The Bangkok Recorder.

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Bangkok August 16th.

It appears that an incipient rebellion has really been quelled in this place. To what extent thi[s] had gone, and what proportions it had assumed is difficult to find out, as there is evidently a disposition on the part of those who know, to keep the matter quiet. There are also any amount of ru-

mours afloat among the natives, so that it is impossible to get any thing reliable. Some rumours also implicate many of the principle Siamese noblemen, and leading Chinamen of the place. It is certain however that a combination of Chinamen, but perhaps nothing more than a secret society, has been discovered which was assuming rather alarming proportions. They also evidently had in contemplation a strike of some kind as a number of badges &c. has been discover- ed, and are in the hands of the authorities. The leader of the concern has been disposed of in some way. The impression is sent abroad that he has been banished to China, but he has in all probability been banished in such a way, that there is no possibility of his ever returning to give any further trouble.

Since our last issue the mail by the French line has been receiv?ed here per Pontianak but we have not been able to find any later items of European news than those already published-

In the United States the result of the trial of the conspirators which has been absorbing the attention of the country, had not yet been published. Evidence suffi- cient to implicate Jeff Davis to some ex- tent in the conspiracy had been adduced.

A scheme has also been set afloat to pay off the national debt by subscriptions in shares of $10,000 each. The renowned James Gordon Bennet, Editor and proprie- tor of the New York Herald, claims to be the originator of the scheme, and has him- self subscribed four shares ($40,000). Some of the other papers however deny that Mr. Bennet is the originator of the plan, and quote from the Springfield (Mass.) Re- publican, showing that the scheme origi- nated with some of the merchant princes New York, some four months previous. Cornelius Vanderbilt has headed the list with $500,000. Bonner of the New York Ledger and G. W. Childs of the Phila- delphia Ledger give also each $40,000.

Arrangements are also being made by which men of small capital can also con- tribute. The affair once started must be carried right through before it becomes a drag. It is still however a matter of doubt if the whole amount can be raised, the na- tional debt is nearly $3,000,000,000, and the amount subscribed is not quite $2,000,000. Should the scheme succeed there has been nothing in the history of the world to equal it. Some of the lead- ing papers however object to paying off the debt speedily, either by subscription, or direct taxation. It is contended that the present system of taxation will liquidate the debt in twenty years, those objecting to the speedy liquidation of the debt say, that the next generation have a right to pay some of it, that the present generation have borne their share and as the next will reap the principle benefits of the war, they should also bear some of the burden.

New Canal.

It appears that the new canal to the su- gar districts of Nākawn-cheiséé has really been commenced. We believe it is the first great internal improvement undertaken in Siam wholly for the purpose of facili- tating trade. One or two other important canals how been dug during the present reign, but they appear to have been under- taken moro for the purpose of gratifying the lovers of pleasure than for the purpose of facilitating the interral trade of the country. It appears also, that the present year has been rather a hard one upon the royal treasury as well as upon the mer- chants. In consequence of a deficiency in the treasury the government has found it necessary, to devise other means to obtain funds for the completion of the canal just commenced. Two plans were suggested for that purpose. One was to grant the contractor the privilege of imposing for a certain length of time, say ten years, a tax upon boats passing through the canal. The only objection to this plan is that the petty officers in charge of such things are so accustomed to extort from the people, for the purpose of replenishing there own pockets and for which those imposed upon can seldom if ever obtain redress. The other plan was to pay the expenses by a gambling scheme of some kind. Consid- ering the propensities of the people for gambling it was to be feared that they would prefer this plan, but we are happy to learn that the former plan has been adopted. The work has been given by contract to Poh Yim, which will insure its more speedy completion than if done by government directly. If the work is pro- perly carried on it may be completed, at least, by the commencement of the next rainy season. It will also open up a great section of country which has hitherto been comparatively useless to any one for want of proper means of communication.

These internal improvements once com- menced, it is to be hoped they will be car- ried on to a considerable extent. The canals leading from here to Mahachei on the Tachin and thence to the Meklong need widening and deepening very much in some places. Especially is this the case at Ban Bon and Ma hon where the tides meet. During certain seasons of the years boats are often obliged to wait for days, and even weeks for a tide sufficient to carry them over the top of the hill. Often-times, too, besides the loss of time in waiting, the whole cargo is also spoiled, which is not very encouraging to traders. With a good dredging machine, (and we believe there is one coming,) it would re- quire but little expense to make those places passable at any time. If it can't be done otherwise, let it be done by taxing the boats. Of course the new canal now constructing will draw off some of the trade from these canals but they must still remain a great thoroughfare.

A canal is also needed to connect the Meklong with the Bankaboon river so that small boats from Petchaburee and other places might avoid crossing the gulf which is oftentimes dangerous. We learn that a private individual has offered to undertake the work upon the some plan of the Na- kawneicheé canal, but has received no response. The sooner government wakes up to the importance of these things the better.

Tuileries

The 20th of June was the forerunner of a much more terrific day the famous 10th of August. The interval between these two periods was marked by a succes- sion of minor events, indicating by their contradictory character the feverish and uneasy state of the body politic.

On the 9th July the two conflicting par- ties in the Assembly, the Constitutionalists and the Republicans, agreed in a moment of enthusiasm to forget their past differences, and embracing, swore for the future to labor together in harmony for the benefit of their common country. This reconciliation hardly lasted beyond the day on which it was pronounced. On the 11th the As- sembly declared the country in danger, and restored Petion, who had been suspended. from his functions as Mayor, by the depart- mental Directory of Paris, for his conduct on the occasion of the attack on the Tuileries. On the following day, the anniversary of the destruction of the Bastile, both he and the King appeared at the F?te in the Champ de Mars,—the one for the moment the triumph- ing idol, the other the already bound and all but sacrificed victim of that tyrannizing populace, whose insatiable appetite for blood was within a few months to destroy both. It is said that in one of the speeches Petion delivered on this occasion, the orator boldly invited his auditors to join him in swearing destruction to all Kings.

