Litchfield enquirer., 1842-09-29

Inoning up an unwonted energy of mind, de- parted, and left his adored to her youthful alterations.
 Soon after this period the song of Jessie the Flower of Dumblane,' together with the music, wns published it became a public f'voritn; Il Was sung everywhere, in ihea- 1 [ es and ut parties; a world of praise was sIowerpd upon it trWn wonan's fls,ttering | lips, al,t! rnen became mad to know the ado red ohj' ct of the lay. In a short period it was discovered. Jessie Monteith, ihs pretty pt:aSant of Dmblane, was the favored One-. From all quarters young men and bachelors ilocked to see her, her own sex were curious and critical. Many promising youths paid their addresses to her, and experienced the same reception as her first lover. Neverfhe. less, at last poor Jessie became really enam- ored. A rakish spark from Midloihians, adorned with education, being of polished manners, and confident from wealth and su- pprioriiy of rank gained her young affections. She too credulousIy trusted to his unhallow. ed professions. The ardor of first love over came her better judgement, and, abandoning herself tO her love passion, she made an im- prudent escape from the protection of her parents, and soon found herself in elegant apartments near the city of Edinburg. The song of the neglected Taanahill was to his Jessie both glory and curse while it brought her into notice, and enchanted her beauty, it laid the foundation of her final de. struc1ion. Popularity is ever n dangerous elevation, whether the object of it be a peas. an, or a prince; temptations crowd around it, and snares are laid on every hand. 'Who would he eminent said distinguished child of popularity, : it they knew the peril, the madess, and distraction of mind to which the creature of the popular breath is expo- sed?'
 When the poet heard the fate of his be- loved Jessie his heart almost burst with men. tai agony, and working himself into the en. ,husiastic frenzy of inspiration poured forth a torrent of song more glowing and energet- ic than ever before dropped in burning ac. that, in fit of disgust he afterwards destroy ed those poetic records of his passion and resentment. Ere three years had revolved l heir circuit after Jessie had left her fathers 1 homo, she was changed woman. Her par- amour had deserted her. She was destitute in her splendid habitation. Her blue eyes looked pitiful on nll things around her; the oval cheeks were indented by the hand of misery, and the face and person presented the picture of an unhappy but amiable being. How changed wns the figure clothed in silk which moved on the banks of the Forth from the happy, lively girl in Dumblane, dressed in the rustic garb of a peasant.
 YoUR CHANGE. SIR.-One of those nondes script specimens of humanity, called dan- dies, travelling through Connecticut few days since in his own or borrowed convey. ance, was brought up with round turn a, a toll gate, which he designed to havo passed without paying the usual fee. When he found himself in limbo, from which he could not escape, without "fOrking Ovef," l k oH. 1nAx Svr,sn sNo tendance at the gate, how much he had to pay before he could pass the formidable barrier.
 "Three cents, sir, is the charge for single 1 wagons" replied the young lady. "Thrce cents is threepence, the half of a sixpence; one of the smallest bits of sil- i yer in use. eh young woman-am right" said the dandy, feeling in his pockets for his change. l,
 "Three cents, sir, if you please" said tho lady.
 "In your office of highwayman young woman. you wilt substract the amount of your demand from this piece, and return mo | the balance as conveniently quick as your ordinary Iocomoton will allow" said the dandy gentleman, at the same time purpose ly dropping shilling into the mud beneath his wagon. "Ah there, it is in the mul, I declare. would dirty my fingers for twenty of them"
 The young lady took the shilling from the mud, where he had dropped it, went into the house, and returned with nine cents, which she placed immediately under the Wheel, where she had taken up the shilling.
 "Hillo, hillo. young wonnan, what is 1t you mean," said the dandy. "Why don't you put that coin into my hand. eh %
 The girl archly replied, "sir, I found your money under the wagon; there you will find your change"-and as she turned to go into the house, she gave the fellow a most significant smile, and added, II wouldn't dirty my fingers for twenty of them! would you, Mr. Dandymon ha, ha. ha--there's your change, sir" and she clo- sed the 0oor. ... l The gentleman dismounted, picked up his coppers," and was off at full speed, impa- tent 10 get out of sight and hearing. If he shoulG ever happen in that country again. he will take care how he makes change with Yankee girls. -. =. EgyTtiGn Mummies.-"T The gliding and col. u,nns upon the cotfins are still fresh, and the wood of which they are constructed exhibits no indication of decay. Raise the lid!- There is the body of the silent inmate, pre- 1 served in perfect form. The bandages tho brown with age, are yet entire; and the my sterious writing upon the historical roll of papyrus resting upon the breast, is still ltgible. The head. the hair, the teeth, the arms, the legs, the hands, the feet, the skin, the bones, the sinews. are all preserved, and the whole mortal fabric is there laid in it's narrow house. wrapped in the habiliments of the grave. with all the care and neatness that friendship could dictate or art achive. These