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Br HENRY J. STAIILE.
37 11 ' YEAR.
TERNS OF THE COMPILER.
Ber l'lte Republican Compiler is published
every Nfonday morning*, by LIENEY J. - STABLE,
at $1,75 per annum if in advance.:-2,00
per annuli') if not paid in• advance. • 'N6 sub- ,
scription - discontinued,,Amless at the option of
the publisher, until all arrearages are paid.
'ADVERNISEMENTS inserted at the Usual rates.
jOO Woui done, neatly, cheapli, and with
dispatch: • -
Aa'-Oilice on SouiTh Baltimore 'street, direct
ly opposite Wampler's Tinning Establishment,
one and a half squares froin the Court House.
cElpice Portni.
The Old Man Leaned on his Friendly Staff.
The oleinan leaned on his friendly Stair,
With tottering step and slow,
Le he picked his way, of a Sunday morn,
To the church where he loved to go.
rUs hair was white, and he scarcely knew
A friend, as he passed him by;
$o feeble and frail his memory now,
And so dim his clouded eye.
He sat on a home-m:ule , chair at church,
In front of the preacher's stand,
And listened as if lu a pleasant dream,.
To the words of a better laud.
The suulight fell ou his siirery leeks,
And his white hair - tallied to gold—
Anil I fancied a, sunlight shone from /leaven,
Ou the heart of that pilgrim old..
Bat the autumn leaves have fallen now,
And the old man sleeps below—
We never shall see him pass again,
With his tottering step and slow.
• :eclat
A DAUGHTER'S DEVOTION.
The head, of the family was buried, and
the widow and daughter resigned themselves
to grief., In all the great rooms below stairs
was the rich furniture paraded, statuetes of
exquisite loveliness, that never before felt the
touch of rude fingers; paintings, fauteuils,
marble tables, Mirrors, tt . nd dear domestic
luxuries that had been hallowed by love so
many fond years..
The ruthless hammer-beat all day. Throngs
crowded the great stone entrance, silks and
satins and feathers and beautiful laces flitted
in and out.
Towards night a plain carriage'drew up to a
side-door, where the servants shad' always
found egress and-ingress. Two forms shrouded
in black, moved slowly from the house and en- .
tered ; one, of them with the gestures of abso
lute despair.
The next day a business ldroking man called
at the poor tome which had been offered the
dependents, till they could maintain them
selves. Ile placed a box on the table, asked
for the young lady. and subdued by 'her pale
stteet face, spice in very low tone :
"A.ly dear young lady, will you accept' these
from one of your father's friends ; they may be
invaluable to you as fatnily relics ; or if you
choose to sell them..you may command a hand
some suni. 'We cannot allow , you to wake
a sacrifice of all you hold dear.'
After he had gone, Helen sat for many mo
ments, hem white hiinds folded, and lids droop
ing'. All day she had held the passive form
of her heart stricken mother. Selfish the lat
ter certainly was, even in . her overwhelming
sorrow, and Helen suffered thrice the anguish
of broken hopes in witnessing her uncontrola
ble agony. But, brave gill. she would not
despond. She pressed the hot tears back with
her trembling fingers, as she murmused,—
"poOr mother, I cannot wonder at her grief ;
brought up.so tenderly, she cannot. must not
live in poverty. She shall at least imagine
that she knows no want."
Helen had changed her jewels jrito gold, fur
nished a small room with some degree of ele ,
gance, paid the rent for a few weeks in ad
vance, and had still a moiety of money in her
purse.
"Cheer up, dear mamma." she said, "we
still have friends. You Will not want. I
have even the'opportunity of procuring you a
little servant, who will come to assist you
night and morning. A man will brim , c your
coal up to your door, and I myself will be your
dressing maid. And you will have nothing
more to do than you ever had, and you can
finish your beautiful embroidery."
The still elegant woman looked up with a
pensive smile.
"Ah ! but, my child, you will have no one
TIONV to accompany you to and from the acade
my ; you will not even have a carriage ; your
poor little feet will be blistered with walking."
flush of delight mounted to Helen's cheeks
—her mother did .nut then even suspect that
their means were wholly withdrawn, and she
flied not - communicate her . plan—her daring
plan that it would give her so much pain to
unfold..
She tried in vain to find employment as a
teacher. Youth, inexperience, beauty, delica
cy of frame were all against her.
Passing one day, with her green veil down,
through a narrow street, she was arrested by
a notice at a haberdasher's window. Several
girls were wanted to learn hair-working.
Mood wages would be given, etc.