A circumstance which took place about this time led to a curious and characteristic display of the temper of the times. The garden of the Tuileries after being opened on the 8th was closed again in a few days; but on the 25th the Assembly decreed that the terrace des Tuileries, should be consid- ered as comprehended within the precincts of their Hall and hence accessible to the people. To prevent persons who might as- semble on this national ground from tres- passing upon the garden, which was divided from it only by a small low wall, with a flight of steps at one end, it was ordered that a tricolored ribbon should be suspend- ed among the trees around the bounderies of the terrace. No instance occurred of any one violating this barrier, so weak in itself and yet so strong in its appeal to the pride and patriotism of the people. But M. d'Epre- mesnil, who, although one of the most con- spicious popular favorites in the early days of the revolution, was now regarded as an aristocrat, having made his appearance on the Terrace, the rabble of armed Sans Cul- lottes fell upon and severely wounded him, and would have massacred him on the spot, had not some members of the Assembly come up on hearing his cries, and with much duifficulty rescued him from their hands. "Comme vous êtes à present J' étais aussi l'edol de ce gens ce," Even as you are now I also was the idol of the people, said Epremisnet to Petion who approached him as he lay bleeding and exhausted immediately after his escape.

On the 25th July a band of twelve hun- dred men arrived in Paris from Britany, and on the 30th five hundred more from Marseilles. The professed object of these strangers, afterwards generally known by the name of the Fédérés, was to aid the citizens of Paris in their contest with the Court. And in this they did good service. The Fédérés had in fact been invited to Paris by the Girondists, and to that party they continued to adhere during their stay, protecting them from the mob when they lost their short lived ascendency, as zeal- ously as they at first performed their part in the popular insurrection which was put in motion by their leaders. And their presence undoubtedly contributed in no small degree to embolden the friends of republicanism and to precipitate the overthrow of mon- archy.

On the 10th of August a mob of twelve thousand men and women, all armed and desperate, surrounded and partially in- vested the Tuileries where Louis and his family were lodged rather as prisoners than sovereigns. The Royal family escaped by taking refuge in the Assembly. A general massacre soon commenced which lasted for nearly four hours. To use the words of Barbareux who was present at the head of a band of Marseillais, "they slew in the rooms, on the roofs, and in the cellars the Swiss who were found either with or with ont arms, the chevalièrs and the valets." "Our devotedness " Says Madam Campan "could do nothing. We addressed oursel- ves to men and women who did not know us." The whole number of Swiss who per- ished on this day was 666, besides cheval- ièrs and domestiques who were also ruthlessly massacred. The fullest and most minutely particlular picture of this day is contain- ed in the narrative of a person belonging to the Bureau of one of the sections, which has been recently published for the first time by M. Dulaure in his " Exquises His- toriques."

"Scarcely," says this writer, "had we en- tered the l'Place du Carrousel when our eyes were met by strange and horrible sights. On our right lay many heaps each about twenty feet in height composed of dead bodies entirely naked. I saw a great num- ber lying on the terrace of the Palace al- ready stripped. The garden and adjacent court were crowded with spectators, of whom the greater number were women whose curiosity it was evident was at least equal to their modesty. The bodies of the National guard, of the citizens, and of the Fédérés, had been removed by their friends, only those of the Swiss guard lay exposed in this shocking manner. The narrative goes on to say "that the whole of the front of the Tuileries was bordered with naked dead bodies frightfully disfigured, so that they could not pass the staircases leading to the chapel and private apartments, as the pas- sages were filled with dead carcasses, and streams of blood still flowed from them on all sides." During the whole of this memora- ble day the Assembly had continued their sitting, the King and his family, who had taken refuge in the Legislative Assembly while the attack was going on at the Palace, occupied the seats reserved for the reporters. On that day it was ordered that all the royal statues in Paris and throughout France, should be thrown down, and in the capital, at least, the mob lost no time in carrying it into execution.

The Cradle of Treason.

Our first sight of Charleston was a dis- appointment. We did not expect to see such terrible desolation, and we wondered how the rebel newspapers could have kept back a knowledge of their sufferings.

One-third of the city, and perhaps the best third, is utterly destroyed. If New York city, extended only to Canal street, and a fire, three blocks wide, should burn its way from Fulton Ferry to the foot of Barclay street, it would be something like what has befallen Charleston.

Then, what is untouched by the fire is pierced and torn and shattered by our shells. Every second building, at least, is injured by them. The Mills House, an im- posing structure, resembling the Sherman House in Chicago, was hit eighteen times. We gathered some blooming white clover from the grass that grew thickly at its closed doorway.

The Charleston Hotel, the banks, the court house, Hibernian and Secession Halls, all bore the marks of Gillmore's stern com- pliments.

Nor did the churches fare much better —some of them, indeed, far worse! We counted five burnt churches, the Catholic cathedral, the finest in the South, and the Circular, among the number.

In the quaint old church of St. Michael's, built of materials brought from England long ago, and in the pretty little, aristo- cratic Huguenot church, which was filled with tablets to the memory of the Sassures, Porechers, and Gaussens, who fled to the Carolinas after the repeal of the Edict of Nantes, the work of destruction had been complete. It looked as if some of Crom- well's iconoclasts had been despoiling the temples of the Malignants

Shells had burst in these buildings and thieves had burst in after them, and seized the cushions, torn out the pew-linings, car- ried off reading-desk, communion-table, and church ornaments, and left not a vestige of the organs for our busy relic-hunters.

Mr. John Phillips, a lawyer, and one of the few respectable white inhabitants left, told us that, when the city was abandoned by the rebel troops, the rogues entered churches and houses, and carried off what they wanted; that the negroes had no hand in this plundering; that the newspapers, in telling us that the city was but slightly dam- aged by our shells, told us "infernal lies;" that, at first, no one believed Gillmore could throw a ball into the city—-a distance of six miles, and when the shells did come there was a great deal of terror. "It was said work for us," said Mr. Phillips, "but" -—with a grin smile-—"we heard it was great fun for your soldiers."

Of course many lives were lost. We heard of a brother and sister who were torn to pieces as they stood talking by their fire- side; and of fifteen negroes who were killed by the bursting of a single shell.

There are no white Union men in Charleston. "There was not a white man in the city that I dared to trust," said Rob- ert Small. There are some who call them- selves loyal, but such loyalty would be a Copperhead's delight in Brooklyn.

Of this latter class is Governor Aiken, a complaining, dissatisfied old gentleman, vexed at the Proclamation of Emancipa- tion, vexed at the loss of his wine and the plunder of his plate by Sherman's "Bum- mers," and altogether a lone, lorn creet- tur— like Mrs. Gummidge.

