The Native American

The Pretty Segar Girl. The well known Pretty Segar Girl who attended Anderson's store, next door to the Hospital, has eloped under very distressing circumstances. Her name is Mary Cecilia Rogers, and her mother resides in Pitt street. She wrote a letter to her, in which she expressed her determination to commit suicide from a love affair, as 'tis supposed. Great anxiety is manifested to procure some intelligence of her, although it may turn out that she has gone off with some person.

Generally speaking, we approve of females attending various stores; we think every avenue should be open to them whereby they can honorably earn a living and become independent; there are also several light trades in which they may be occupied, and in many instances ladies would rather be waited upon by females than by males, but we do object to setting them up to public gaze, and making them the peculiar feature of attraction, particularly in a Segar Store in the most frequented part of Broadway. All the young men in town who smoke, were tempted to purchase their shilling's worth of segars at this store, and those who were not in the habit were led to commence the practise in order to see and talk with that pretty girl. The temptation was mutual, the men purchased the segars which her taper fingers culled from the box—she handed the slip of paper to be lit from the lamp on the counter to ignite the segar—all this took time, and enabled each to say something complimentary to her; they gazed on her beautiful and expressive face, and she in turn drank whole draughts of flattery—the result is either an elopement with some individual, or in a romantic fit from disappointed or betrayed love, she has made way with herself.

The principle and practise, as carried out in this instance, are altogether wrong.

Hamlet. If you be honest and fair, you should admit no discourse to your beauty!

Ophelia. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?

Hamlet. Aye, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is, to a bawd, than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness.—N. Y. Star.