She entered, ivas engaged and immediately
set herself down to this vocation. It was a
terrible trial to her—ay ! and you may call it
aristocratic pride, prejudice, what you will—
but,it is terrible to one who has been a-6as
totned to luxuries, whose coming and going haS
been tenderly watched ; whose feet. have never
known a more rude press than the thornless
flowers on the rich niau's hall— it is bitterly
terrible, and thrice terrible, for such a one to
Lend to the stern behest of manual toil.
Day after day she labored. and nightly too,
__when _her_ mother slept. At the end oLevery
Week, all her little earnings were gone—but
Eau; contrived to set delicacies on her mother's
table of which she would eat. sparingly herself.
A large importer ct ho frequently came in to
the work-room noticed this fragile creature,
and often asked quei-tions concerning her. lie
saw how timid sue. was, how small and white
---the-hand-that-t-%viiteilLin - aniid - the -- soft - loc - kw - of
hair, how quickly the scarlet flitted over her
cheek whenever she .caS Spohen to, and her re
finement of manner lileased and interested flint.
It set med to hint that she .vas WO? king be
yond her strength, and once he sa.w her pi es.s
r. de w e
t'er% cot glance up v‘ ard, i;libLened
W iU lcaro.
hillil4 (..4grirulturr, ):itriaturr, 3115 net „iriturrg, 31Iarlat5, c rnrral= Vomrbtir .nub Auriga 3uttiligrart, rzburrtising, 2mustmtut,
When he had heard the story. he was tilled
with admiration. The humble little shop girl,
who for a trifling consideration had been in
duced to spend a few hours a-day in household'
labor for Helen's mother, told him all. He
resolved that. this pure, gentle creature should
not sacrifice her life, even for the interest of
one so dear as a mother, must be. lie knew
not the whole yet, however.
have called to see you, madam, with' re
ference to your daughter Helen."
The lady started, exclaiming, "nothing can
have happened to my clad !"
"Nothing. my dear madam'," he said, glanc
ing at - the embroidery frame, the rich carpet,
the beautiful etceteras of the apartment, only
I fear the young lady alloWs herself too little
Jest."
T often tell her, sir, that she studies
too hard. The rules of the academy are so
strict,, I fear she will not be able to continue.
Since her father's death. poor -child, she has
waked all, the way to E street ; she al
ways rode before, and as she has the manage
ment of what little money was' left, I know
she seldom affords herself even a cheap ride."
"flier studies—the academy ?" exclaimed
her visitor, rind then he repeated them over.
slowly, as if to be sure he had heard the words
aright.
•~Y'es, sir : her father died at the beginning
of the last term, and she is unwilling to lose
the benefit, as he paid a year's advance. Dear
child, I suppose she will have to become a
teacher, or some such drudge,"—and she
sighed heavily.
‘•Madam—l—excuse me—it cannot be the
Helen Harding I had heard—and yet—the cir;
cumstances ! Madam, does not , your daughter
work in a haberda . her's shop ?' •
Poor Mrs. Harding screamed out right.
"My dear sir, do you think my child would
descend"—and there she stopped. Her face
grew deadly pale—Some thrilling thought
forced itself upon her mind.
"I remember now," she said - slowly, and
with an effort—qlelen never told me , she
should continue at school—and -I, oh ! how
helpless I have been ! how unthinking ! If it
be,—dear sir, describe this Helen."
"It is she," she exclaimed, springing to her
feet, and bursting into tears. - Noble, gener
ous child ! self-sacrificing daughter ! Oh !
could I not comprehuid ? Iler pale cheeks—her
eyes so heavy—her slow step. Noble, geiiev•
ousehild ! and she has done all this for me—
to spare her mother the pangs of wounded
pride—she is wearing herself to the grave for
me." • . ; , z- •
Bitterly - she 'wept for some moments, and
her, visitor, venturing to speak in' a choked.
huSky voice, only ended by snapping his eyes
and flourishing his handkerchief; some where
in their vicinity.
"This shall be no longer," at last she said,
rising with dignity. ‘.True, I have never la
bored ; true, I am proud—l shall henceforth
be too proud thus to live in idleness, dependent
upon the labor of •my delicate clfild. I will
go forth into the world. I can do something
—the widow's God will aid me—for her self
sacrificing efforts have put new life within this
weak frame."
"Do not apologize, sir ; you cannot tell what
an inestimable blessing your call has proved
to me ; and, sir," she continued. looking at him
with eyes.filled anew, "have I nut reason to
be proud of my child ?"
