On Friday, June 10, by the Rev. Mr. ——, after a severe and long-protracted courtship, which they bore with Christian fortitude and resignation, solely sustained and comforted, under all misgivings, by their sincere and confiding belief in the promise of a rich, and living inheritance in another state, Mr. —— to Miss ——, all of this city.
On April 4, of congestion of the brain, F—— E——, son of J—— and
M—— C. D——, aged fourteen months.
His remains were taken to G—— for interment yesterday.
List! heard you that angel say,
As he waved his little wing,
“Come, Freddy, come away,
Learn of me a song to sing!”
The most gigantic advertiser—if the New York Daily Sun is to be trusted for information—is Professor Holloway, so well known in this country. According to that paper, he advertises in thirteen hundred papers in the United States, and has expended, in different parts of the world, the enormous sum of nearly half a million sterling, solely for that purpose.
But, reader, there are more interesting objects to dwell upon than these. If you will only “loaf” up and down Broadway on a fine afternoon, you will see some of the neatest feet, some of the prettiest hands, some of the brightest eyes, and some of the sweetest smiles the wildest beauty-dreamer ever beheld in his most rapturous visions; had they but good figures, they would excite envy on the Alamedas of Andalusia; in short, they are the veriest little ducks in the world, and dress with Parisian perfection. No wonder, then, reader, when I tell you that “loafing” up and down Broadway is a favourite occupation with the young men who have leisure hours to spare. So attractive did my young friend of the Household Brigade find it, that it was with difficulty he was ever induced to forego his daily pilgrimage. Alas! poor fellow, those days are gone—he has since been “caught,” and another now claims his undivided adoration.
Sights and Amusements.
There is a very pleasant yacht club at New York, the festive assembly whereof is held at Hoboken. Having received a hospitable invite, I gladly availed myself of it, and, crossing the Hudson, a short walk brought me and my chaperon to the club-house—no palatial edifice, but a rustic cottage, with one large room and a kitchen attached, and beautifully situated a few yards from the water’s edge, on the woody bank of Hoboken, and on one of the most graceful bends of the river. It commands a splendid view, while perfectly cozy in itself, and is, “par excellence,” the place for a pic-nic. The property belongs to Commodore Stevens, who is well known to English yachting gentlemen, not only from his having “taken the shine out of them” at Cowes, but also for his amiability and hospitality.