England,' a work from which we have segregated some choice extracts, of which the following may serve as specimens:

'I HAVE read, and well I believe it, that a friend is in prosperitie a pleasure, a solace in adversitie, in griefe a comfort, in joy a merrie companion, at all times another I, in all places the express image of mine owne person; insomuch, that I cannot tell whether the immortal gods have bestowed any gift upon mortall man either more noble or more necessary than friendship. Can any treasure in this transitory pilgrimage be of more value than a friend, in whose bosome thou maist sleepe secure without feare, whom thou maist make partner of all thy secrets without suspicion of fraud, and partaker of all thy misfortunes without mistrust or fleeting?-who will account thy bale his bane, thy mishappe his misery, the pricking of thy finger the piercing of his heart?'

...

The following are from Love's Metamorphosis,' by the same author:

'THOU, CELIA, whome beautie made proud, shall have the fruite of beautie; that is, to fade whiles it is flourishing, and to blast before it is blowne. Thy face, as faire as the damaske rose, shall perish like the damaske rose; the canker shall eat thee in the bud, and everie little wind blowe thee from the stalke; and then shall men in the morning weare thee in their hats, and at night cast thee at their heels. Farewell, ladies, whose lives are subject to many mischieves; for if you be faire, it is hard to be chast; if chast, impossible to be safe; if you be young, you will quickly bend; if bend, you are suddenly broken; if you be foull, you shall seldom be flattered; if you be not flattered, you will ever be sorrowful. Beautie is a firme fickleness, youth a feeble staidnesse, deformitie a continuall sadnesse.'

THUS writes A constant Reader of the Knickerbocker' from Mobile, Alabama : several years since, when the congregation of the Protestant Episcopal Church in — was quite small, and possessed of but little means, they had succeeded, by subscription and otherwise, in building a small but very neat church. They were however unable to finish the interior. About the same time a young gentleman, who had just established himself in business in town, wishing to attend that church, rented a pew; and desiring also to assist a little in improving the looks of the interior, he directed a painter to paint the pulpit handsomely, and send the bill to him. A very worthy old gentleman, one of the vestry, who was not always very choice in his expressions, a few Sabbaths after the pulpit was finished, requested the rector to ask the pew-holders to remain after the congregation was dismissed. When the excepted portion of the audience had retired, the old gentleman arose and remarked that 'he hoped something would now be done toward finishing the church. Here is a young man,' said he,' who is almost a stranger in the town, and not a professor of religion, who has come forward, and without asking, and at his own expense, had our pulpit handsomely painted; and I think it a d — d shame that each pew-holder has not liberality enough at least to paint his own pew!' The effect of this brief speech was wonderful. The pews were all soon painted; nor will the speech that did it' soon be forgotten by any of the vestry or congregation. . . WE propose, by-and-by, to follow Mr. HENRY D. THOREAU down the Merrimack, even from Squam, Newfound Lake, Winnepisiogee, White-Mountains, SMITH's-and-BAKER'S, Mad Rivers, Nashua, Souhegan, Pitcataquoag, Suncook, Soncook, and Contoocook; but we have n't leisure for the jaunt just now. Meantime, let us commend 'A week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers,' for which we are indebted to the publishers, Messrs. JAMES MONROE AND COMPANY, to the attention of our readers. A METROPOLITAN correspondent

writes us : 'You are aware that on the trial of Bishop ONDERDONK before the House of Bishops, the right reverend gentlemen were quite divided in sentiment, and that some acerbity of feeling grew up among them. The presiding Bishop (CHASE) took a