What had hitherto seemed dross, now prov
ed to be fine gold. All selfishness, all - indolence
were gone, and Mrs.llarding had become trans
formed into an energetic woman, willing and
anxious to take her place in the travel-stained
paths of toil. But there was no need. The
wealthy stranger, pleased with her manners,
loved, and won her for a wife. Deleu, who
had tasted both the sweets and the • aloes of
life, moved again in the brilliant circles to
which she had been adcnstomed.. But more
than for all her varied accomplishments, was
she loved and admired for the noble sellsacii
flee of feeling, -taste, and even health she had
made, that her mother might be spared the
pain of even imagining she was poor.
Filial love is always rewarded by the great
Giver may bath commanded us to "Honor
Father and Mother."
Pointed Extract.
in one of Rev. E. 11. Chapin's sermons is the
following pointed extract :
"Many a man there is, clothed in respecta-
bility, and proud of his honor: whose central'
idea of life is interest
,and ease, the conception
that other men are mere tools to be used as
will best serve him, that God has endowed
him with sinew and brain Merely to scramble
and get : and so in this grand universe, which
is a perfect circulation of benefits, he lives like
a sponge on a rock, to absorb and bloat, and
die. Thousands in this great city are living so,
who never look out of the narrow circle of their
self-interest ; whose decalogue is arithmetic,
whose -13 i ble - is - theirledger -- ; - who have so con•
tracted and hardened and stamped their nature,
that in any spiritual estimate, they would pass
for only so many bogus dollars.—Ex.
A man who is very rich now, was very poor
when a boy. When asked how he got his
riches, he replied, "My father taught my never
to play till my work was finished, and never t o
spend iny money till I had earned it. If I had
but an hour's work m a day I must do that the
very, first thing. and in an hour. After it was
done, I was allowed to play; with much more
pleasure than if the thought of an unfinished
task obtruded upon my mind. I early formed
the habit of doing evei•ything in turn, acid it
soon became perfectly easy for me to do so. It
is to tins I owe my proverity." -Let every
boy that muds this go and do likewise.
r7Beautiful is the love of youth to youth,
strong the affection of woman to woman, and
fair in the eyes of the morning sun is the ear
ly waking from peaceful sleep and the utterance
of the pleasant "good morning."—liulwer.
E, - 7 - Memory presides over the past—action
presides over the present. The first lives in a
rich temple hung with glorious trophies. and
hoed with tombs: the other has no shrine
but duty and it walks the earth like a spirit.
'Riches are gotten with pain, kept with
care and 1o:4t with grief. The care of riches tic
heavier upon a good man than the inconvenience
of lionest poverty.
37 Fear God and keep his commandments
,tliieffjthe sole dut • of
deac-on sybo took up a cullection bas
1 - '7 - The
laid it </lAA
U so ila•
Good.
GETTYSBURG, PA.: MONDAY, JUNE 4,1.855.
Nobleness olsoa
An incident occurred a few daysago, whic
will probably prove a strong argument, in the
hands of crusty bachelors, against matrimony,
' and may possibly be used by them in tlleic ti-`
rades against. the innate generosity of the fair
sea. An unfortunate, woman. whose husband
had been sick. during the whole winter,' and
whose savings were-all spent ; a woman whose
poverty spoke out through every fold of .her
dress, and her emaciated. form, in her pale.
care-worn; haggard and pinched.fca tures, not
wishing to throw herself upon the cold ,chari
ties of her neighbors, called at a certain pri
vate house m 'York street near Barrow, and
after stating her case in. a few f..eling words,
took from her linger a plain gold ring, - which
she offered to the lady fur a small sum, to en
able her to relieve the gnawing demands of
hunger. The lady -told her, in the nobleness
of heart, that she would give her the generous
sum of twenty-live cents fur it, at the same
time putting that tnunille nt amount into her
tivi,hered hand. The stifle 'ng creature .could
n refuse it, but blinded b . calling tears,
turned from the door; her soul crushed and
harrowed with anguish. It was a ring.around
which many pleasant associations, clustered.
a memento of happy days, the pledge of pure
allection, given at. the altar by him who was
then the idol of her young heart—the father
of her hapless children ! It ,told of 'blissful
hours, of times of plenty and content. when
affection's light tilled the eye .now gushing
with tears. She tinned away from her mean
smiled sister whose heart warmed not toward
her sufferings and whose purse-string closed
the tighter at the very presence of poverty.
