," at last remarks the younger of the two-a first-rate fellow. My wife and I were coming down in the train with him a few days ago, and he had breakfast waiting at There he sent us an invite to join the repast, but having breakfasted, we declined the honour. A little time after he sent us out a large fid of ice, half the size of a three-dozen chest, for our consumption on the journey, &c. &c." "Very kind," grunted the audience- One silent man, coiled up in a corner read- ing the Saturday Review, peered over the periodical, and remarked: If that had been Sir John Lawrence, what would he have done in the same case ?" There was silence for a few seconds, when a sharp, active man, washing his hands with invisible soap while he spoke, replied—"If the papers speak true, he might have sent you. the ice, but his private secretary might have come after, and asked you to pay three annas per seer for it.The Englishman. An Escape.—It was nearly day when I awoke, wet and shivering—it had been raining hard; but I was too much fatigued, and too familiar with rain on almost every day and night since we crossed the river to be awakened by a wetting. For awhile I could not realise everything, but it was not difficult to discover myself still a prisoner, for, on both sides, at full length, lay my two guards, snoring away losdiy. To escape was my first thought; but were there any foes near? To satisfy myself, I called oat, but rather softly, "Corporal of the guard!" No reply, and my friends snored on. I called again -still no answer but the deep, heavy breathing of my companions; so with- out further ceremony I crawled out from be- tween them. This was rather a difficult job, for each lay with pistol in hand, and they had spread a blanket across my body, each lying on the edges that overlapped me. I inched out like a snake; and when on my feet, felt that I was once more a free ma-n. My pistol and sabre had been made fast to the saddle of one of my guards, and were soon fogain in my possession. The next thing was to dispose of them, intending to kill one and capture the other. But when I pnshedthe muzzle of my pistol among the thick black cutis of the one who had threatened me, I bad not barbarity enough in my composition to fire. No, I could not kill tha.t sleeping man; and so, mounting one of the horses and leading the other, I went into Williamsport, woke up a squad of my astonished men, and sent them for the sleeping beauties, whom they soon brought in, and turned over to the provost- marshal.—Four Years in the Saddle. By Colonel Harry Gilmor. Ceremony.—I had only time to tell you of our arrival at Umritzir on Wednesday, and not of the show, which waa really surprising. F. and I camo on in the carriage earlier than the others, which was a great advantage, for the dust of fifty or sixty elephants does not subside in a hurry, and they spoil the whole spectacle. We met the old man going to fetch G. That is one of the ceremonies, naturally tiresome, to which we have become quite used, and which, in fact, I shall expect from you, when we go home. If the Maharajah asks G. to any sight, or even to a a common visit, G. cannot stir from his tent, if he starves there, till an istackball, or embassy, comes to fetch him. So this morning we were all dressed by candle-light, and h%\t the tents were pulled down and all the chairs but two gone, while G. was 'waiting for Karrack Singh to come seven miles to fetch him, and Kurruok Singh was waiting till the Governor-General's agent came to fetch him, and then the Maharajah was waiting till they were half. way, that he might fetch them all. Then, the instant they meet, G. nimbly steps into itnnjeet's howdahj and they embrace French fashion, and then the who's procession mingles, and all this takes place every day now. If the invitation comes from our side," B. and the aides-de-camp act Kurruek Singh, and have to go baokwaida and forwards fifteen miles on their elephants. So now, if ever we are living in St. John's-wood, and you ask me to dinner in Grosvenor- pla.ee, I shall first sand Giles down to your house to say I ani ready: and you must send R., as your istaclchall, to fetch me, and I shall expect to meet you yourself, somewhere near Connaught-plaoe, and then we will embrace and drive on, and go hand-in-hand in to dinner, and sit next to each other. If I have any- thing to say (which is very doubtful, for I have grown rather like Hindu Roa), I wiii mention it to Giles, who will repeat it to Gooby, who will tell you, and you will wink your eje and stroke your hair, and in about ten minutes you will give me an answer through the same channels. Now you untlersttind,-Up the Country. By the Einity Eden. Sturgeon-fishing.—The spearman stands in the bow, armed witti a most formidable spear. The handle, from seventy to eighty feet long, is made of white pine-wood; fitted on the spear-haft is a barbed point, in shape very much like a shuttlecock, sup- posing each father represented by & piece of bone, thickly barbed, and very sharp itt the end. This is so it contrived that it can be easily detached from the long handle by a sharp,_ dexterous jerk. To this barbed contrivance a long line is ms,de fast, which is carefully coiled away close to the spearman, like a harpoon-line in a whala boat; The four canoca, alike equipped, are paddled. into the centre of the stream, and side by side drift slowly down, with the current, each spear- man carefully feeling along the bottom with his spear, constant practice having taught the crafty savages to know a sturgeon's back when the spear comes in con- tact with ic. The spear-head touches the drowsy fish; a sharp plunge, and the redskin sends the notched points through armour and cartilage, deep into the leatber-Iiks muscles. A skilful jerk frees the long handle from the barbed end, which remains inextricably fixed in the fish; the handle is thrown, aside, the line seized and the straggle begins. The first impulse is to resist this objection- able intrusion, so the angry sturgeon comes up to see what it all means. This curiosity is generally repaid by having a second spear sent crashing into him. He then takes a header, seeking safety in flight, and the real excitement commences. With might and I main the bowman plies the paddles, and the spearman pays out the lin^ the canoe flying through the water. The slightest tangle, the least hi lea, and over it goes; it becomes, in fact, a sheer trial of paddle versus fin. Twist and tarn as th sturgeon may, all the canoes are with him. He flings himself out of the water, dashes through _it, under it, and skims along the surface; but all is in vain, the canoes and their dusky oarsman follow all his efforts to escape, as a cat follows I a. moase. ^Gradually the sturgeon grows sulky and tired, obstinately floating on the surface. The savage knows he is sot vanquished, but only biding a chance for revenge; so he shortens up the line, and gathers quickly on him, to get another spear in. It is done,— and down viciously dives the sturgeon; but pain and weariness begin to tell, the struggles grow weaker and weaker as life ebbs slowly away, until the mighty armour-plated monarch of the river yields himself a captive to the dusky native in his frail canoe.—The I toaiwradst in Vmeomer's

THE WEIGHT AND THE ROUGH.

HE NEVER CALLED AGAIN.

HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY.

HOW TO CLEAR THE PARK.

THE COUET.

POLITICAL GOSSIP. --+--