very decided stand against the accused. To justify themselves to the world, the House directed the whole trial to be published; and to defray the expenses of the publication, a price was fixed upon the book. The sale was very great, insomuch that when the Bishops met again in general convention, four years afterward, it was found that there was a nett gain of some two or three hundred dollars from the sale of the book. When that fact was announced to the House of Bishops, the presiding Bishop asked what should be done with the money? One of the right reverend gentlemen, who had voted on the side of the accused, made answer to the inquiry of the President: Buy a potter's-field with it! There was no reply to the proposition. . . . MANY of your readers,' writes an old and esteemed contributor,' will doubtless recollect the improvisatore, JOHN C. MOSSIE, whose evening entertainments, several years ago, consisting of imitations of distinguished American orators, recitations, and improvisations, justly attracted in this city and elsewhere much attention. Little of his personal history is known. I believe he was born in England, and emigrated to this country at a very early age; where, after having been for some years a congressional reporter, he first became known to the public by the rare and astonishing facility of improvisation. Possessed of a naturally bright intellect, much improved by close study, he was nevertheless the unfortunate victim of a most pernicious habit, that of opium-eating, which shattered his constitution with such fatal celerity that at the age of seven-and-twenty his feeble health, together with his impoverished circumstances, forced him to apply for admission into the city alms-house, where he lingered for a brief period and died. It is a painful reflection that one every way so gifted should have yielded up his life within the walls of an alms-house, and that his body, unwatched in its descent by a single moistened eye, should have been lowered into the unhallowed grave of a pauper.' Mr. MoSSIE left behind him, in the hands of a friend, several pieces of verse, of more than ordinary merit. One of these, entitled 'Pietro Della Valle,' we have filed for insertion in a subsequent number. The annexed 'Lines upon the Tomb of Columbus at Havana' are from the same pen:

'THOU didst in triumph ride,

After a world was found by thee, through Spain,
With princes, knights and nobles by thy side,
While followed thee a treasure-bearing train-
The dusky warriors of the Western isles:
Say, did the people's shouts, the cheering smiles
Of beauty, or the praise and gifts of kings,
Atone for all thy woes and wanderings?

'No, mariner! not then
Wert thou rewarded for past agony,
But on the morn the island blessed thy ken,
Rising majestic from the emerald sea,
Thy recompense was given thee for all
Which had befallen thee, or could befall;
That moment was thine own, and overpaid
For years of sorrowing o'er success delayed.'

We were surveying lately with a friend the artistical and luxurious wonders of that most sumptuous of floating-palaces, the 'New World' Steamer, Captain Rowe, a craft quite too immense and too gorgeous to be hastily described, when a friend at our side, an able North-River pilot, said, 'What wonderful improvements have been made in steam-boats! I remember the time when there was no such thing as a pilot-house to protect the pilot from the weather. In fact, I know the origin of the first pilot house that was ever erected on an American steamer, and I'll tell you about it, if you have

Our friend Cap

Erie,' now

The next

time.' 'Jot it down for us,' we said, 'jot it down, and send it to us. tain MAYBE is beckoning us on board that most comfortable of steamers, the pawing impatiently, like a spirited horse, and we must be off up the river.' day we received the following memoranda from one who is well acquainted with Mr. STEVENS and Alderman SCHULTZ, and personally knowing to' the facts:

'DURING the severe winter of 1831, '32, the steam-boat Swan, on her passage from Amboy to New-York, encountered a violent north east snow-storm in Prince's Bay. The pilot could with the greatest difficulty make the Narrows, which he found jammed full of ice. The weather was intensely cold, and the 'Swan' labored for several hours to force her way through thickly imbedded fields of ice. The sufferings of the pilot, standing for so long a time on his elevated post, without the slightest covering or protection from the raging storm, were dreadful. Mr. ROBERT L. STEVENS, the owner of the boat, was on board, and expressed great solicitude for the pilot. Returning to the warm cabin, after one of his frequent visits to the pilot, his countenance beaming with pleasure, he informed the clerk of the boat, now Commodore SCHULTZ, that he had satisfied himself that a room could be built around the pilot's wheel that would effectually protect him from the sufferings he was now compelled to endure. He then gave instructions that a house, according to a plan which he drew with a pencil, should be immediately erected, with handsome windows in front: that was the first pilot-house. After that was completed, he also directed an engine-bell to be hung in the engine-room, with a wire leading to the pilot-house. Before this, the pilot had a large cane or stick, and when the engine was to be stopped or started, he would thump once; if to back, he would 'stomp' twice! It should be remembered that the boats in those days were not three or four hundred feet in length, but the wheel was nearly over the engine-room. The first state-room on the Hudson or the East River was put on the steam-boats Rochester' and 'Utica,' belonging to the People's Line. They were the first also that adopted the plan of charging for berths, a system that secured cleanliness in a measure, and an exemption from the company of sundry small cattle that often accompany people who have just landed from crowded emigrant ships.'