The ring may sparkle upon the finger of the
sordid lady, but the tear in the eye of the poor
woman was a jewel prized by her Heavenly
Father as she lifted her heart to him and said
—‘‘Thy will be done."---Jersey City Telegraph..
How Much . to be admired is youth, when
noble and generous—when pure and holy feel
ings like a living fountilow out of the heart
—spreading around and fertilizing the soil of
friendship—warm and generous hearts to
crowd around him and enclose him in a circle
of pure god-like happiness. The eye of the
woman brightens at his approach, and wealth
and honor smile to woo him in their circle. his
days speed onward, and a summer brook
sparkles all joyous amid the light of woman's
love and manhood's eulogy. The earth, the
sea, the air, and every bright and bubbling
stream and fount send forth their murmuring
melody, and his ',lnv heart, unstained by
worldly guile, drinks deep in their glowing
happiness.
EXCESSIVE POLliENKSS.—Rowland Hill 'was
always annoyed when there happened to be
any noise in the chapel. or when anything oc
curred to divert the attention of his hearers
from what he was saying. On one' occasion;
a few days before his death, he was penciling
to one of the most crowded congregation , : that
ever assembled to hear him.' En the middle of
his discourse, he observed a commotion in the
gallery. For some time he took no notice rif,
it, but finding it increasing, he paused in his
sermon and looking in the direction in which
the confusion prevailed, he exclaimed :
“What's the matter there ? The devil seems
to have got among you ”
A Wain country looking n►an immediately
started to his feet, and addressing Mr. Hill in
reply. said:
-No, sir, it aren't the devil as is doing this :
it's a fat woman wot's fainted ; and Ml►e's
werry fat 'un, sir, as she don't seem likely .to
come too again in a hurry."
"Oh, that's it. is it ?" observed Mr. Hill.
drawing his hand across hi:chin :"then,l beg
the lady's pardun—and the devil's too."
, NOT BAD.-A correspondent of the Cincin
nati Times, from Vermont, relates the follow
ing : lum reminded, speaking of cheese. of a,
little anecdote the stage-driver told me the
other day. We were passing an old farm
house .with an untidy yard and dilapidated
building when he said:
'•A Boston man got off a pretty cute speech
to the owner of that place t'other day."
"•What was it ?" i asked.
"Why, he called at a house lo buy cheese.
but when he came to look at the lot, he con
cluded he didn't want 'em, they were so full
of skippers. So he made an excuse and was
going away, when the tanner said to him . :
"Look here. mister, how can I - get my cheese
down to Boston the cheapest ?"
The gentleman looked at the stuff a moment
and saw the squirming, and said :
"Well I don't know ; let 'cm he a day or
two and you can drive'ca► right down!"
WHY DOES THE OAK. ATTRACT TETE LIGHT
NING . I—The frequent effects of lightning upon
oak has excited the attention of the philosoph
ic mind. After mentioning several examples
of the manner in which the oak has been sin
gled out from other trees immediately joining,
and of equal height, a writer upon the subject
says: "It is well known by chemists that oak
contains a considerable portion of iron in its
composition. This metal, it may he presum
ed, is held in solution by the sap, and equally
distributed throughout the whole tree.—Jlay
it not be owing to this circumstance that the
oak is so frequently a victim to that power,
which in fact it solicits with extended arms, to
its own destruction I—This is a fact worthy of
notice. and should be generally known, in or
der to prevent persons taking shelter in situa
tions attended with such imminent danger."
is rather curious to consider how peo
ple generally associate anything of a cheerful
and jolly characer with eating. A merry
andrew or turns a sornetNet and comes
on with "Ilere we are, my masters ;" where
upon the-various nationalities greet him with
pet names out of the cookery-book. The
Englkliman calls out—" Jack Pudding!" the
Dutchman cries ..Pickle-Ilerring ;" the Ger
man, -.John Sausage" (Was Werst) ; the
Frenchman, "Jean Potage ;" the Italian, —Mac
aroni'."
1-) -- --The Wyoming "Mirror" relates a good
joke of an old collector, who *as proverbial for
his politeness as well as pertinacity. lle was
always in the habit of taking a delinquent aside
vv lieu he dunned him. One day he suet a non.
payer, upon a very unfrequented road, some
halrniile from any human being. What does
the old chap do,- but leave his buggy, call the
o o iet aside, and in a fence Coiner politely ask
him tur that little balance :
177:T0 prevent cats frvm ann(')in i ; you—
bitout L l / 4 ..W dicy
"Turin IS MIGHTY. ANDr WILL•PREVAIL."
Youth.
An Auction Scene.
