When madness breaks forth, the first care of the physician is to reduce and keep his patient low, in order to check the velocity and whirl of his thoughts; and if possible to procure sleep, by quieting the internal turbulency. If all his skill and efforts fail, such a person is as much lost to society as if he were dead. Now if such an one were plunged into water, and there kept until he was apparently dead, and was then recovered by the usual methods (and of which recovery we have now a moral certainty) I am apt to believe we should behold a perfect cure. There is, I own, something shocking to nature in the experiment; but if the patient be already lost, and dead to society, why should we hesitate a moment to make the trial, when the probability of succeeding is so flattering? _Salem Gazette,_ July 12, 1791. It would be interesting to see the punch-bowl out of which the members of Congress drank in 1811, on the day succeeding the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Pearson. At Washington, Hon. JOSEPH PEARSON, Esq. (Federal Representative from N. Carolina), to Miss ELEANOR BRENT, daughter of Robt. Brent, Esq., Mayor of the city.-- --> _The greater part of the members, the next day, left the business of the nation to attend the punch drinking, so that the House adj'd at an early hour_. Dec. 13, 1811. * * * * * As the following lines have the indorsement of a Hartford paper, we venture to reproduce them:-- From the New-York Daily Advertiser, May 10. DESCRIPTION OF CONNECTICUT. HERE fond remembrance stampt her much lov'd names, Here boasts the soil its _London_ and its _Thames_; Throughout her shores commodious ports abound, Clear flow the waters of the varying ground; Cold nipping winds a lengthen'd winter bring, Late rise the products of the tardy spring. The broken soil a labouring race requires; Each barren hill its generous crops admires, Where nature meanly did her gifts impart, Yet, smiling, owns how much she owes to art.