A LIVE HOOSIER.

We love to look at a real, genuine, live Hoosier, and we love to talk to him. We do not mean those fever and ague affected fellows who find their way into Indiana and out of it again, and who are little better than locomotive medicine chests; we mean those stalworth sons of the soil, with sound hearts and strong arms, who-are "to the manner born." Such a one is John Whitworth, whom we met yesterday in the Second Municipality police office. John came to Orleans in his favourite mode of conveyance, a flatboat. The captain of the flatboat, in paying off John, gave him a bad ten dollar bill, of which he was not aware. John caught our fancy wonderfully, and while setting on a side seat, waiting for proof of his innocence, we sat beside him with a view of bringing him out. "What height are you?" said we.

"Six feet three, scant," said John.

"Why, how did you find room for yourself in the watchhouse" said we.

"I coiled myself up," said John.

"What age are you," said we.

"Twenty-two, come next husking time," said John.

"Ever been in a calaboose before?" said we.

"No, sir-r-r; it was my first time to look through the iron bars," said John.

"What is your politics?" said we.

"I'm touched off mighty strong with whiggery, I tell you, stranger," said John.

"Why are you not a locofoco?" said we.

"I couldn't no how," said John-" I live too near the old coon (Harrison) for that."

"Indiana is a fine country to live in, no doubt," said we— "plenty of corn, bread, whiskey and all that."

"Yes, sir-r-r," said John-"it's an extensive country; plenty of corn, bread, pork and all that, as you say, and— whiskey out of the ashes."

What this last phrase meant, we could not divine, and we candidly confessed our ignorance to John, who seemed to pity us for our limited comprehension, but told us it meant "lots," ," "plenty." The dialogue broke off here. We need not say that John was honourably discharged.

A NEGATIVE BEAUTY.

191

A NEGATIVE BEAUTY.

In the countenance of Catharine Gafney many of the essentials to beauty exist, but they are not arranged or regulated well. But for a slight misplacing of these essentials, Catharine would be a charming creature, and indeed as it is, we can only say that her style of countenance differs from our beau ideal, though to others she may still be all fascination. We were early prejudiced in favour of red lips, and consequently we cannot easily reconcile ourselves to seeing the ruby of beauty transferred from the lips to the nose. Neither can we easily surrender our preference for a full row of pearly teeth, instead of a cavern of stumps

"Like broken bottles on an old dead wall.”

We like blue eyes and black eyes, but we have a foolish antipathy to eyes that are black and blue. Hair is undoubtedly an ornament to man and woman, yet, as there may sometimes be too much of it, so there may sometimes be too little. Catharine has just thirty-seven hairs, and as she scorns to wear a wig, this fact is fully apparent. Of these thirty-seven hairs, Catharine at any rate boasts a pleasant variety in the way of colour, ten of them being gray, ten brown, ten red, and seven yellow. Catharine's eyes are red, caused, probably, by her looking crosswise continually at her ripe red nose. Catharine's lips are blue, her cheeks yellow, her forehead and neck brown, and with admirable taste her dress is composed of an assortment of these same colours-blue, brown, black, red, gray, saffron, every colour but white is mingled in Catharine's dress; and with commendable independence of mind she has, in spite of the tyranny of fashion, abandoned the health-destroying corset, so that her motley coloured gown

"Floats as wild as summer breezes,

Leaving every beauty free

To sink or swell as heaven pleases."

Catharine stood yesterday in the Recorder's court-not like a Madonna, nor a Muse, nor like Madame Lecomte, nor like Venus

but like her own identical and not-to-be-counterfeited self, Catharine Gafney.

Recorder. So, Mrs. Gafney, you're here again.”

Catharine." Troth, thin, I dare say I am here, since your honour says so. Sure it's not there ye are sittin' to be tellin'

lies."

Recorder. What could I do for you now, Mrs. Gafney, to induce you to give over drinking and become a respectable woman?"

Catharine." Seduce! Is it me? me, is it your honour would seduce? Troth thin, yer a broth of a boy, and I'll be yer bonny Kate, and

Recorder. "Silence, woman! You are wilfully perverse." Catharine." Divil a bit of it, I'm Catharine Gafney." Recorder." Lock her up."

Catharine." What, on a 'Patrick's day in the morning!" " Recorder." Take her away."

Catharine commenced blubbering; in the middle of her tears breaking out into a plaintive song, and stretching her arms imploringly towards the magistrate, she breathed forth, in soultouching pathos,

"Though I leave thee now in sorrow;"

the exquiste words receiving new beauty from the melodious brogue of Catharine. She continued,

"We will meet again to-morrow."