“Gentlemen. I am offering you a bargain',”
C 7 ed an up-town auctioneer the other evening,
to , crowd. the most oi' whom were country
pe handkeretiteffs a regular pon
gee and can't be purchased in a store for less
than two dollars and a half, and here I've on
ly two , bits bid. It's a shame, gentlemen, to
sacrifice goods in this way."
• Here one of the crowd, a strapping young
Hoosier, his horn." - and. in doing so
managed to dispense with the article which
was being offered for sale. The auctioneer
observing this, took it for a favorable omen,
and fixing his eyed on the young Hoosier,
asked:
"•Did you blow your nose, sir
This of course,_ attracted all eyes to the in
dividual, but he, not abashed, replied,
“Woll,l reckon I did•”
“And didn't use a handkerchief 3”
This query caused a roar of laughter, for
auctioneers, such as'-this one, always manage
to iinpiess their audience that every thing
they say is witty. The young Hoosier, how
ever, not in the least 'disconcerted, replied :
reckon I didn't."
...Now, gentlemen, do you hear that," cried
the auctioneer. pongee like this going off
at two bits. a man in the house got nothing to
blow his nose on, and won't bid on it. (laugh
ter.) X can't imagine what neck of the woods
the animal came ftOm (laughter.) Probably
fr&n that place where the men are so stingy
that they load their rifles with - pebbleS instad
of bullets." (Boisterous laughter.)
'•l says, stranger," erica the young IloOsier,
quite animated, ..did you ever hear of Dick
''ompson 3" - •
..No,", replied the auctioneer, winking tithe
crowd.
—So I reckoned," continite&the Hoosier.--
"He lives. down our way, and is counted not
overly cute. Ile cum to town w mist, an' right
in here bought one "of yer pongee hatlker
chiefs,and what do you think he said abOut it?"
A-Praised it, no doubt," replied the auction•
ter. •
"Over the left," said the Hoosier. "Though
he's got a little smib nuse. not nigh as big as
youru, the first time he vie! the hankkereheef
he blowed nineteen holes in it, and ever since
that are time he's used his coat tail !"
The laugh was now upon the auctioneer, and
not only that; but finding himself' unable to get
another bid, he soon dismissed his audience
until the Hen evening. •
Gossipping,
Many a fine woman . has lost her reputation
through =the gabbling of mischief-making gos
sips ; indeed the whole history and progress
of scandal nitiy be traced to something like
the following, which is rather wore at large
than a piece of the same nature heretofore pub
lished :
•.Mrs. Hopkins told mo she heard Sam
Grubbs wife say, that Johu Harris's wife told
her, that Granny Smith heard,thatit was no
doubt the widow Baker said; that Captain
VootPs wife thought, that Col. Lane's wife
believed, that old. Mis. Lamb reckontrd, posi
tively, that Peter Dunhatu's with had told
Nell Cuscudgen, that her..mint had declared to
Mrs. Thinguthbob and the whole world, that
it was generally believed that mother Parker
had studio plain terms, that she heard Betsy
Cook say. that her sister PoUy had said, that
it was V{ ell kium n in the neighborhood, that
old Mrs. Slouch made no bones of saying, that
in her opinion, it was a matter of fact. that
Susan Miller was in the weekly habit of dying
her hair !"
fr7A youth. whose progressive proclivities
had not been chilled in a life of hoventeen win
ters, marched into an Ahreiman's office in
Pittsburg, last wcck, in company with a lass
of twelve sumtners. and asked to be married
"quick."' The magistrate being an old "fogy,"
refused. Whereupon the youthful individual.
taking his companion's arm . in his, and turn
ing away in wrathful indignation, exclaimed :
"This is a great free country, where men and
women can't,get married when they pleal6l"
a7"Peter. what are you doing to that boy?"
said a schoolmaster.
"Lie 'ivanted to know if you take ten from
seventeen how t►►any will rema►n ; so I took
ten of his apples to show his►, and now he
wants that I should give 'in) back."
"Well, why don'tyou do it f"
"Cause, sir, he would forget how many
was left."
0 - 7 - " Why don't you give us a little Greek
and Latin occasionally ?" asked a country
deacon'of the new minister.
"Why, do you understand those langua
ges ?"
—No : but we pay for the best, and we ought
to have it."
DANGHILOCS.—The Scientific American Call
tjOns its renders against the use of painted
pails. and says the oxide of lead, with which
pails aro painted, is a dangerous poison, and
has been known to be productive of evit in many
cases.
ry_".Whatever - Clod has made is perfect,"
said a wesiern preacher to his hearers.
