Houma Ceres. [volume] (Houma, Parish of Terrebonne, La.) 1855-18??, 1857-02-14

A French SroRY.-The penny a liners
Of the French newspapers invent much
more ingenious and striking incidents than
the English. For instance, the Courier
do Limoges has the following: "As a
tradesman Of 'Farascon was, a few nights
ago, at a late hour, going in his gig to
Drives, he overlook, in a desolate part of
the road, near Puyfort, an elegantly dressed
young woman, who appeared greatly "a.
t'gued. Astonished to sec woman of
her appearance alone on the highway at
such an hour, he stopped, and questioned
her, and she, after some hesitation, said,
in soft voice: All, sir, am very IN.
happy. My husband. in consequence Of
quarrel we happened to have, has just
flung me ont Of post-chaise, and am
now going l know not where The
tradesmsn said she would do well to 60 to
Drives, the nearest town, and offered her
a seat by his side but she said, with an
air Of great modesty, that she could not
think of accompanying a perfect stranger.
The tradesman, however, insisted, and
after little while she got into the gig.
The conversation that ensused soon as.
s''med tender tone, and the tradesman
ventured to press the hand Of the lady and
to take peep into her face, which, from
what he thought was modesty, she kept
averted from him. He there saw two
fierce eyes and rough beard, and the
sight struck him with terror. After a
moments reflection, however, he let drop
his pocket. handkerchief into the road, and
said he, Madame, mus, stop for mo.
ment, to pick up my ket-handkerchief;
but no-my horse is so vicious. that can
not leave him. Is it taking too great a
liberty 10 ask you to pick up the handker-
chief for me ? M" at all, SIR said the
pretended lady, jumping from the gig and
ut the same moment the tradesman, whip.
ping his horse, drove off as fast as he pos
sibly could. A basket LEFT by the bandit
in the gig was found to contain poniard
and two pistols"
The SECRET OF PoErRY.-And what
is the secret of the great poet power
over US! There is something we love
better than love, something that is sweeter
to US than riches, something that is more
inspiring to US than succcss-and that is
the Imagination of them. No woman was
ever loved enough, no miser was ever rich
enough, no ambitious man ever successful
enough, hut in imagination. Every desire
Of the heart finds its qualification in the
poet, because he speaks always imagina.
lively aud satisfies ideal hungers. We
are the always welcome guest Of his en-.
nol'ling words.
This, then, is why the poet has been
always held in reverence among men.
All nature is dumb, aud we men have
mostly bat stunted and suffering speech.
But the longing Of every created thing is
for utterance and expression. The poets
office, whether we call him Seer, Prophet,
Maker, or Manner is always this-to he
the voice Of this low world. Through
him, man and nature find al last a tongue,
by which they can utter themselves and
speak to each other. The beauties Of the
visible world, the trembling attractions Of
the invisible, the hopes and the desires Of
the heart, the aspirations Of the soul, the
passions and the charities Of men-nay,
tue trees, the rocks, our poor old speech.
less mother, tho earth herself becomes
voice and music, and attains to that hu.
manity, divine instinct, Of which is i'm.
planted in them all.
Prosperity OF IRELAND.-The London