for, and that it is his duty to look upon it as an awakening of his, perhaps, too worldly and forgetful spirit, to higher and better duties; and if so, then will it prove a blessing unto him, and will not have been given in vain.  We would not, therefore, be outdone even in charity by our good friend of the True Blue; and we remember that when about six months ago, he was said to have been found in a state scarcely compatible with sobriety, in the channel of Castle Cumber main street, opposite the office door of the Equivocal, on his way home from an Orange lodge, we not only aided him, as was our duty, but we placed the circumstance in its proper light—­a mere giddiness in the head, accompanied by a total prostration of physical strength, to both of which even the most temperate, and sober, are occasionally liable.  The defect of speech, accompanied by a strong tendency to lethargy, we accounted for at the time, by a transient cessation or paralysis of the tongue, and a congestion of blood on the brain, all of which frequently attack persons of the soberest habits.  Others might have said it was intoxication, or drunkenness, and so might his character have been injured; but when his incapacity to stand was placed upon its proper footing, the matter was made perfectly clear, and there was, consequently, no doubt about it.  So easy is it to distort a circumstance, that is harmless and indifferent in itself, into a grievous fault, especially where there is not Christian charity to throw a cloak over it.’

“’Such is a specimen of two paragraphs—­one from each paper; and considering that the subject was a delicate one, and involving; the character of a professor, we think it was as delicately handled on both sides as possible.  I am told it is to be publicly alluded to to-morrow in the congregation of which the subject of it, a Mr. Solomon M’Slime, an attorney, is an elder—­a circumstance which plainly accounts for the heading of the paragraph in the True Blue.

“There were, however, about a week or ten days ago, a couple of paragraphs in the True Blue—­which, by the way, is Mr. M’Clutchy’s favorite paper—­of a very painful description.  There is a highly respectable man here, named M’Loughlin—­and you will please to observe, my dear Spinageberd, that this M’Loughlin is respected and well spoken of by every class and party; remember that, I say.  This man is a partner with a young fellow named Harman, who is also very popular with parties.  Harman, it seems, was present at some scene up in the mountains, where M’Clutchy’s blood-hounds, as they are called, from their ferocity when on duty, had gone to take a man suspected for murder.  At all events, one of the blood-hounds in the straggle—­for they were all armed, as they usually are—­lost his life by the discharge—­said to be accidental, but sworn to be otherwise, before Mr. Magistrate M’Clutchy—­of a loaded carbine.  He was to have been tried at the assizes which have just terminated; but his trial