"What do you think of me, then ?" said a
hunchback, rising up and exhibiting his own
deformity.
"Think of you ?" said the preacher. "why
I think you are as perfect a hunchback as I
ever saw in my life."
f' - 'fit Virginian of twenty-three was lately
throwing out some affected sneers at matrimo
ny, when a grave friend in company olyserved,
that marriages were mnde in heaven. "Can
you, tell me. sir," rejoined the sly nymph,
"why they are so 8/,,w in coining down?"
Ir'7"•l3ob, did you settle that business with
Simpkins, yet ?" "Fes—he kicked me off the
stoop last. week. and since that he has stopped
bothering me." Bob's ideas of —bothering"
are certainly original.
E7A queer genius being asked why he did
not go to :he toneral of his wife. replied he
could not leave his shop, and that it is always
best to attend tolnisiness before pleasure.
- n- - ;"Wehaveohserved n►any turn hl es through
life, but have invariably noticed that it is the
man who mounts a high horse that receives
the least pity when he tails.
7There is an old lady in Troy so full of
sympathy, that every tittle her ducks take a
bath in the rand glitter, she dries their feet by
the the, to keep thou from catching cold.
English Gold' and French Wit.
Talleyrand . had one of the . most amusing
salons in Paris, fur all the -politicians and
diplomats of that day were wits and cotiVersa
tionists. Diplomacy. had not then taken the
mysterious and sombre aspect it has assumed
in modern days; perhaps Jiecause in these-days_
it. had too much to do. and need not the . at;
fectation.of importance ; just as sines the in
vention of telegraphs and railroads. Abet*
seems to have been in the political world noth
ing extraordinary enough to communicate by
such a wonderful messenger.
In later years, Talleyrand loved wit better
than conversation. leaving his accomplished
niece, the Duchess de Dino, to entertain his
other guests, he would retire with some of the
foreign ambassadors, old friendis and old- foes,
into 'his own rem, and play a scientific rubber.*
the intricacies of which it was Coriolis to
watch, seeing that the talents whicb were . em
ployed to settle the division_of Eutope at the
Congress of Vienna, were now. all concentrated
on the odd trick.
The stakes were gold-pieces. but they often
reached the sums of thousands of francs. Otte
evening. at the termination of one of these par
ties, the English ambassador suddenly dived
beneath the table and began fumbling on the
carpet.
~ 1V hat is your excellency about 1" said Tat
leyrand.
“Leoking for a Napoleon. which has fallen."
"Wait an ins ant," said Talleyrantl, with a
twinkle of hislight grey eye; and a sarcastic
twist of his - thin and distorted lips. ..you can
not see to find so small thing." ,As he
Spoke. -- he twisted a. thousand franc bill into a
paper match, and setting fire to it, held it to
the ground;
""What are - you. - about ?" exclaimed the as."
tounded ambassador. pill/Aug on his lianda-and
knees. and looking .up.,
“31erely lighting your excellency. ° 'replied
Tallevrund.
Upun which the discomfited minister, un
derstanding the epigram. instantly arose. leav
ink; the Napoleon as a perquisite for the scram
who bilOtlid HMI it.
A Rich Joke.
A gentleman in this place, played a rich
joke on his better half the other day. Being
something of au epicure. he took it into his
head, that he would like to have' if first-rate
dinner. , So he addressed her a note, politely
informing her that gentleman of h6r.:sel
quaiiitance—an old and true friend, would (the
with her that day." As soon as she received
it, all hands went to work to get everything in
order: ecisety - at 12 o'clock she was pre
pared to receive her guest. The
,house wrse=as
clean as a new pin—a sumptuOus ,dinner was
on the table_ nn d
she was arrayed in. her hest
attire. A gentle : knock was heard; and She
started, with a palpitating heart toll° door.
She thought,it must be an old friend--perhaps
a brother—from the place' whence they once
moved. On opening the: door. she saw her
husband with a smiling countenance.
"Why. my dear," said she.'in an anxious
tone, -where is the gentleman you spoke of in
your note 1" •
“Why," said her husband complaCentlY,
"here he is."
"You said a gentleman of my acquaintance,
an old and true friend would dine with us to
day."
Well," said he good humoredly, "am T not
a gentleman of youy acquaintance, an old and
true friend ?" , . ,
"Oh !" said she distressingly, "is there no
body but you
-No."
"Well I declare this is too bad," said ,his
wife, in an angry tone.
