It's said that John Brown is now discharged from prison, but not to go above five miles from Manheim, and £500 security for his good behaviour.

28TH. News is, that the December mail was arrived at Philadelphia, but that Howe would not suffer any of the letters to be delivered. It's said Lord Chatham is at the head of affairs at London, and that General Howe has ordered all the shipping in the Delaware to be got ready for sea; that flour in Philadelphia was £5 per hundred, in hard money, beef two shillings and six-pence per pound, fire-wood (oak), £4 per cord, and other necessaries, such as eatables, in proportion; great quantities of dry goods, but all to be paid for in hard. money, but none to be taken out after being bought, except by stealth. 29TH. After dinner, went down to John Dunlap's for the supplement to the Pennsylvania Packet, it containing the resolves of congress relating to the acts of retaliation upon General Howe's prisoners, agreeably to the usage that our people who are with Howe receive. Passed through this town from camp to Yorktown this day, General Conway and the Marquis de La Fayette.

30TH. A person from York brought sundry letters from, I apprehend, some of our Tory friends there, and in Virginia, to be forwarded; but upon conversation, he took them to some more suitable persons to have them sent. By him was learned that John Parish and Isaac Lane the elder, with two or three other Friends, were then at York with the congress, soliciting the discharge of the Friends that were sent away by the president and council of safety, into Virginia; but their request was not complied with when he came away, but they were politely received.

31st. Last night was a grand ball or entertainment kept at the house of William Ross, the tavern-keeper, which it is said was very brilliant; at which it 's said were above one hundred men and women assembled, dressed in all their gayety: cold collation, with wine, punch, sweet-cake, etc., music, dancing, singing, etc., held till four this morning. Who were the principals in the promoting or the expenses, I did not learn, but neither the president nor any of his family was there.

AN HOUR IN THE LOUVRE.

IN A LETTER FROM PARIS.

BEARING in mind, dear DIEDRICH, your request that I would send you something for your unrivalled Magazine, I have penned a short description of what I conceive to be the most interesting feature of this French metropolis - THE LOUVRE. Those who have not enjoyed the luxury of this ornament of Paris, will hardly imagine the entertainment it affords, not only from its fund of the best paintings and statues, but also from the numerous people from all parts of the civilized world, who make the Louvre a resort for their leisure hours.

You will see Spaniards, Frenchmen, Italians, Germans, Russians, Englishmen, Americans, and others too numerous to name, all conversing in their own respective languages, and descanting on the beauties of the master-pieces of art, which greet the eye at every turn. Sometimes you will observe these visitants walking in parties, sometimes in pairs; and sometimes a solitary lover of art is seen loitering slowly through its ample saloons, or sitting absorbed before some work that demands more deliberate contemplation.

You will see peasants from the provinces, who have snatched a few hours from labor to spend in the meditation of this collection, of which every Frenchman seems to have heard, and which they do enjoy; notwithstanding the opinion frequently set forth that the rude mass of mankind cannot relish such productions. You will see officers from all parts of the country loquaciously discussing the beauties of Claude, Paussieu, Le Sieur, and Paul Veronese, more earnestly than we Americans discuss politics, though not half so angrily. You see the Lunnun' tradesman, with white-topped boots, and plump wife and daughters at his side, the latter often very bewitching, strutting with grave, important look, and catalogue in hand, from picture to picture; saying, 'This is monstrous pretty,' or 'This is monstrous bad,' just as it happens to strike his fancy.

You will always see ——— But who is this, leading at rapid pace a select party? It is the English Bishop, Doctor L-e, an enthusiast among amateurs. Follow him, if you would have your wonder excited.

'Yes, it is true,' says the bishop; 'Yes, yes.' 'True; fact,' say others of his party. They have decided that the picture which they are looking at is the original, in opposition to some other one, produced by an adventurous picture-dealer, who claims the honor for the 'Gem' which he has picked up.