The poor whites with whom we talked are bitter rebels and did not think their cause yet lost, although they willingly sold us fifty dollars in Confederate money for a dollar greenback.

A beautiful girl, scarce fifteen years old, came out to unfasten a garden-gate for us, and was very graciously trying to do so when her mother appeared and said, with a haughty air that could not brook our pres- ence, "Come away, child." This was the only fine lady rebel visible to us during our stay in Charleston.

We asked Robert Small where'd all the grand dames—-the wives and daughters of the leading men, were. "I hope they are all in their graves," was his savage answer.

There were many glad faces in the city, but they were all black ones. The negroes were in a strange state of delight; they danced for us, they sung for us, they brought us flowers in profusion, and refused our proffered money—-"No; you have done enough for us already; I spoke of Lee's surrender to an old negro woman, the sole occupant of a marble mansion. She did not understand its full meaning, but felt it must be something good, and so lifted her hands and shouted: "Mighty King!"

Fort Sumer is much larger than we expected. At the flag-raising there were about four thousand people in the space in- closed by its battered ramparts, and yet it was not more than half-filled. Sumter, with all its bruising and pounding, is still impregnable. Five hundred men, with communication open to Charleston, could hold it against all comers.

An attacking force would have to disem- bark at the base of a hill of crumbling brick, broken shells, and loose sand, against which the sea beats; then climb a chain- fence at the very edge of the water, and, before the top of this hill could be gained, two rows of sharpened wooden stakes, firm- ly imbedded in the earth and pointing out- ward, must also be surmounted. It did not seem as if this could be done in the face of a determined enemy; our boys tried it once, and failed.

As the hour passed for opening the cere- monies we heard them ask impatiently, "Where's Beecher?" " Where's Beecher?" At length some one shouted, "There he is in the white hat." We looked, and lo! the great expected came looming over the top of the parapet, in full view of the crowd below, and descended to the center of the fort amid great cheering. He was the fa- vorite by all odds; the best-loved man in Sumter that day.

Magnolia Cemetery, two miles from the city, is a somber, mossy place, sadly neglected, except one little spot where rests the wife of an English sailor, who has created a monument to her memory which is perfectly unique. It is like a very elegant doll's house, or a confection- er's model of a mausoleum. There is a miniature ship chained to a capstan, on which is written in gold letters, "The Promise, June, 1822." Then a pair of scales, evenly balanced, and hanging from the cen- ter of a triumphal arch, holds his heart in one scale, hers in the other. There are two lace handkerchiefs, with the words on glass, "I had your first and last dear kiss." There are turtle-doves, and love-mottos, and mo- sale and shell-work; then another little ship, then an American flag and a British union jack, then a plaster cast of a little boy, then ever-so-many other things, and at last a head-stone with this epitaph:

To say what. Say what

A wife should be,

And that she was."

All this is protected by a gilt and gayly- colored roof, and the whole affair might be covered by a good sized table-cloth. Through the kindness of General Hatch and Captain Hunt, all the ambulances, old stage-coaches, one-horse shays, rheumatic buggies, bony Rosinantes, and architectural steeds in the place were impressed for our use. They were the best the city afforded; what more could we ask? One of our par- ty, a grave and reverend seignior, but un-

used to these chariots of the sun, confiscated a horse and buggy for his own sole use, and drove, not through Charleston, as he cer- tainly intended, but straight into the dock —a depth of over twenty feet. The buggy was lost for ever; the horse, after immense labor, managed to come up swimming, and escaped out alive. The company on the Oce- anus came away loaded with relics. We had stiff leather-bound books from the locked City Library, amn?tes leaves from Calhoun's game and Hemminger's resi- dence, papers from the banks, records from the court house, gilded cherubs' heads from the churches, muskets from the slave- marts, soldier's breast plates and epaulets, and a new, newly-finished rebel flag, which was presented to the Sumter Club by its finder.

We found letters dated July and August, 1861, from the Bank of Liverpool to the Bank of Charleston, "under cover to the Bank of the State of New York," which ex- plains how some rebels found means to communicate with their friends in England.

The slave-mart were easily discovered; and very airy, convenient shambles they were; but the little den in which the crea- tures were penned till brought out for sale were dark, filthy, and horrible. And the darkest and filthiest of all was a row of cells, on an upper floor; where the negroes were placed? the most crazy at being parted from their children. Over the door of one of these prisons was the sign, "Clinkscales and Boozer. Auctioneers" Phoebus! what a name, Well, they will clink no more the dollar that has blood upon it, and boo? no longer on the money that made mad a slave mother.

Just before we left the city we stood at the corner of the battery, and looking across the harbor, saw the old flag over Sumter again, and traced its crimson strip- es on the eastern sky. It meant more than ever before, and we loved it more than ever, for it had been insuled for our sakes, and we had suffered with it. And when we turned and saw the ruined city—-saw its silent homes and desolate hearth-stones, the wild grass in its streets, and the un- pruned rose tree choke its door-ways—-we thought of the words, "They that take the sword shall perish with the sword;" and we felt something of the pity which filled the bosom of the Master as, bending long ago above another rebellious place, " he beheld the city and wept over it.

The Brothers Leinhardt.

On the borders of a pretty Swedish lake lies the village of Lundakolping. Lake and village are each so tiny I doubt if you would deem them worthy of the name; but the lake, pure, deep, and cool, is the prettiest and clearest of all lakes. The old forest trees (clustering to the very brink, till the long grey moos from their branches trails in the quiet water,) wrestle around it a rich emerald garland, and numberless fishes peep in its calm depth. The huge moun- tain, sheltering it from boisterous winds, casts its regal shadow on the mirroring surface, and down its steep sides, dashing and foaming down, down from the far region where the untrodden snow lies under an ever-cloudless sky, dashes a mountain brooklet, bearing to the lake in tribute of impetuous waters; and the lake, taking the sparkling treasure to its deep bosom, sends it forth in a foam-tipped stream, winding quietly away through the village to gladden the hearts of weary-footed housewives. On either side of the public road clusters the village, with its quaint little houses of squar- ed pine logs, painted a dull red, and cov- ered with mossy thatch. The grey old church stands just at the mountain's foot, and many an old legend and strange story will they tell you as you biter in the sombre twilight of its low, massive arches. In the grassy churchyard round where, year after year, year after year, for, oh! so long, sire and son have lain down side by side, sleep- ing the same dreamless sleep, is shown a spot where rest, they say, the ashes of a grim old sea king, who spent his lifetime plowing the stormy seas, seething, with right mighty eddies.... whatever his hair desti- ed, and reaching even the green slopes of Vineland in his wild roamings. "He wan- dered east, he wandered west, till, weary of his wanderings, he returned to his old boyhood's haunts and sleeps beneath the turf his childish feet had pressed. Ah! poor old sea king; another king, earl in royal purple, sitting on his Hon-sarnished throne of gold and ivory, the wisest, the rich- est, the most powerful of the earth, had published the sad truth long, long before You : "The eye is not satisfied with see- ing, nor the ear with hearing." I doubt if it were ever even in his day; I fear Tubal Cain read it in the glare of his molten metals, and that the "longing for what is not" min- gled its waiting voice with the harping of Jabal.