LADIES of Gotham, moved by a desire to do you good service, we 'respectfully beg leave to aunounce,' that Mr. JACOB LANSING, So long and favorably known as connected with the establishment of A. T. STEWART AND COMPANY, has opened a store for the sale of fancy laces, ribbous, embroidery, and all kindred articles, at Number 349, Broadway; where all who call may be assured of the best qualities and richest varieties of goods in the proprietor's line of trade, with such courteous attendance as will rob shopping' of half its disagreeable features. THERE are several good stories told of Judge B , one of the associate judges of D-county. He is remarkably deliberate and pompous in his style of conversation, wears a white cravat with a huge tie, a very high shirt-collar, and is altogether (as he thinks) a great man. Among other offices, the judge holds that of superintendent of one of the Sunday schools; and not long since startled his auditory by the following touching appeal : 'My dear children, you will remember that in a short time you must all die, and stand before a great Judge; yes, a far greater judge than the one who now addresses you!' Thus writes a correspondent in illustration of the character of a man whose counterpart we must 'show up' one of these days. Nous verrons. 'PUNCH' COMmends the following' Magyar Epic' to the attention of the Fonetic Nuz,' as worthy of an' exercise' in phonography. It is translated from the original of JANOSCHAZACZSKY:"

'AND now thy skin-clad warriors appear,
Blue lake Sketzsasik, fair Huschquschanear!
Where rolls the Pruth his crystal wave along,
And Choczin hears the patriot's gathering song:

Nor stony Schernetescht declines the war,

Nor Szohisk spares her sons, nor stern Sztroczhar,

Whom brave Tschatschakz from flat Rustschuckcha's plain,

Leads, bloody laurels under BEM to gain.

Serenely stern they laugh at Austrian claims,

Austria, that cannot e'en pronounce their names !'

OUR friend F. W. THOMAS, author of 'CLINTON BRADSHAW,' and other popular works, has nearly completed a novel, called James Russell, an Autobiography.' That it will be good, need not for a moment be doubted by any of our readers. It will be published in Cincinnati in October. WE know not whom to credit with the subjoined passage, but it evinces, to our perception, a thorough knowledge of the characteristics of a true gentleman:

'WE are apt to look upon good manners as a lighter sort of qualification, lying without the system of morality and Christian duty; which a man may possess or not possess, and yet be a very good man. But there is no foundation for such an opinion; the apostle PAUL has plainly comprehended it in his well-known description of CHARITY, which signifies the FRIENDSHIP OF CHRISTIANS, and is extended to so many cases, that no man can practise that virtue and be guilty of ill manners. Show me the man who in his conversation discovers no signs that he is PUFFED UP with pride; who never behaves himself UNSEEMLY, or with impropriety; who neither ENVIES nor censures; who is KIND and PATIENT toward his friends; who SEEKETH NOT HIS OWN, but considers others rather than himself, and gives them the preference; I say that man is not only all that we intend by a gentleman, but much more; he really is, what all artificial courtesy affects to be, a philanthropist, a friend to mankind; whose company will delight while it improves, and whose 'good' will rarely be 'evil spoken of.'

