UNB
ERICAN
H. B. MASSER, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
OFFICE, MARKET STREET, OPPOSITE THE POST OFFICE.
Cl jramlla iietospapcr Dcbotei to Volutes, aittrnturr, ilioraUis, jrorcfjtn nnfc Domrstfc ilctos, science ana the arts, Slcrfeulturr, ittarfcets, amusements, tc.
NEW SERIES VOL. 1, NO. 14.
SUjNHUUY, NOH'L'JI UMBEItLANl) COUNTY, PA., SATURDAY, JUNE s, 1851.
OLD SERIES VOL. II, NO, 40.
RY
AM
TERMS OF THE AMERICAN.
TIIR AMRK1CAM ft piililWtwl wry tMturdny ot
TWO DOJ.I.AH8 mt ciiitiitiii to he pant Imlf yearly in
avBiice. t) impel ilmconliuiMti umu all orri;uruH tin
pan! .
All cimmnnk'Httnim Deleft on iMinitirtti rrlrttiiig t
tti office, to insure Httciitn'ii, mint lie l'(JST 1'AlU.
TO CIA lid.
Thrttcnniet lo one fuMrcsn, Mini
Peven 1- Do in 00
Fifteen l)o 1. SIMH)
Five dollar In nitvnnre will pay for three yetii'n iuh
cripuoii to tJif Ainciictui.
One rour rf 10 lines, .1 times, $ 1 00
Kvrtv sulmcQiient in rtion, ii5
One 6'iiutre, J niuiitJn, 3iM)
Six month, Tu
One year, Aim
rtunint'iH Cnnta f Five lines, per nmttitn, Umi
Mercliuuis unci nthuri, mlverLiHhiit In the
year, with the privikjie of iiiHerting
iifforent RiU'eitiscineiitK weekly. 10 00
bargei Adverli-R'nienif , a per ngrecmenl.
H. B. lA3SE?k,
A T T O It N 13 Y AT I. A W ,
SUITBUHV, PA.
B usinoss attended to in the Counties of Nor
thumberland, Oiion, I.ycoinin:; and (,'oluinliiu.
Hcl'rr lot
'. & A. Hovmidt, "1
Lower & Iiarrnu, j
( ooincrs & .-Mioderass, ; l'ltilad.
1 Holds, McF":irl;illil fc Co.,
iSpi'i-ins, (iooil & Co.,
NEW ST0HE AT HOLLOWING RUN.
Al the Crvts Uoinls. near .. 1). Conrads,
Lower Aimosta.
.1. It. KA1W.MAN
RKSl'EfM'l'TI.T.V informs his friends and
tlio puUic: generally, that lie haH just loeeiv
td nnd opened u nrw slock of poods, which lie
nw oilers for sale on the most reasouuhlc terms.
His stock consist in part of
MCtl AS
Cloths, Cassimeres, Satttnctls, Merinos, i'c.
Hummer wear of all kinds .Muslins, Calicoes,
(.ingliuins. Cheeks, &c.
AI.SO:
An assortment of Hardware of all kinds, most
generally in use.
A I.st):
("1 roperies of all Kinds,
Ai Sugar, Coffee, Ten, Molasses, Spirits, ee.
AI.sO: Ijurcnswarc and Crockery ware, a
full assortment.
Also Silk Hats, Chip Hats, and Straw Mats.
AI.SO: All assortment of Liquors, vis:
Buandv. Wink, Wiiiskkv, &u.
Besides a variety of other articles, most gener
ally used and in want by farmers and other per
sons, nil of which he will sell to purchasers at a
saving often per cent, hy culling on him.
All kinds of produce taken in exchange for
goods lit the highest market price.
Hollowing Hull, April iti, IS.jI. tf.
SPRING AND SUMMER CLOTHING.