Peace be with you, weary old Viking: perchance to Him, all seeing as all holy, the crimes of Blood and violence scream not with deeper crimson than our dastard sins, which scarce call forth a sigh of penitence, or tinge our cheeks with shame. God pity us!

A sabbath stillness reigns around this little village, broken only by the laugh of shout of children, the voices of women talking to their neighbors, or the ringing of the ax on the sturdy mountain pine; and at evening, echoed and re-echoed by the deep gorges, are heard the plaintive call of the milkmaids and the lowing of the quiet herds. In this sequestered nook life flows on in a calm, unruffled current. A stranger gazing on the tranquil scene, beholding everywhere hale health and peace and plen- ty, would exclaim: "Surely, here, if any where on earth, must dwell pure innocence and happiness. Ah! me! the Devil is a woolgrown weight, and manages to keep his mental upon a good horse with all his brustle. Though he doubtless holds his high court in great cities, and finds in potent oppor- tunity a fruitful aid; yet there's not on all this great round world a spot so tiny or remote that he'll neglect it, if inhabited by man. Traces of his nimble fingers show themselves even here, in this lonely moun- tain village, and in and aOows beside the office of the holy man, whose voice from week to week awakes the echoes of that quaint old church, no empty sinecure.

At some distance from this village, there stood, many years ago, a little brown house, weather-beaten and old, but strong and sturdy. A gaily heritage of sunny mea- dow lands and fertile fields stretched out on every side, and huge, substantial barns, that scarce could hold the teeming harvests, clustered round the little brown house, mak- ing its dwarfed proportions seem yet more pigmy. Large flocks grazed in the pasture, and the air was filled with the lowing of cattle, the cackle of poultry, and all the sounds that tell of rural abundance. Here, without wife or child, dwelt Hans Ander- sen, the richest man in the villiage around. Many times and oft, the simple folks would gaze upon his hem, broad fields, and burning barns, and sigh, "If I were rich Hans Andersen," hopelessly and long- ingly, as we would say, "as rich as Roths- child."

Perhaps none thought this half so often. or so earnestly as Franz Leihnalt, who lived in a cot on the mountain side, from which he could view his neighbor's smiling fields. He and his brother, many years his junior, followed the calling of wood- cutters in the neighboring forest. No soon- er had the first pale heralds of the day appeared, chasing the shadows to their lurking places, than their steady strokes resonated through the forest: and not till the sun was hid and deep gloom gathered among the trees, did they wend their weary way homeward. Few merry-makings could boast Franz's presence; but when he did appear, at bridal or at Christmas feast he sat with the old men, listening to their wisdom, and mingled not with the bols- terous rout of younger revelers. To wo- man's charms he seemed impervious. No female glance, were it sly or artless, bright or tender, could bring a glow to his swart cheek, or quicken a pulse of his coldheart. Tis needless to say, that while gravenhends of families praised him, saying, "Twould be a lucky girl who got so saving and in- dustrious husband," he was no favorite with the bright-eyed Swedish maidens, on whose ruby lips he was "Old Franz Lein ardt"

while his cheek was yet decked with the silken down of early manhood; butt, alas! Franz cared as little for their frown or favor as for the linnets that his ringing axscared from their accentomed perch. Gold was the idol of his worship. Even in the little world in which he lived he saw that poverty was a reproach no virtue or sense could quite wipe away, and that wealth conferred a dignity that mere good qualities could not command. What wonder, then, that he longed to close his grasp on the weird necromancer that can make men bow hum- bly down, calling deformity beauty, vice virtue, futility intelligence. Fifty times a day the eager, envious wish, " If I were as rich as Hans Andersen," swelled his heart or found utterance at his lips. He knew the wish was wild, and unattainable as the cry of a babe for a star. Working from earliest dawn to latest twilight, spending but what a bare necessity required, he needs must know, count as he would, that a patriarch's life would not suffice to gain wealth at that poor, plodding rate; but he thirsted for gain, and laid coin to coin. The demons Envy and Love of Gold, which he strove not against, hardened his heart and held it closely barred, lest Pity, Love, or Joy, should enter; and as the years rol- led on, his life grew barren of kind words or generous deeds, and in his eyes misfor- tune seemed a crime. Yet he was sober, and industrious; none went more regularly to the church or tent with deeper reverence in prayer, and this he deemed religion, forgetting, as to many of us do, that He prayeth well who loveth well both man, and liveth and hears.

His brother Flemming, handsome, gen- erous, and good natured, with a ready laugh and readier jest, was of a very different spirit; and wherever fun, or good fellow- ship, brought the neighbors together, there was Flemming. Envy was unknown to him. Little cared he how much the heavy- headed harvests of Hans Andersen's fields waved their golden treasures before his eyes, so long as Christina's ringlets of brighter gold shone in the sunlight or were tossed against his cheek by wanton breeze. Hans Andersen's herds might have loved them- selves hoarse without winning a thought, when, with her hand in his, they skimmed over the frozen lake, the rattle of the skates and the voice of the skaters making merry music under the laughing stars, while the bright Aurora painted the dark vault of heaven and red and crimson till the snow- clad earth grew rosy. Perhaps as they gathered [???] in the sombre forest to strew upon the floors, and Christina stood hold- ing her arms to receive the fragrant tips, her innocent eyes cast upwards, pure and blue as dew-moistened field flowers, he may have wished for wealth to deck her with a crimson bodice and silken kirtle, and put a ring of gold upon her dimpled hand; but avarice had no place in his heart. A pen- iless orphan was the fair haired Christina, and maid of the village inn; but when the weary working day was over, and Flem- ming received from her hands, his mug of homebrewed ale and oaten cake, what prince so blest! Love breathed upon them; the humble cot become an elysium, and each with ecstasy ruled supreme over that boundless empire—a loving heart. Why are ye so fleeting, oh happy days of warm young love! when a look or word has power to swell the heart with joy unspeak- able, and tinge life's weary, rugged road with all Hope's rainbow tints! It is need- less to say that Franz looked on this wooing with no favoring eyes, and when in the course of time the young people changed courtship's fairy-land for the sober realities of matrimony, he heaped many bitter, ang- ry reproaches on his brother. Forgetting that He who said "Thou shalt not steal," said also, "He that loveth not his brother abideth in death." Franz thought himself blameless because he made a just division of his hoarded gains, though he robbed the young couple of what God had made their due—a brother's love and sympathy; and Flemming, his heart wounded and estranged, went with his bride to the neigh- boring city to push his fortunes mid its crowd and bustle.