DEAN SWIFT'S will was a curious affair. To one friend he gave, among other things, his first-best hat,' to another his second-best,' to still another his 'third-best,' while his fourth-best' was coupled in the legacy with a 'stout cane.' The Dean had 'old hat' enough to establish a circumcised 'Ebrew Jew' in a flourishing trade. Here is another 'item:' 'I bequeath to Mr. JOHN GRATTAN, Prebendary of Clonmelthan, my silver box, in which the freedom of the city of Cork was presented to me; in which I desire the said JOHN to keep the tobacco he usually cheweth, called Pigtail.'... WE cannot do a better service to our town readers, in these sweltering days, than to indicate to them some of the pleasant haunts which are easily accessible from the metropolis. A beloved friend and correspondent thus depicts one of these, and the enjoyments to be compassed in the immediate neighborhood thereof:

'THE landscapes around Huntington, Long-Island, commanding a view of the Sound, are of unrivalled picturesqueness. It is a delicious place. Ye who are looking for a site to build your villas, ye men of taste, money and education, come hither! Your eyes will dance, your heart will leap with joy, at these eye-pictures. The undulating fields, carpeted with luxuriant green to the water's edge, the wooded promontories which extend into the Sound, and the many beautiful bays which indent the land, the blending of land and sky and water, are in such proportion and such manner as I have never seen equalled. Pleasant it is to dwell, as I do, within twenty yards of one of these beautiful bays, with a beach of the whitest pebbles; to hear the plash of every wave which beats, feeling as it were the pulse of the sea; and on a tranquil evening, just as the sun goes down, to see the tide roll in, filling the whole basin to the brim, and the white sails of a fleet of vessels gliding by like phantoms in the light of the full round moon. I love to sit upon the porch by night and hear the porpoises snorting in the brine, or even at the burning noon, when the tide has perhaps ebbed, to watch the sloops tumble over on their sides, like lazy swine in the mud. My dear C, to give you some idea of my 'hours of ease,' permit me to transcribe the JOURNAL OF A DAY:

It is the early part of June, eleven o'clock A. M. Tide full, breeze brisk, sky blue, blossoms intoxicating, air delicious. I sit in my room in the second story, shaded by ancient trees, reading, writing. On the table LAYARD'S 'Nineveh,' CLARK'S 'KNICKERBOCKER.' In a good humor. A prima-donna of a bee buzzing at the window; a prima-donna of a yellow-bird on the pear-tree; a prima-donna of a bobolink on a tall weed in the field. Windows all open and doors open. Exchange an occasional word with the agreeable ladies on the other side of the hall. 'Would their guitar disturb morning studies?' 'By no means; it would set the thick fancies a-going.' O, for that melodious measure, "'T were Vain to Tell l'—and the instrument being screwed up to concert pitch, I listen and read and think, then walk to the window and look upon the flashing of 'innumerable waves.' Then the fair R - brings up three gingernuts on a plate; fragrant, fresh, warm, spicy; just out of the oven; excessively toothsome.