EVEHYUODV should embrace this opportu
nily to huy CI.OTlll.NtJ for .Men, Voulh
nnd Boys, at sueh prices as have never yet heen
known 'in this Cilv, nl WriOKt'lO CKU.VS
i:LO'1'H1M: EiSTABI.Isill.MKNT, South-Ihist
Corner of .Market and Second Streets, l'hiladul
phia, cmhraeiug a choice of the best, most desira
ble, and fashionable
DRESS AND FROCK COATS,
Habit Cloth do., I.inen Drilling do.. Tweeds,
&e., &c, together with a great variety of
Boys' Clothing,
Consisting of Sack Coals, I'olka Jar .. ts. Mon
key Jackets, Vests and liound Jackets made of
Tweed, l.iuen Drilling, Cloth, Alpaeca, Kersa
inier, Doeskin. &r., eve.
Puiticulur care has hrcn taken to procure the
new styles lor .Men and Boys' Summer Coats,
I'antuloons, Vests, etc., to which he would invite
Hpecial attention.
Furnishing floods,
Consisting of Shirts. Slocks, Handkerchiefs, Ac.;
all of which are ollered at the louvt i'omiUt
task l'rires, nnd as cheap as any other Clothing
Store in the I'uiou.
J'urents who desire Boys' Ci.uraiNO arc ear
nestly invited to examine the Stock.
Country Storekeepers can he accommodated at
very low rates.
CF.OIJOK Cl'I.IX,
S. E. Corner of Sreou,l .y Market Sts. J'liita.
April 19, 1851. If.
TO ADVERTISERS.
Yoa are respectfully informed, that
C. PIERCE,
General Advertisin0; Newspaper Agent,
has Tin: A(ii-:xcY
For ell pipers generally in Hit U. Stales.
A UVKUTISKUS can always see their adier
jftt. tiscincnls when puhlished, as he wishes to
keep regular (ila of all papers he udverlises in.
From his experience wilh Newspapers in adver
tising in cilv ami country, advertisers would find
it to their interest to consult wilh him upon the
tiuhjecl. C. J'lliUCK,
Gen. Advertising Agt., Bulletin Building.
Philadelphia, April lu, IH51. ly.
NATIONAL HOTEL
SHAMOKIN,
Northumberland County, Fa.
THE subscriber respectfully informs his friends
and the public generally, that he has open
ed a new Hotel in the town of Shainokin, Aor
tuuniberland county, on the corner of Shainokin
aad Commerce streets, nearly opposite to the
House he formerly kept. He is well prepared to
accomiinHlale his guests, and is also provided
with good stabling. He trusts his eicricnce,
and strict attention to business, will induce per
tons visiting the coal region to continue the lib
eral patronage lie has heretofore received.
WILLIAM WEAVER.
PUamokin, April 19, 1851) tf.
JAMES II. MAG EE
HAS removed from his old bland, Mo, 118
Vine street, to
Afo. 52 Diltwyii St., (fcefi Cul'hill If Willow,)
where he has constantly on hand,
BROWN STOUT, PORTER,
Ale and Cider,
FOR HOME CONSUMPTION OR SHIPPING.
N. B Coloring, Bottling, Wire and Bottle,
Vinegar, &e. For sale as above.
Philadelphia, April 12, 1851. ly.
ycoming Mutual Insurance Company.
DR. J. U. MASSER is the local agont for the
abov. Insurance Company, in Northumber
land county, and is at all time ready to ull'ect
Insurances against fire oil real or personal pro.
party, or renewing policies fur the same.
Sunbury, April 1851 tf.
JUSTICES' FEE BILLS. For sale by
H. B. MASSER
iSunbury, April 26, 1651
SELECT POETRY.
My Boyhood's Home.
DV EH VEST H. WALTON.
Biino back my boyhood's rohk'ii liouis
From the: liensury of the past :
Oh iiiiiri.T nijxh ! life's (iisl J-piing lluwots,
That fadi'il 'lorn tin) blast ;
Tho rocky cliff, Iho hill mul jjlmi,
Thn joy anil latichler free;
1 would I were n boy a njznin
Oh bring them back lo nie.
Biintf back tny ratty chihlhoml's home
The altar and lh lieanh,
Tim fono of praise ilevol ion's tone
The lovM that llcil fiom earlh ;
The (lays Unit (lilterl hy !n fast,
Lite's stiiainlets to ils sea,
Which lien deep buried in the Past ;
Oh briny them back to inc.