This Louvre is an unlucky place for your dealers. They buy the copies made here, and a year after, they bring them back to Paris, and swear they are originals, and that the originals are nothing but copies; and sometimes, they actually convince people that they are duplicates, by the same hand! But generally the purchasers in such cases get laughed at for their bargains.

* Oн, do n't! The truth is not to be spoken at all times.' D. K,

You will see living originals likewise at the Louvre; odd fellows, honest warm-hearted friends withal, when you once become acquainted with them, but full of the strangest whimsies. Your halfpay officers turned amateur painters; your gentlemen of small income and large expectations; too much for work, but not enough for dashing; who amuse themselves a season in Paris, then go over to Holland, from thence to Germany, and so onward. While I was looking with much animation at a beautiful English lady, who was leaning on her father's arm, (he wore the white-topped boots before mentioned,) one of these odd fellows said to me:

'Pshaw! now do n't you be in love with her; it is all nonsense.' 'So you pretend,' I replied; but if I do not mistake you amazingly, I shall one day, not far distant, see you deep enough in the thraldom which you affect to shake off.'

'I hope you may see that day,' he replied, laughing contemptuously; 'but before that time happens, you and I will be old men.'

'You are now two years short of thirty,' I replied; 'I'll wager that you are a married man in less than three years.'

'Oh, that is not unlikely;' he replied, 'if marrying is what you mean. In fact, I am now engaged to be married to a lady, whom, if the truth must out, I do not care five straws for; but as for this dreamy nonsense which you seem to be looking after, this love, why it is sheer humbug!'

Then the lady has a fortune?' said I, rather inquiringly, and like a true Yankee.

No; she has the wherewithal to pay her part of the expenses. You would not expect me to sacrifice my little independence? Faith, no! But she has no fortune. I get married because I consider it the duty of every gentleman, when he can do so without inconvenience. But as for love whew!'

A few days after, I saw this philosophic notionalist walking in the Louvre with a lady. I recollected our conversation, and was quite willing to believe that he was not in love. The damsel, though evidently pleased with him, was not qualified to captivate. But he looked to the good things of old England. The lady, though not wealthy, was connected with some of the best families of the English gentry; and could at once give him a position in society, which mere wealth never could do. The Fates, however, were not in favor of our philosopher's notions. He died in a few months before the marriage rites were consummated; and the lady was left to mourn his loss, and to seek out some new philosopher equally enamoured.

There are croakers at the Louvre, of the extremest degree. Your old lieutenant is an intense croaker. Your old captain is not much better. They both complain bitterly of having nothing to do. No prospect of promotion! They tell over their disappointments in love matters, and censure most unmercifully the old fellows who bother them about marriage settlements.. So they go on, until some one happens to croak a good joke, which sets them all in a roar.

There are happy fellows too at the Louvre. The student who lives on a pension, halts awhile here, on his way to Italy. He is secure for a few years, and leaves the future to the will of Providence ;

taking care to enjoy the present hour, in the indulgence of what constitutes his highest earthly bliss, his taste for 'the great works.'

These, and a multitude of similar scenes, are of every-day occurrence. On Sundays and holidays the populace of Paris is admitted; and this immense gallery, a quarter of a mile in length, is crowded to overflowing with all classes of people, whose business does not allow them leisure on other days to make this their resort. Whole families, men, women, and children, dressed in their holiday attire, flock to the Louvre; and they all seem pleased and happy. As you pass in by the grand entrance, you see multitudes of canes, umbrellas, swords, etc., which are not deemed proper instruments for pointing out the beauties of art. The servants are pompously arranged, in cocked hats, which they touch with true French ceremony, as you pass the door. You go on through the splendid saloons of statuary and paintings; you observe the people, always orderly, quiet, and careful not to annoy each other; you see their happy faces, and think how much better all this is than an English or an American gin or grog shop. Paris is the city of amusements; all cheap, and many of them free on holidays; and what I tell you is true, you will rarely see a person drunk. The French laborer puts on his fine clothes, with a flower in his button-hole, tied with a pink ribbon; and he walks forth with his sweet-heart, or with his family, to see the spectacle; and he spends a few sous for wine and raisins, which he shares with them; while your English laborer skulks into the pot-house alone, leaving his family to amuse themselves as they may. I really believe you will meet a thousand drunkards in London and America, where you shall find one in Paris.