-

.. The 'Dingy' lies at Walk in! Good

'To the Connec

(Oh! excellent dinner to be eaten at a hospitable board) what neglect of viands will be entailed by this cookery of the fair R—! One will I eat, but the other two abide their time.' Rash resolve; built up with too presumptuous a confidence of strength! anchor at the wharf, I hear the rustling of sails, and anon, tap! tap! tap! morning to your pleasant countenance !' 'Sail in the Sound?' 'How far?' ticut shores-town of Norwalk.' 'With utmost pleasure! When?' 'Right off.' 'Ay, ay.' Voice from without: 'BILL, if you do n't hurry down you'll be left: that's all there is about it!' Down we go, with a flagon of ' Doctor OTARD's prescription. The 'ELLA' dingy is a prime boat. Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart has tried, and roved in triumph o'er the heaving tide, what it is to get into such a craft! A wide berth for the knees, cushioned seats, carpeted floor, and all spán-new. Captain Post takes the helm, to steer her through the 'Gut.' Soon the breeze freshens, and we emerge at an exhilarating speed into the calm blue waters of the Long-Island Sound. Stretched at full length, with head uplifted upon an air-tight cushion, I enjoy the magnificent panorama. Here stretches out a wooded promontory, with an observatory on its utmost point; there a peak, surmounted by a light-house sugary white; there a low sand beach, strewn with rocks; then we glide into a pleasant cove, which the hills encircle with an affectionate arm, cast anchor, bathe on the white pebbly beach, clamber the hill into the pine-grove, and, very much anhungered, draw out a fragrant Virginia ham, red as a cherry, sweet, juicy; a pot of yellow butter, bread white and spongy, to say nothing of little pickles, and the prescription of the aforesaid OTARD. This, followed by a dessert of russet apples and other delicacies, suitable to a sea-voyage, completes the meal. We again embark: PALINURUS takes the helm. We launch into the deep. Some pleasant stories are told. 'BOB,' says BILL, 'CLARK gets off some good things in his Editor's Table.' That one of an ugly fellow who lost the prize of his ugliness by a kick from a horse, which improved his physiognomy, was first rate; and so was that one about the fellow out West who consented to stand a similar trial. A stuttering fellow bet heavily upon him, being cock-sure of his man. In the midst of this contention for the palm the ugly man began to distort his face by a variety of grimaces, which threw the stutterer into a paroxysm of uneasiness lest the prize should be jeoparded. Says he 'T-T-T-OM, y-y-y-you stay as the L-L-L-ORD M-m-m-made you: y-y-y-you can't be beat!'' 'BILL,' says BOB, 'that was a good one of a man who stopped at a tavern to pass the night. In the room were two beds; and when safely ensconced, and about to fall into a pleasant slumber, the landlord taps gently: 'What's the matter?' says the traveller. 'I wish to put a man in one of those beds.' 'Nobody can come here. Please put the bed in the bill,' says he. 'That won't answer the purpose,' said the host: 'I don't wish to put the bed into the bill; I want to put BILL into the bed!'' That's a pleasant, humorsome sort of a man, kind of, that lives on the hill,' says TIMMY, the boatman, now venturing to put in his oar. "'T other day he was to Northport, where he went and sot down onto the piazza. Bime-by he sees a feller a-sitting near, whom he know'd by reputation. Says the doctor to him, says he, 'Did you ever see a man round here named Jo ANNIS? I believe he lives in these parts.' 'Hey?' says the feller, a-prickin' up his ears. 'Do you know such a man?' 'Why?' says he. 'Because,' replied the other, 'they say that he wanted to marry a girl in our town; but she would n't have him, because he's a poor drunken devil. He's made love to a great many, and nobody won't have him. He's out at elbows, and out o' puss, and out o' character. More than that, they say he's such a liar that nobody believes a word he says!' 'It's a goy-blamed lie!' hollered out the innocent critter: 'I'm the individooal! It would-a' tickled you to see the little reöund dimple in the doctor's cheek while he was a-plaguin' that man! —and arterward he had to stroke him down, beside giv! him adwice about a ailment he had.' Thus, we 'sailed, as we sailed,' amidst pleasant converse. Some gentleman told too free jokes, saying that we were on the highway of nations, while the OTARD gurgled out to the usual cry of 'Say when.' And now, feeling a disposition to slumber sweetly, I lay back on the aforesaid cushion. The last sound which I remember was the pleasant rippling of water against the keel, and the last sight the circling shores of beautiful Connecticut, green to the very margin of the wave; the spires of her temples piercing the sky, while above the vast semi-circumference, where the sky and water met, there hung a diadem of white, fleecy clouds, like the knitted wings of legions of angels.'

WE pencil this subsection of gossipry in our note-book, prone upon a couch of interlacing branches, some twelve feet up a tree,' in a grove near Rockaway, on 'old