You've set me talking, Sir; I'm sorry; Do you know Another glass, and strong, to deaden He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he could, A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food, I'm better now; that glass was warming.- For supper and bed, or starve in the street. Not a very gay life to lead, you think? But soon we shall go where lodgings are free, And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink ;--- CARDINAL WOLSEY, ON BEING CAST OFF BY KING HENRY VIII.-Shakspeare. NAY, then, farewell, I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness; I haste now to my setting: I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, So farewell to the little good you bear me. This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard,—say, then, I taught thee,-- Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee,- Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's: then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king; And,-Prithee, lead me in: There, take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O, Cromwell, Cromwell! DEATH OF JOHN Q. ADAMS.-By I. E. Holmes. MR. SPEAKER: The mingled tones of sorrow, like the voice of many waters, have come unto us from a sister state -Massachusetts, weeping for her honored son. The state I G* have the honor in part to represent once endured, with yours, a common suffering, battled for a common cause, and rejoiced in a common triumph. Surely, then, it is meet, that in this the day of your affliction, we should mingle our griefs. When a great man falls, the nation mourns; when a patriarch is removed, the people weep. Ours, my associates, is no common bereavement. The chain which linked our hearts with the gifted spirits of former times has been suddenly snapped. The lips from which flowed those living and glorious truths that our fathers uttered are closed in death. Yes, my friends, Death has been among us! He has not entered the humble cottage of some unknown, ignoble peasant; he has knocked andibly at the palace of a nation! His footstep has been heard in the halls of state! He has cloven down his victim in the midst of the councils of a people. He has borne in triumph from among you the gravest, wisest, most reverend head. Ah! he has taken him as a trophy who was once chief over many statesmen, adorned with virtue, and learning, and truth; he has borne at his chariot wheels a renowned one of the earth. How often we have crowded into that aisle, and clustered around that now vacant desk, to listen to the counsels of wisdom as they fell from the lips of the venerable Sage, we can all remember, for it was but of yesterday. But what a change! How wondrous! how sudden! 'Tis like a vision of the night. That form which we beheld but a few days since is now cold in death! But the last Sabbath, and in this hall he worshipped with others. Now his spirit mingles with the noble army of martyrs and the just made perfect, in the eternal adoration of the living God. With him, "this is the end of earth." He sleeps the sleep that knows no waking. He is gone-and forever! The sun that ushers in the morn of that next holy day, while it gilds the lofty dome of the capitol, shall rest with soft and mellow light upon the consecrated spot beneath whose turf forever lies the PATRIOT FATHER and the PATHO SAGE. THE FIELD OF WATERLOO.-Byron. STOP! for thy tread is on an empire's dust; As the ground was before, thus let it be. How that red rain hath made the harvest grow! And Belgium's capital had gathered then The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men: Music arose, with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again; And all went merry as a marriage-bell. Bat hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knel!! Did ye not hear it? No; 'twas but the wind, On with the dance! let joy be unconfined! No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear And caught its tone with death's prophetic ear: Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning-star; While thronged the citizens, with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips, "The foe! they come! they come !" Last noon beheld them full of lusty life; The thunder-clouds close o'er it; which, when rent, JOSH BILLINGS ON COURTING. COURTING is a luxury, it is sallad, it is ise water, it is a beveridge, it is the pla spell ov the soul. The man who has never courted haz lived in vain: he haz bin a blind man amung landskapes and waterskapes; he has bin a deff man in the land oy hand orgins, and by the side ov murmuring canals. Courting iz like 2 little springs ov soft water that steal out from under a rock at the fut ov a mountain and run down the hill side by side singing and dansing and spatering each uther, eddying and frothing and kaskading, now hiding under bank, now full ov sun, and now full ov shadder, till bimeby tha jine and then tha go slow. I am in faver ov long courting; it gives the parties a chance to find out each uther's trump kards, it iz good exercise, and is jist as innersent as 2 merino lambs. Courting iz like strawberries and cream, wants tew be did slow, then yu git the flaver. I hav saw folks git ackquainted, fall in luv, git marrid, settel down and git tew wurk, in 3 weeks from date. This is jist the wa sum folks larn a trade, and akounts for the grate number ov almitey mean mechanicks we hav, and the poor jobs tha turn out. Perhaps it iz best i shud state sum good advise tew yung men, who are about tew court with a final view to matrimony, az it waz. In the fust plase, yung man, yu want tew git yure system awl rite, and then find a yung woman who iz willing tew be courted on the square. The nex thing is tew find out how old she is, which yu kan dew bi asking her and she will sa that she is 19 years old, and this yu will find won't be far from out of the wa. The nex best thing iz tew begin moderate; say onse every nite in the week for the fust six months, increasing the dose as the pasheint seems to require it. It is a fust rate wa tew court the girl's mother a leettle on the start, for there iz one thing a woman never despizes, and that iz, a leettle good courting. if it is dun strikly on the square. After the fust year yu will begin to be well ackquainted and will begin tew like the bizzness. Thare is one thing I alwus |