General Robert

General Robert Edmund Lee is the son of Gen. Henry Lee, of Revolutionary mem- ory, and known as "Light Horse Harry," whose mother was the beautiful Miss Grim- es, General Washington's first love, and whom he celebrated as the "lowland beauty." General Harry Lee was twice married. By the first marriage he had two children, (Henry, an officer in the war of 1812,) and Lucy. By the second wife—-a Miss Carter, of Shirley-—he had five child- ren, two daughters, Anne and Mildred, and three sons. The sons were Charles Carter Robert Edmund, (the general,) and Sidney Smith, the last-named officer in our navy, now in the rebel navy.

General Robert E. Lee was born in 1807. and is, consequently, fifty-seven years of age. He graduated second in his class, in 1822 (Judge Chalres Mason, of his city, and formerly Commissioner of Patents, standing first in that class,) and was assign- ed to the Engineer Corps as second lieuten- ant; in 1835 Assistant Astronomer, fix- ing the boundary between the States of Ohio and Michigan; in 1836 he was chief engin- er under Scott, in Mexico, and greatly distinguished, being promoted successively, by merit, major, lieutenant colonel and colonel; for his gallantry; in 1852 super- intendent Military Academy; in 1855 transferred as lieutenant colonel of the new regiment of cavalry; March 16th, 1861, promoted colonel of the First cavalry; re- signed April 25th following, and reluct- antly embarked in the rebellion.

The following are the children of Gen- eral Lee: GEORGE WASHINGTON CUSTIS LEE, about thirty-three years of age; MARY CUSTIS LEE, about thirty; WILLIAM FITZ- HUGH LEE, about twenty-seven; ANNIE LEE, died at Berkeley Springs in 1863, and would have been now about twenty-five; AGNES LEE, about twenty-three; ROBERT E. LEE, about twenty; MILDRED LEE, about eighteen. None of them have married ex- cept WILLIAM HENRY FITZHUGH, whose wife, MRS. CHARLOTT WICKHAM, died at Richmond in 1868. The eldest son, GEOR- GE, graduated at the head of his class, at West Point, in 1854, and was a first lieu- tenant in the corps of engineers when he fol- lowed his father into the Southern service. WILLIAM HENRY was farming upon the White House estate, which belonged to the Custis inheritance, when it was opened. He was commissioned second lieutenant in the 6th infantry in 1857, but resigned in 1859. ROBERT was at a military school in Virginia. The sons, it is well known, are all officers in the rebellion. The three surviving daughters are with their mother, who it is believed, has latterly been at Lynchburg.

Mr. CUSTIS, at the time of his death, owned some two hundred slaves, who, by his will, were to be free at the termination of five years from his death, which period expired October 10th, 1862. The most of these slaves were kept on the White House estate, and the valuable portion were retained South; some twenty or more old- men and women and children were left at Arlington. Mr. Curtis' mother owned the White House estate, and resided there when she became the wife of General Washing- tion.

Death.

On the 1st. inst. at 3.20 p. m. Mr. Charles G. Allen aged about 37 years.

Mr. A. was a native of Andover, Mass. U. S. of America, and had been in Siam for about 7 years.

Items.

A combination of Chiuannam has been discovered which had formed some design against the government. A number of muskets, pikes, badges &c. were also dis- covered. Rumour says the combination amounted in number to about three thou- sand. The leader was a pretty officer under the government, and a Hokien Chinaman. He, it appears acknowledged his design, and has been banished the country. Some reports say he was disposed of by dumping him into the gulf, but it appears upon re- liable authority that he was placed on board of the Siamese Barque Castle bound

for Hong Kong, with the injunction that if he returned his head would pay the pe- nalty.

The Steamer Chow Phya is expected to leave Singapore for this port, about the 20th mst.

It is reported that the Siamese Barque Goldfinder, Capt. de Castro, has been lost, two days out from Hongkong, and all on board except one person, perished.

By private letters from Petchaburee we learn that the prospects for the next crop in that province still continues fair. Af- ter a short season of drought any fears that may have existed have been removed by the copious rains which have fallen.

We are informed that the persons found guilty of counterfeiting ots a few weeks since, have been released by paying a fine of less than one thousand Ticals. Report says that they were treated thus leniently because their counterfeit money is so im- perfect an imitation as to be little likely to pass for the genuine coin, and that there was so little of it made as to be of no es- sential damage to the public.

Garden Rambles in Siam.

The following article was written not long since, by a person who spent a short time in Siam. The article may be taken as a specimen of a book preparing on Siam by the same person.