In Fancy's realms 1 wander still
By tny boyhood's cbeiished home,
Ami fjalher Jlow'rs by brook or riil,
Ami over wooillaiHls roam ;
Oh linger niah ! ihonyh visions dim
And shadows faint ye be
Tho' tilled life's chalice to the brim,
Yet biing them back to me !
My Childhood's Home. ,
ii v k.milv c;i:Hiia iiK macaliif.
Citttc; back the ilays, the sunny bonis,
Ol Ihooil's thonohlless jrlee ;
The placed slteam, the opening llowers
Oh bi iii". 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 back lo me.
The tnnoiilide walks the hollowed eve,
The loved, the lust that blow
On which love sat like sunset's leave
Oh biing them to me now.
Where is my home my girlhood's home,
Of sweetness ? lias it lied I
Alas! :tis oone ihe joyous tone
OI its loved cadence dead.
IJiiiiL' me the happy scenes, w hich there
Passed like a summer's dream
The sofl'uino; tints of memory,
lire soiiow o'er mo came.
Oli ! let me dream 1 see it si ill,
With biid and sun ami flower ;
'Twill serve lo soothe a treasured will
In this sad, trying hour.
Home id' my youth farewell, farewell !
Once I did hail your alee :
Painful nss the bosom's swell
Oh bri"j:s it still lo me.
3, Select alc.
Frui "K'iza CkA V Juuriml.
THE PAINTER'S SECRET.
ii v n:i:cv n. sr. joii.w
Charles Dtipont dwelt in one of those
numerous small apartments which form the
summit of nearly all hotels or mansions in
Paris. He was a youtisi man about twpnty,
and as lie stood at his garret window in the
light of the summer's, sun, smoking, as ar
tists are wont to smoke, a short pipe, he
looked handsome, and, for many women,
captivating. He was pale, thin, and in-telleetual-lonkin;;,
with long hair, inusta
chios, and beard. To an indifferent ob
server, he presented (lie aspect of one who :
was simply indulturr in the pleasures of :
tobacco smoke ; hut such was not the case. '
The house he occupied ran round three
sides ol a square court, the lburlh being j
taken up by the wall of the next bouse.
On the opposite side of the court, on the
same floor as that occupied by himself, 1
was the apartment of a work-girl. This
youiifr person was remarkably pretty, and ,
had been often remarked by the young ar- j
list, with at first only the admiring eye of j
a painter, but afterwards with more tender,
interest.
She was a very industrious girl. She j
rose early, almost with the sun, and went j
to bed lu'.e, as the young artist knew, for
he often noticed her candles burning until i
midnight. Almost alone in the world,
without friends, save a few students like !
himself, Charles Dupoiit felt irresistibly j
drawn towards that happy, smiling face, I
which had so often formed the charm ol j
his garret-window. Of late, the young
man seemed unusually fond of smoking. ,
livery moment not taken up by his art j
was occupied in inhaling the fragrance of I
the Indian weed. lie scarcely ever went
out now, his walki in search of scenery '
were abandoned, and he never joined his i
more noisy companions at those public I
estuminets, where the young hopes of '
France spend their hours in playing bil- '
liards, cards, dominoes ; in drinking un- '
numbered glasses of beer, and in blackening 1
short clay pipes a perfect science in the i
city of Paris. But then Charles Dupont j
was in love, and much as the cold-heat teiL
and worldly may sneer, the influence of
this passion, when sincere and pure, is al-
ways beneficial to a young man. The I
change it produced in Charles was that al- j
ways incident to elevated and superior i
minds, generally the simplest. He had no i
care now for noisy pleasures. His dream'
was to be near the unknown idol of his
heart, to sit by her, to read to her, to talk
to her, and as these could not be, he was
satisfied to gaze on her, from a distance.
Plans upon plans were laid by the young
man to make the acquaintance of his fair
mistress; but, like all sincere lovers, in the
outset, he was timid. He remarked with
pleasure, that she had very few visitors,
and those always ol her own sex. None
ever escaped his jealous eye, who entered
that room, and he never saw a man enter
it. Charles sighed, however, deeply, for
he too saw no chance of making his way to
the side of his beloved.