But I am making my letter too long; and what I intended merely as a description of the Louvre, I find is assuming the character of a critique. At least, it would do so, if I told you all I think on the subject. I cannot but believe if we had some such regulations in America, much vice might be prevented. All this, however, belongs to the future.

F.

SPRING.

THE gladsome days of Spring have come, the happiest of the year,
With all their bright inspiring hopes, once more the heart to cheer:
The wailing winds and naked woods' are heard and seen no more,
While warmer suns and brighter skies earth's lovely scenes restore.

The 'robin and the wren' have come — the blue-bird and the jay,
To wake the groves at early dawn, and hail the coming day:
And now in sweetest melody, through all the morning long,
The mocking-bird, with varying note, pours out a joyous song.

The gaily-blooming flowers have come. The sunny banks are bright,
Where violets and daffodils their braided hues unite;

While all the garden favorites their brightest tints assume,

And sweetly on the gentle air breathe out their rich perfume.

How rife with scenes of beauty this heritage of ours!

The glories of the vernal months- the trees, the fields, the flowers!
'The lines' to us full surely in pleasant places' fall,

And give us cause for gratitude to HIM who made them all!

THE COUNTRY DOCTOR:

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF GLAUBER SAULTZ, M. D.

CHAPTER FOUR.

'FLUMMERY,' said I, you will please put CODGER before the old gig which stands in the hovel-I believe I will ride in the old gig to-day and mind you, Flummery, do n't forget to tar the wheels, and to brush the cobwebs off the top.'

The ancient domestic looked at me with astonishment; for the vehicle which I had ordered had not been on the road in fifty years, and had been early discarded in the youthful days of Dr. Minime. But I gave him to understand that I should listen to no objections; and before the expression of surprise had departed from his face, he had started off at a rapid pace to the shed where the old gig was deposited, and dragged it out into the open air. And let not my readers suppose that I was actuated by any desire of appearing strange or peculiar in giving such orders, for I had sought in vain through the neighborhood for any carriage which would suit my purpose so well. As it would take some time to get it respectably clean, and to remove the dust and the mud of half a century, while Flummery was engaged in pouring water over the wheels, I took my hat and cane, and walked over to the farm-house of Mr. Kushow, to see Burks. I had received advices early in the morning that he had lost the balance of his mind, and was very much out of his head,' and that he had been ravin' all night.

On arriving at the house, I had a better opportunity of looking about me than during the hurry and bustle of my former adventure; and I noticed several things which may as well be mentioned here, as they apply pretty generally to the whole section of country in which my practice lay. The main part of the house, containing the 'best parlor,' and other rooms which were not in constant use, was shut up, and kept continually darkened, in order to protect it from dust, dirt, flies, and the wear and tear of feet. This would be sufficient to give the house a melancholy and inhospitable air, were it not for the wing, a part of the building devoted to the kitchen, whose doors, always thrown open, disclose the very abode of plenty, cleanliness, and thrift. It is here that the simple machinery is placed which regulates the whole domestic economy. Here the family assemble around the plentiful board; here the cradle is rocked; friends and neighbors meet in kindly intercourse; the tale is narrated; bargains are clenched, and swains make their declarations of love. It is only on occasions of frigid ceremony, as the afternoon tea-party, that the best parlor is unlocked, and the splendid carpet revealed in all its bright colors, and pristine gayety.

The Long-Island farmers have a fondness for negroes; and I observed, sitting on a large stone before the sill of Kushow's kitchen, and basking in the full blaze of the morning sun, the oldest negro in this part of the country. He had reached his hundred and twentieth year, and had lived in a part of three centuries. His hair was snowy