In a climate so hot and humid as that of Siam, (mean annual temperature, eighty- three degrees Fahrenheit,) vegetable life rejoices in perennial and surpassing luxur- iance, variety and beauty. Unvisited by fell frost, key blast, or arid wind, garden and field and wood are clad in living verdure. Toward the end of the dry season indeed, the leaves wear a tinge of brown and the grasses of straw, but a few showers, and all are fresh and green again. The change of leafage is a little perceptible, the dying of the old and the budding of the new on most trees being simultaneous. Leaf, flow- er and fruit together, and such wondrous variety and exuberance! Every where na- ture is prodigal, on mountain peak and valley-bottom, in frequented street and by river side, every where she spreads her gifts. If earth be too narrow, she goes up and decks the house-top and wall with shrub and vine; she climbs the trees, loading root, trunk and branch with epidendra and par- asites, and leaps from top to top, festooning and sreading still forest depths with vines, leaves and blossoms; she hangs in air the orchard's 'outlandish roads and marvellous flowers;' she goes into the streams and in- vades their muddy beds with filibustering atap or mangrove; and upon the ponds, covering their calm waters with cress, lily and lotus; while down beneath the gulf she lays out vast parterres of curious sea-plants. The broad, alluvial river-valleys, and most mountainous regions are densely covered with huge and lofty trees, and in many parts with a heavy, tangled, impenetrable undergrowth. The districts under cultiva- tion are of wonderful fertility, manifold rewarding the rude and indolent labors of the husbandman. Bangkok, the capital seems dropped down amid a great forest of fruit-trees, shade-trees and vines. The ex- tended fields trenched, ridged and planted, the orchards and vineyards of other lands, are here named 'Gardens.'

On the margin of the river-bank, which loving hearts called 'Garden Reach,' thickly screening from the too inquisitive grass of the many passing boats, the old bamboo house, which the same loving hearts called 'Home,' grew the cocos nucifera. It is the clink of the Sinese, the—atap (from the Malay word for thatch) of the European. A single stalk rising from the mud and tide to the height of eight or ten feet, with long dark green leaves, close set, like the lam- ing of a feather, it is one of the humblest and yet most useful of the palms. The leaves separated from the common stalk, doubled and strung together by woman and children on bamboo splits, in pieces two feet wide and one and a half long, form the waterproof roofing and siding of the bamboo houses. Resembling in color, when dry, corn leaves, costing six dollars per thousand, and lasting three or four years, they're a cheap and not unhandsome housing. A few steps, and we stand by the 'light, feathery, tree-like grass,' of which the wondering historians of Alexander's conquests first told the ancient West. How gracefully, beautifully, the bamboo, with slender stalk and bright green spray sways, to-and-fro with every passing breeze! Does it not remind you of the weeping willow in the farther West? This species grows in clumps or clusters (of fifteen or twenty stems) often ten or twelve feet in circum- ference and from thirty to fifty in height. From large, tough, inter-grown roots spring the smooth, hard, hollow, long and many- jointed stalks, which at ten feet begin to jut out the branches armed with sharp, thick thorns, and adorned with leaves two or three inches wide and ten or twelve long. There are several other species, some of greater size and use. What a blessing al- most necessity, the bamboo is to the tropic inhabitant! It forms, with the chak or atap, three-fourths of the Siamese houses, frame, joists, rafters, cave-throughs, floors, foundation, (of floating-house,) fences and all. With it they go forth to bear their burdens, handle their tools, water level their walls, pole their boats, yard their sails, cable their junks. With it, hardened by fire, they spear fish and foem an through it blow the poisoned arrow. With it they at home again kindle by friction the extinguished fire, and castigate the trunks of negligent youngster. With its sweet tender shoots they relish their rice and fish; from it im- bibe the sparkling river or canal. With it, cut in to small bits, they make not-jack ots moro old than useful. With it accor- gan or flute, they beguile the closing day, and labor and pastime done. But who can recal the more than fourscore enumerated user and beauties, of the bamboo?

That is a singular palm: the rattan, which furnishes writes for the bamboo and atap, for thongs, cordage, cables and many other purposes. Its application in the moral improvement of criminals is not infrequent, and is more painful but less ignominious than 'bamboozing'. Its power to enhance female bear? however, un- familiar to the Siamese fair, though some- times subject to Parisian rubes on gala- days at the Royal Palace. The purple juice of one species enters into the com- pound, 'Dragon's Blood' of the apothecar- ies. Another, with its long, sharp thorns, makes an impassable height. Another, in its native forests, creeping among the thick underbrush, tangles and toils all into im- penetrable barriers, or coiling its stem, two or three inches thick, around and up the giant trunks, with leaf and flower-cover- ed fetters, binds bough to bough and tree to tree for hundreds of feet. Rumphius mentions those extending twelve to eighteen hundred feet, or one fifth to one third of a mile from the root. But these little stems swinging from the high branches and rootsing in the wet trenches at our feet, are not the rattan nor the banian. They are a rather ivy-like vine, which will ere long ungrate- fully cause the tree kindly supporting them to droop and die. The banana or plantain, with its soft green stalk, six or seven inches thick—which a rattan could cut to the ground—leaping like a mushroom ten or eleven feet high; its great green leaves, of- ten two feet broad and ten long, finely arched, and gently swaying in the breeze, or spangled with the rain-drops: its long spike from the very top bending with en- circling rows of green or yellow fruit, and terminating in a large purple flower, is it not a thing of beauty? To the native it is indeed a joy forever, with its other-in-season fruit, several dozen in number, three to three inches in length, three-fourths to two in- ches in diameter, all sweet, acid, subacid, mealy or juicy, according to the one of the thirty or forty varieties. From the tree every day of the year, or in pastry or fritters, or dried in sugar, it is the pleasant, healthful and nutritious food of the young child and the old man, the sick and well at home and abroad. According to Humboldt, they would in a year produce forty-four hundred and ten pounds of ripe plantains. From the leaf are made dishes, the covering of cigars, etc.; from the fibre, wrapping-twine. From the folds of the stalks are carved some of the finest decorations of festal halls and funerals. Hope too, the palm-lifts its majestic head, plumed with a dozen or more leaves, as many feet long and two or three broad, starred with light-yellow flowers, and laden with scores of green and golden nuts. It is not a strange conceit that the name cocoæ is derived from the Portuguese (macaco or macaco) for monkey, on account of the resemblance which the nut, with its three embryo holes (one ger- minuative) bears to that animal's facing. As you look wistfully up, in a twinkle the boy, with cleaver in hand, his waist-cloth, with bare feet and hands clasping the nity trunk, is literally walking up the rings or grooves whence leaves have fallen, up, up, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty feet. Stand from under, and down pump the nuts in the soft earth. Down comes the boy—a cleaver stroke— and the bronze Ganymede hands you the opened goblet whence you may quaff nec- tar the gods might have envied. Another stroke, and your gablet is in hemispheres and a nice white blue mange is dished before you. The congealed and hardened cream of the elder nut is a prime ingredient of curries. The meat of the yet older is sun-dried, pulverized, and then subjected to a process similar to tea and sugar-packing and wine-pressing. The natives express from it, through a perforated tub, with their pedal extremities, an oil very pure, and so attractive to their taste, that our lamps of ten snuffed behind their erect. From the husk half-rotted in water, beaten on stones and dried, is made the filling of cu- shions and beds, from which might also be made the very best 'coir' cordage.