One day, it was in the month of May,
the young girl stood at her window, put
ting some pretty flowers in water. She
was dressed better than usual, and had got
up a little later. Charles Dupont was
more struck than ever by the sweet smile
that sat upon her face, and by her really
singular beauty. An idea flashed across
his mind. He took oS bit working blouse,
passed his hand through his hair, took his
hat, and went out of his room, locking the
door behind him. He moved rapidly and
boldly to the door of the young girl.
Once in front of it he halted. Charles
was brave; and would have defended a
barricade wilh cool determination ; but
here he hesitated. Mustering courage,
however, he knocked gently. The mo
ment he had done so, he would have given
the world to have been away, and his
heart beat so violently he could almost
hear ils throbhings.
'What is it I ran do for Monsieur V
Coul 111.. I'niniir nrli'l cn'Ki.r ntnl 1 t n .v
' as on opening the door she recognized her
handsome neighbor the arti-t.
'Mademoiselle,' said Charlps, with con
siderable hesitation, I fancied by your
flowers and your dress, that to-day was
your file. 1 am your neighbor and I
thought I might take the liberty to come
and wish you a happy one.'
'.Monsieur is very good. We are old
neighbors, it is true, though we have never
spoken '
'It has not been for the want of wishing
on my part,' exclaimed the artist, eagerly.
The young girl looked at Charles.
There was so much modesty, resigned and
respectful affection in the expression of his
face, that she could not for a moment con
found him with the usual mas3 of young
men, who caught by her pretty face had
sought to make her acquaintance. She
held out her hand.
'Since we are neighbors, let us be friends,'
said she.
'Oh, thank you,' exclaimed Charles,
with a burst of genuine gratitude. 'Mad
emoiselle, you do mi? good. 1 have no
friends. I scarcely ever see a human face
which has any sympathy for trie. If Mad
emoiselle would only let me paint her
portrait, it woulJ give me so much pleas
ure.' 'But, Monsieur, it would be encroaching
on your goodness,' replied Constance, who,
however, looked excessively pleased.
'You accept, then ?'
Why, Monsieur I never had my portrait
painted. How rou! I 1 refuse '.'
'We would begin to-day; but this is
your frlc. Would Mademoiselle allow
me the honor of taking her out for a walk ?'
Constance, afler a moment's hesitation,
accepted. When one is young, one makes
friends so easily, especially in Trance;
and then Charles had the talent of making
himself liked by every body. He entered
her little room, so neat, so clean, so pretty
it made him sigh, as he ctuupared it with
his own bachelor den, where no woman's
hand hail for many months disturbed either
dust or cobwebs. In ten minutes Con
stance was ready. She put on a nice bon
net and a neat shawl, the fruits of her in
dustry, nnd then tripped down stairs, hap
py os a bird, for we may as well reveal a
secret. Constance had fur more than a
month longed as much to. make the pah
young arti.-i's acquaintance, as he had to
make hers.
They made for the Boulevards mechani
cally, as every body does, followed them
somedistatjce, crossed the magnificent Place
de la Concorde, I he finest l'lan- in the world,
entered the Champs Klysees, and by com
mon consent made for the Dois de Bou
logne. It was a lovely day. But though
they had both seen many such, yet they
thought they never had. They scarcely
spoke. They walked arm in arm, side by
tide, and in the wood hand-in-hand. Once
Charles asked Constance if she enjoyed
herself.
'I am so happy,' she replied, raising her
dove-like eyes beaming with happiness to
wards him.
There was something in the words, in
the look, which made the young man's
heart beat with intense emotion. Thus
passed the day in occasional conversation,
in constant walking until both felt hun
gry. They then entered the house of a
humble liai cur, and the young artist offer
ed his fair friend a very plain dinner, but
which neither would have exchanged for
the feasts of the Palais-National. Happy
age! happy feelings! happy Charles! hap
py Constance !
Towards dusk they returned lo Paris,
and the young man insisted, on the occa
sion ol the girl's file, upon taking her to
the theatre. They selected a moderate
priced seal, and here again, the thing be
ing rare to both, enjoyed themselves ex
ceedingly. On leaving the theatre they
walked quietly home and parted, to think
with rapture on tin happiest day which
either had ever yet spent.