The hughmol laughed immoderately—his
better half said she felt like giving hint a tongue
lashing—but finally they sat down cozily to
gether, and 'for once he had a good dinner
without having company.
A FACT FOR FARMl.ttB.—Dr. IL I. Baldwin
has recently made public the result of several
years' investigation' and experiments upon
manures. and variottaivays of fertilizing the
soil. Ile states -that the best and speediest.
wiry to fertilize any soil, is to cover it over
with straw. bushes, or Any. raw material. so as
to completely shade it. The - surface of the
earth thus being made very cool, dark, damp
and close. soon under-goes a chemical process
like•putriflcation. and becomes highly fertiliz
ed. This plan of fertilizing, he says, may be
applied with success to any soil. whatever, no
matter how poor, and the result will be as
tonishing.
A N EsoitMors Ronx.—The largest room in
the world under a single roof and unbroken
by pillars or other t obstructions. is at St.
Petersburg. Russia. and is 650 feet in length.
and 150 feet in breadth. By day light it is
used fbr military displays, and a battalion can
conveniently manoeuvre in it. In the evening
it - is often converted into a vast ball room,
when it is warmed by sixteen prodigious
stoves, and 20,000 wax tapers are required to
light it properly. The roof of this structure is
a single arch of iron, the bars alone on which
it rests weighing 12,830 pounds.
Moan PROIIIIIITTON.—The Boston Times,
Npeakmg of the determination to enforce the
ordinance against smoking in the streets. sug
gests that musk and patchouli he also prohib
ited. They are far more offensive to most peo
ple than the smoke of a good segar.
137 - Dr. Crisp, of London. has been dissecting
singing mice, and has found that they all,
without exception, have a large worm in the
upper part of the liver, and he supposes their
curious music to be an indication At pain.
What is it. that goes when a wagon goes,
stops when a wagon stops, it ain't no use to the
wagon, and yet the wagon can't go without it?
Why. it is the noise, to be sure.
7The man who •'threw up" a bargain,
came near having his hat eruflied when it came
down. .
fr'When may two persons be said to be
half-witted ? When they have an understand
ing between them.
- "'"./ ) isnch" says 4.a secret warranted to
.. 4ceep in any climate, is a wotnan's age."—Llor
rid Pcsnek.
3:7 Paradise Regained—Hugging a blue
eyed girl on a pile of freshly cut clover. Go
way, strawberries , you have lost your taste.
[:.:17 - The fire that "went out"
,has not re
turned.
TWO DOLLARS A-YEAR.
Address to a Choir.
The following extracts are from an "address
to a new choir of singers," found in an old
magazine:
As in every public address, the objectof the
speaker should be to do good to his hearers,
you will allow meta give you a few words of
caution and advice adapted to - the occasion
1, Cultivate a spirit of harmony among your
selves.
One might. suppose 'that among those who
profess to be lovers of harmony. sach caution
would not be needed. It cannot. however. be
coricealed. that *toy, frequently discords have
been beard among those who have a knowltdge,
of the ,harmony of sounds. A trifling incident
induces, one individual to take offence, :and he
leaves seat a feW - Of bite friends juttify.
him, and pey all -leave.
Thus enthrall the tiine.they have ltptntt. in -ac
quiring At knowledge ,of, concord and
harmony. In most instances; "the' evil! . - of
w hick' 1 complain way lie, traced to Ignerance
and pride.'
•
If persons were wise, they, would,not7tell an
around them that - .they ,weie offended ; and
were it not for 'pride, they *oat* not so' fre
quently take offence.' - • . •
Should you -bear a person . , injudiciously
praised for sweetness and eatnkiasa ot,vOice,'
that su rely' oeght not 'to' be considered. suti
cient 'reason' for proeoking, your ilispleastne,
or for causing you to withdraw ;from. the sent,
You. do. not. I trust. come to the
,honiie'er Gixi
w Maki a diSplay of your itiiiiiical•taleritti. - nor
to be admired for the softnessend-tuellitinence
of your voices. „Were th.eso, your, t00ti.,!*2,-Ii
theatre would, lie the 'most suitable, 'Place ,to.
exhibit pier inimical powetrel" but; if -they:4e.
not. it will be unwise in' your to he Offended
because another is, perhaps, itidioceeetly.
tolled. -- • -
Let me : entreat you to .- "esteein °thorn better
than yourselves.! - 'Never , anew, yotitsclretv
look with' envy ;on the extelietieo, of , your,
Emulate,, but - never - err , / - .What la
superior in ; others:' The Lord dos i not *hire'
you to sing with the voiceamlakiltefinotheri
but with your own voice -and ,your
Above all things.-recollect. that it -is .no t.
sweetness of a tingly modulated voice, bit It
is the melody of the tiiiiii,tiiitiAtietordjAisieli
Omniticience sipproyes. -
2. Let your deportment, be solemn-and re*,
spectral in the house of God.