The lan-palm, tapped beneath the flower- aloot, gives daily a gallon or two of sweet maple-like sap. This rather pleasant drink on the third day ferments into the intoxi- cating toddy. Boiled, it yields a brown, thick, ungranulated sugar, very excellent, which is sold in small earthen jars, very cheap. The leaves of the tailpot tree lam- palm, cut into strips two inches wide and twenty long, and rendered smooth and pli- able by water and friction, form the leaves of the smerged hooks. The area is one of the noblest of the noble family. Planted in rows eight feet apart, the smooth, slen- der trunk rises like a column, straight, leaf- less and branchless forty to fifty feet, with long, pinnate, gracefully-curving, bright green leaves, feathery plume of staminate flowers, and hanging clusters of hundreds of dark green or reddish orange nuts. A step across the trench and the narrow strip of weeds and bushes, the only (but usual native) boundaries, into the grounds of our neighbor, and we shall find yet another beautiful sight. It is a field of the plant whose leaf's always used with the areca- nut. For a moment you might easily im- agine yourself in one of the well-kept hop- yards of Central New-York. But it is the seri or betel pepper (cousin to black and red) vine, which, with light green leaves, is twining up the poles set in rows between the trenches, traversing at intervals of six or eight feet the whole field. With what fast- idious neatness is every weed and blade of grass kept out; how thoroughly softened and mellow the soil; how carefully watered day by day from the trenches each plant! Your off-spirations recall a down-shore Long- Island farm in fish-time. Hard by, in large earthen jars buried in the ground, are rot- ing quantities of fish, and from these scul- ptures life is sprinkled every day or two on the vines. You will stop to admire the rapidity with which the girls are sorting and packing, in regular number and circle, the leaves for market. The master oversee- ing, with the accustomed courtesy of the host, orders the betel or scri-leaf tray to be passed to you. But you are ignorant as to its use, and he politely takes from one dish, the hot peppery leaf, plasters it with lime, tinged a pretty pink by turmeric, quarters with iron shears a hard, astringent areca- nut, adds finecut tobacco, rolls all together, and presents it. Or with extra politeness, if you, through age have lost some teeth, he in a small brass cylinder, with an iron punch, combines this delectable mixture. The pleasure which you decline is one to which the Siamese, high and low, male and female, young and old, are exceedingly addicted. No man of wealth but has in his retinue one who bears the "betel-nut" set, with its rich vessels of gold and silver. He or she of the single wrist-cloth infolds with in it the nut and leaf, sometimes carrying the latter rolled over the ear. The mouth oozing blood-like saliva, and the teeth black- ened by burnt cocoa-shell to prevent cor- rosion by lime! add nothing, contrary to their opinion, to the beauty, not naturally excessive, of the people. The defiling stains and debris are seen in hut and boat, palace and temple. Universally used in the East, the betel is mildly stimulating, slightly narcotic, and ultimately tonic to the inha- bitants of these hot, moist countries. Yet another plant of Siam, or rather its Malayan dependencies, is the sago from whose del- icate pith is chiefly made the flour so much esteemed, especially by invalids.

Marvels of Memory.

Some examples of the feats of memory would be rejected as altogether fabulous had they not been given us on authority of the highest respectability. It is related of Themistocles that he could call by their names every citizen of Athens, though they amounted to twenty thousand. Cyrus knew the name of every soldier in his army.

Mithridates, King of Pontus, knew each one of his eighty thousand soldiers by his right name. Hugo Grotius, on being present at a review of some regiments in France, re- called all the names of the single soldiers in the order of the roll-call. Scipio knew all the inhabitants of Rome. Seneca could re- peat in order two thousand words heard only once. Cook, the tragedian, is said to have committed to memory the entire contents of a large daily newspaper. Lord Granville could repeat from beginning to end the New Testament in the original Greek. George III. is said never to have forgotten the face he had once seen, or the name he had once heard. Racine knew by memory all the tragedies of Euripides. Justus Lipsius ven- tured to rehearse the works of Tacitus from the first word, to the last, and then from the last to the first, even when a man was stand- ing before him with a drawn dagger to pierce him the very moment he should fail to give a single word. Bottegella knew by heart whole books, verbatim. Mirandola need to commit the contents of a book to memory after reading it thrice, and could then not only repeat the words forward, but backward also. Thomas Cranwell in three months committed to memory, when in Italy, an entire translation of the Bible as made by Erasmus. Leibnitz knew all the old Greek and Latin poets by heart, and could recite the whole of Virgil, word for word, when an old man. Bossuet knew the Bible by heart, and could also repeat, verbatim, all Homer, Virgil, and Horace, and many other works. The Abbé Poule carried all his sermons—the compositions of forty years—in his head.

Mozart had a prodigious memory of mu- sical sounds. At the early age of fourteen he went to Rome to assist at the solemnities of Holy Week. Scarcely had he arrived there, ere he ran to the Sistine Chapel to hear the famous Miserere of Allegri. It had been forbidden to take or give a copy of this famous piece of music. Aware of this prohibition the young German placed him- self in a corner and gave the closest atten- tion to the music. On leaving the church he noted down the entire piece. The Fri- day after he heard it a second time, and fol- lowed the music with his copy in hand, assuring himself of the fidelity of his mem- ory. Next day he sang the Miserere at a concert, accompanying himself on the harp- sichord—a performance which caused so great a sensation at Rome that Pope Clement XIV. immediately requested that the musi- cal prodigy should be presented to him.

One of the most remarkable instances of memory we have ever yet met with was that of a young Florentine named Magliabechi, who died in the year 1714. This young man possessed a most insatiable passion for reading, and become familiar with nearly every book then extant in Europe. He seemed to have no taste for any particular subject, but read indiscriminately whatever came to hand. He was able to retain near- ly every thing he read, till he became at length a living speaking index of all the literature of the age. The learned con- sulted him when writing on any subject with regard to which they desired information, and he was always able to direct them to the books which treated upon the matter, desig- nating those which discussed it fully, and those which merely touched upon it. He remembered not only the matter of the books, but also the places where they were found, and by studying catalogues become familiar with the great libraries he had never seen. He became librarian to the Grand Duke, who one day asked if he could obtain a certain very rare book for him. "No, sir," was the reply, "for there is but one in the world, and that is in the library of the Grand Segnior of Constantinople, and is the seventh book on the seventh shelf, right hand side as you go in.