The acquaintance so pleasantly made
was continued. Every morning they nod
ded to one another from their windows,
and about mid-day, Constance gave the ar
tist a sitting. Several times, too, Charles
brought in sketches to show her, and then
in the evening he would get books from a
cnliintl Je lecture and read to her. Kvery
day their happiness seemed to increase.
They learned each other's good qualities.
Charles was well-educated, well-read, with
a fund of anecdotes, and rich stores of
knowledge. Constance knew little, but
she was an apt scholar. She had a quick
intelligence, a noble nnd generous heart,
and she was poor and innocent as a child.
For some weeks the lovers, for such
they now were, went on happier each day
than the last. The portrait made little pro
gress, because Constance could spare little
time, and because Charles talked more than
he painted. Still it went on. At the
end, however, ot a month, Constance re
marked that Charles was paler than usual,
that his spirits seemed gone, that he brought
no book in the evening, and went away
early to bed. She questioned him, poor
girl, for she was deeply anxious. She,
feared that he was falling ill, that he was
going to die, and then, poor orphan child
what was to become of her. For Con
stance loved him dearly, as women only
lovo men who ar above the common mass
men of mind and intellect, though women
who can love such men are more rare and
precious than aught else in the world.
She watched narrowly the painter's face,
and the wild eye and haggard looks made
her see that the sufferings of Charles were
more mental than anything else. The
mind was ill at ease. She ollered to go in
and work in his room, while he painted,
but he stammered out some excuse, and
declined. It was clear that he had a secret,
and woman's curiosity was at once at wor!c.
She questioned him, she coaxed, she was
cross with him, hut all in vain, he returned
but vague answers to all she said. Con
stance became uneasy ; what could be the
matter ? lie became paler every day, and
came less to see her. One day she heard
him leave his room and go hurriedly down
stairs. She ran out to speak to him, to ask
when he would come back, but he was
gone. His key was in his door. Moved
by an irresistable influence she entered his
room. It was a miserable garret, contain
ing nothing save a lew paintings and the
mattress on the floor. Not a chair, not a
fable, nothing in the shape of clothes or
food. Constance rushed out of the room,
turned the key, gained her own lodgings,
threw herself on her bed and sobbed aloud.
Charles was starving. A few pawn-broker's
tickets lying on the mautle-piece had
more than anything else convinced her of
this fact.
The pain and suffering now pndured by
Constance is not to be described. Her
feelings were worked up to an intense
pitch of excitement. Far from finding her
aflection lessened at the discovery of the
student's poverty, she found it much in
creased. An unearth r interest seemed
now attached to the name ol Charles.
She felt his talents to he great, and in her
heart was sort! that he would rise to com
petence. But at that moment he was
clearly starving. What was she to do?
She would have rushed lo him, have told
htm all, and hid htm share her humble
meal, use hr little savings, and thus sain
time lo work, but she feared to wound his
pride. He had hitherto kept his own sec
ret, he therefore wished hissufleririgs to be
concealed from her. In vain she thought
of any project for relieving his misery,
without betraying her full knowledge of it.
The poor girl wept bitterly at her own
want of inventive genius.
At last however, an idea flashed across
her mind. She caught up some work she
had finished the night before, and putting
it in a neat parcel, hurried down stairs,
taking with her also the half-finished por
trait of herself by Charles. She gained
the street, and made her way towards the
habitation of a lady for whom she had been
working. Madame Pellissier was a young
widow, rich, courted, and happy. Wilh
every luxury and comfort around her,
which wealth could give, she deserved her
well-beinrr, for she made good use of it.
Fond ol pleasure, she was pvpii still fonder
of giving pleasure to others. Many were
the poor families which owed to her re
lief from misery nnd despair. Madame
IVIissier would always give up the most
charming day's amusement, to find out the
details of some tale of sorrow which had
been told her ; nnd she felt, when her
morning had been thus profitably spent
that the afternoon passed more gayly, more
quickly, more delightfully than usual.
Welcome, Constance, she said as the
work-girl was ushered into her breakfast
room. I was waiting impatiently for you.
My cousin Pierre is coming to take me lor
a drive in the Bois de Boulogne by and bv,
and I want to wear that cloak, which no
doubt you have made charmingly.'
'I hope it will please you, Madame,' re
plied Constance, taking a proffered seat.