Profit 'the °hien-Vidalia 'which,' have'. already
been made, it rn baoheitniato **Oh nf,
that solemnity and devotion *Coe thqse.wilo
engage in .the praineset.Gocl.' become :
I have been shocked With die Manner in which
this part of worship - was conducted: , AWhitt
have seen a number afoul%lo)9Pterabdin
the trout
,gallery, .Whoee. light. end t.r
ditet was more suited to a bill , ineirillunt the
house of God, my. soul bas been grievetWithio
I - must cenfeis t as an intlividlat, I had rith-'
er your singing seat should' be' entirely
cupied than any should lead in this weiship
who have not'such a sense of propriety - -asl-to
maintain a berionadepolinitiut in the house of .
God.
3. Let yourection ottunen,beindieiont.
If your tunes ar ijudiciously Selected-they .
be adapted to the sentiments. contained_ in the
psalm or hymn that 'is sung., If it is it, peni
tential hymn, expressiie humiliation or
grief, you will avail - yotirseliesOf those plain.
Live and tender chords- which best express
those inward :feelings. If it. iii a ,hymn,-4
prhise and thanksgiving.". you :Will employ
those - bolder strains, which. indiCate 'joy and
confidence in God .
It is miportant I sheuld, remind yoti that a
feeling 'conviction of the beauty and eiiixtllcdce
of the kentiments contained in the liyinna4hat•
are used, will give a spirit and' expression , to
your singing, which mere art can, OPUr sup.
ply. It is not Merely aingirig'• the,rintes e'er.
reedy—it is having .the soulaffected and itn
'hued with the truths you sing: which Will
produce the moat powerful and' impressive
music. ' _ _
As it is the expression-oflntellect and of the
affections.of the heart, spread over the canvass
which' gives such 'interest and charms to ton pic-
Lure, so it is the expression of the soul, yens.
fused into the notes we'sing- which gives such
effect to the human
,voice. But Lo tramituse
this expiession of the soul; Weninst feel: and
to feel as we ought. we must- have a just diar
cerument of the excellence 'and importance, of
the subject of our song. . -
' Let us suppose that one of the 'great profes
sors of - music,.Handel.llaydn, or Mozart, un
der the influence of penitential, feelings,. had
sung the 51st Psalm, what soft, what tender
and plaintive intonations of voice would have
been heard. No one could have listened, to
his notes without being melted into teat's.
Had either of them, under the lively inipres
mons of dependence. or gratitude to Hod. sung.
the 100th Psalm, what deep ,self-abasement, ,
what. solemn awe, and what holy joy.. rising
to raptures of ecstacy,•would have been felt
while listening to the sentiments thus ex
pressed. •
-4. It is important that you should sing with
melody in your hearts to the Lord.
You are all sensible how harsh and grating
discords are in music. It is a solemn, but it
may prove a profitable interrogation: How
will the ears of the Deity be pleased with the
expression of the lips ,whieh are at variance
with the feelings of the heart ? Will He he
pleased witlithe notes of penitence, if the heart
be impenitent ? with the voice' of joy and
thanksgiving, if the heart be nut susceptibleef
one grateful emotion Oh, how important,
how desirable, that the heart and the voice
should chord ! When this is the case, how
sweet, hoti• acceptable the praise!! -
CROSSING RAILROAD TRACKS. —T he Philaclet
phia Ledger, to sho* the hazard in crossing
railroad tracks, particularly in vehicles, pub
lishes the following :
A railroad car, at the ordinary speed of
traveling. moves about twice its own length in
a second of time—about twenty-four feet.
this velocity the locomotive drawing - Wheels,
six feet in diameter, make four revolutions per
second.
If a man with a horse and carriage Was
crossing a railroad track at a *peed of sii miles
an hour, and an express train should be ap
proaching at the moment, it would advance
toward him two hundred and -fifty-seven feet,
while be was in the actor crossing a distance
hartly sufficient to clear the horso and vehicle.
Should the horse cross the track at the usual
gait of a walk, the train would move towards
him, while in the act of crossing, over five bun
dled feet.
•
ire'llutiesty is the best of policy.
-
NO. .3G. 9 fl
.