The editor of a New York paper vouches for the strict truthfulness of the following: Some years ago A held a bond against B for several hunderd dollars, having some time to run. When the bond became due, A made a diligent search for it among his papers, but it was not to be found. Know- ing to a certainty that the bond had not been paid, or otherwise legally disposed of, A concluded frankly to inform his neighbor B of its loss, and to retry upon his sense of justice for its payment. But to his surprise, when informed of the loss, B denied ever having given such a bond, and strongly in- timated a fraudulent design on his part in asserting that such a transaction had taken place between them. Being unable to prove his claim, A was compelled to submit to the loss of the debt, and also to the charge of dishonourable intentions in urging the de- mand. Years passed away, and the affair almost ceased to be thought of, when, one day, while A was lathing in Charles river, he was seized with cramp and came near drowning. After sinking and rising several times he was seized by a friend and drawn to the shore, and carried home apparently lifeless. But by application of the usual remedies he was restored; and as soon as he gained sufficient strength he went to his bookcase, took out a book, and from between the leaves took out the identical bond which had been so long missing. He then stated that while drowning and sinking, as he sup- posed, to rise no more, there suddenly stood out before him, as it were in a picture, every act of his life from his childhood to the moment when he sank beneth the waters, and that among other acts was that of his placing that bond in a book and having it away in the bookcase. A, armed with the long-lost document found in this marvellous manner, called upon B, of whom he re- covered the debt with interest. Similar instances of quickened memory might easily be given.

To a truly good man a retentive memory is an invaluable boon. In a true and noble life, a life full of sympathies and generous deeds for the welfare of the race, there must exist all the materials for the highest possible enjoyment on earth.—Ladies Repository.

H. B. M. Family.

The people of this realm have the best of reasons for rejoicing in every event which consolidate the stability or augments the happiness of the Royal Family. Under Queen Victoria this nation has enjoyed a prosperity and realised a progress which, if not wholly without precedents, can be only compared with one, and that the most glorious reign of our history. Besides this we owe to the Queen, and to the Prince whom we still lament, the priceless bless- ing of a pure Court and of a family life and discipline which have made the Royal household a praise and an example through- out the land. We offer our respectful congratulations to the Queen, who again sees her illustrious line extended and asur- ed, and to the Royal Parents whose hopes are once more fulfilled. We salute with our warmest good wishes the Child which has come to take its place at the royal hearth and in the capatious affection of a generous people. May Heaven guard its tender years, mould and fashion its mind to every noble grace and every Christian virtue, and make the Prince as dear to our children as his Parents are dear to us.

Sizing Down The Ages Of Man.

The man that dies youngest, as might be expected, perhaps, is the railway brakes- man. His average age is only 27. Yet this must be taken with some allowance, from the fact that hardly any but young and active men are employed in this capa- city. At the same-age dies the factory workwoman, through the combined influ- ence of confined air, sedentary posture, scant wages, and unremitting toil. Then comes the railway baggage man, who is smashed on an average at 30. Milliners and dressmakers tire but very little longer. The average of the one is 32 and of the other 33. The engineer, the fireman, the con- ductor, the powder maker, the well digger, and the factory operative, all of whom are exposed to sudden and violent deaths, die on an average under the age of 35. The cutler, the dyer, the leather dresser, the apothecary, the confectioner, the cigar ma- ker, the printer, the silversmith, the paint- er, the shoe cutter, the engraver, and the machinist, all of whom led confined lives in an unwholesome atmosphere, do not reach the average age of 40. The musi- cian blows his breath all out of his body at 40. Then come trades that are active, or in a pure air. The baker lives to an ave- rage age of 43, the butcher to 49, the brickmaker to 47, the carpenter to 49, the furnace man to 42, the mason to 48, the stone cutter to 43, the tanner to 49, the tinsmith to 43, the weaver to 44, the cook to 45, the inn-keeper to 46, the labourer to 44, the domestic servant (female) to 33, the tailor to 43, the tailoress to 41. Why should the barber live till 50, if not to show the virtues there is in personal neat- ness and soap and water! Those who average over half a century among me- chanics, are those who keep their muscles and lungs in health and moderate exercise, and not troubled with weighty cares. The blacksmith hammers till 52, and the wheel- wright till 50. The miller lives to be whitened with the age of 61. The rope- maker lengthens the thread of his life to 55. merchants, wholesale and retail, to 62. Professional men live longer than is gener- ally supposed. Litigation kills clients sometimes, but seldom lawyers, for they average 55. Physicians prove their use- fulness by prolonging their own lives to the same period. The sailor averages 43, the caulker 64, the sailmaker 52, the steve- dore 55, the ferryman 65, and the pilot 64. A dispensation of Providence that "Maine Law" men may consider incomprehensible is, that brewers and distillers live to the ripe old age of 64. Last and longest lived come pamper, 67, and "gentlemen" 62. The only two classes that do nothing for themselves and live on their neighbours, outlast all the rest.

Royalist Church Sympathies.—

It is curious to observe the sympathies of the royalist or conservative parties all over Europe, in hoping for the destruction of this republic, and deprecating our success in the suppression of the rebellion. Profess- or Hentsenberg, of Berlin, of the Establish- ed Lutheran Church, and a high saint in religious pretension, in his Annual Re- view—a dictatorial publication, called by the students "The speech from the throne" —finds nothing to report from America, but the people here "have steadily persist- ed, with more than Pharaonic obstinacy, in this same striving against God." Their heart is "hardened, like that of Pharaoh, sevenfold." "This obduration," he proceeds, "shows itself in various ways, especially in the re-election of Lincoln, that man of blood and tears."

Lying.—"So, Tom, that old liar, Dick Fibbins, is dead.—"Yes, his yarns are wound up; he'll lie no more—the old rascal.—"Indeed, it's my opinion, Tom, that he'll lie still!

"Setting a Man-Trap" is the title given to the picture of a pretty young lady arrang- ing her curls at a mirror.