"No we wont," said the magistrate. "Officer, lock her up for thirty days. We'll keep her sober for a month, at any rate." Poor Kate was led away to durance.

A PUBLIC PATRIOT.

OR, AN ACUTE ALLEGHANIAN.

THOMAS JEFFERSON WASHINGTON JONES was yesterday brought before the Recorder, on the charge of gathering a crowd and creating a disturbance the evening previous, at the corner of St. Charles and Gravier streets.

Mr. Thomas Jefferson Washington ones is a gentleman of a full habit but scanty wardrobe-plus of patriotism, but minus

of means.

A PUBLIC PATRIOT.

193

"In what manner did the prisoner gather a crowd?" said the Recorder, "or how create a disturbance ?"

"Why, he was cuttin' up all kinds of didoes," said the watchman-"a-talkin' about Annexation and Oregon, and all that, and cussin' the 'Istorical Society, I thinks he called it."

"I protest against any charge made by that individual being recorded against me," said the prisoner; "he has neither capacity to understand my position, nor patriotism to appreciate it."

"He is a municipal officer," said the Recorder, "and I am bound to receive his statement."

"Then if such be one of the streams through which justice flows," replied the prisoner-" if he be one of the conduits through which law is administered, justice necessarily needs filtering-law requires a less impure course. If it please you, however, let him proceed, and Heaven help the Republic, I say!" This appeal he accompanied by a reverential twist of his eyes upwards.

The Recorder told the watchman to go on and state the circumstances under which he arrested the prisoner.

He stated the same in substance as was written in the charge. The prisoner was haranguing a crowd about Texas, Oregon and Alleghania, and he knew not what. He told him to go on, but instead of complying, he abused him and went on with his speech.

"Fool!" exclaimed the prisoner, "what else should I do but abuse you? Praise of you would be censure in disguise, besides

"I shall not allow you, Mr. - what's-your-name," replied the Recorder, "to use such language to the watchman in my presence. If you have any thing to say in your defence, I shall hear it; preserve your vituperation for another placeyour invective for a more fitting opportunity."

"I thank you, most worthy judge," said the prisoner, "for the advice, and shall be guided by it: and now for my defence. But first of my name, which you seem to have forgotten, but which I thought was graven on the door-plate that openedthe door I mean, your honour, not the plate-to the inner chamber of every American heart. Who, sir-what American -can forget a name linked-by association of ideas, at leastwith the sage of Monticello and the hero of Mount Vernon; for both of whom History has erected her monuments-more solid than marble, and more enduring than brass! Now—”

"This is all very well, Mr. Thomas Jefferson Washington Jones, now remember your name,"—interrupted the Recorder; "but what has it to do with the watchman's charge ?”

"I was about to come to that, sir," said the prisoner, "but thought it necessary before doing so, to say so much in vindication of the honoured names I bear. And now, sir, for the charge. I was creating no disturbance; and if a crowd did gather round me, it was done of their own volition; if they did wrong, I cannot perceive by what rule of law or ethics I am to be visited with punishment for their transgressions. I was speaking somewhat loudly, it is true, but I am yet to learn that there is any Municipal ordinance instituting a voice-ometer, and making it penal to pitch the voice above a given standard. I was speaking, sir, of the wisdom and the policy of Annexation, and our right--our imprescriptible right--to Oregon; and he whom these subjects would not arouse and cause to speak loud at the present crisis, would suffer a man to take his julep from before him and drink it without remonstrance, nor would he cry 'stop thief!' if a fellow ran away with his last shirt. I touched too, sir, on the attempt made by a club of pedantic littérateurs to change-desecrate, I call it-the name of my beloved country, and is it to be wondered at that I felt indignant and spoke loudly? Take the name of the United States away, sir, and will not after ages be puzzled to know the land of my illustrious namesakes?—and then, to propose giving it such a name-Alle-Alleghania!-why it's a name fit only for a country inhabited by Turks! I would not, so help me

"That will do," said the Recorder. "I perceive, that although you did err, your motives render the act excusable. You may go, but in future find some more appropriate place for your lectures on Oregon, Annexation and Alleghania, than the sidewalk; for however much, in such a place, you impel the march of mind, you retard considerably the movement of the body."

Thomas Jefferson Washington Jones, regarding the watchman as mere human animalculæ, left the court impressed with the belief that his release was a decided triumph of mind over

matter.