'What is that you have in that square
parcel, child and why are you out of
breath and so pale ''
'It is a whole history,' said Constance,
lowering her eyes upon the ground.
'Let me have it. You know I am vastly
curious. Take this cup of chocolate, and
tell it me at once.'
Constance, taking courage from the
emergency, told, in ns few words as possi
ble, her history. She narrated how she
made the acquaintance of the painter, and
then how, after nearly a month's delay she
had found out his secret. Madame Pelis
sier listened wilh rapidly awakened inter
est. 'And what would you have me do,
child ." said she, when the young girl had
told her story.
'Madame, Charles Dupont is very proud.
Relief in money he would not receive, hut
if you, would only be so good ns to sit for
your portrait to him, you would add deeply
to that debt of gratitude which Constance
already owes you.'
'With pleasure,' cried the young w idow.
'But it seems the case is pressing. Cive
me his address, and I will send round to
him at once. But I cannot pay him for
the portiait until it be finished, lias he
any thing I can buy of him?'
'He has several little pictures in his
room, replied Constance, in a tone of deep
emotion.
'Go homp, child, and be satisfied. My
cousin shall ride alone to-day. I will
write round to your protege ut oncx.'
'But, Madame, not a word of me.'
'Never fear, Constance, I know your
good little heart,'
About an hour later, Charles was crouch
ing on his mattress, his hands covering his
face in mute despair, when a knock came
to the door. He started, rose, opened the
door about two inches, and received from
the Cerberus of the house a letter, fiap
idly shutting himself in, he read the per
fumed missive. It was a polite note from
Madame Pellissier, intimating her wish for
him to call upon her at once with the ne
cessary materials for commencing a por
trait, she had the canvas ready, and adding
desire to see any finished paintings he
might have on, hanj,
A radiant smile of joy passed over the
face of the young artist. It was not, how
ever, the ptospect of relief from misery t
it was not the chance of a career, of hav
ing money. Such things have but little
influence over the mind of the artiste,
whether poet, paintpr, or author. Much
is said of the improvidence and deserved
poverty of literary men ; but the calcula
ting and sordid minds of their ordinary
judges are not able to understand that spir
its such as theirs cannot bend to mpre ma
terial details. Their souls are so constitu
ted that olten their misery is a happiness.
It awakens strange thought and reflection.
Not to have suflered is not to have lived.
And then when the artiste who has suffer
ed long, has money, if he were to spend
as your careful, prudent men would, he
would 03 lief not have it. The plotting
and inlriguinsr necessarv to make the most
of it would destroy all the pleasure of hav
ing. He must enjoy it, though fully aware
that the day of suffering must come again.
Now Charles, one of those beings in whom
mind is more powerful than mailer, re
joiced in his month's starvation. It had
shown him the heart of his beloved, and he
would not have starved for all the wealth
the world can give. Noble and generous
hearts are not rare, especially among the
divine sex, which God created to compen
sate man for every ill in life, but still they
are not found at every step. Charles knpw
he was certain, that he owed his present
good fortune to Constance ; and hence his
joyful and happy smile.
l ie made himself as neat and clean as he
could, took two small paintings which he
had just finished, in the hope of finding a
purchaser, and started for the Rue de Ilel-
der, where resided Madame Pellissier.
He was agreeably surprised to find a young
and elegant Paris lady, who received him
with aflabilily, examined his two small
paintings with remarks which showed a
cultivated tastp and judgment, and then in
timated her wish to keep them. Charles
very thankfully acquiesced, and then spoke
of the portrait.
'Well, M. Dupont, you may commence
Ibis morning, if you please, but I have a
peculiar notion, nnd that is, that artists
hould know a little of the person they are
about to paint, to do it well. I flatter my
self that you would be far more effective in
your likeness, if you always commenced
by an hour's conversation with the sitter.'
Charles smilingly agreed that the young
widow's theory was a very plausible one,
and entered into a very animated discus
sion with her on his own art, which he
soon P.)iind she had studied very considera
bly. The afternoon elided away very
pleasantly, and when he arose to take
leave, Madame Pellissier put a small pocket-
book in his hand, pointing at the same
limp to the two pictures.
Charles blushed, as the high-souled ai-
tiste always does on receiving money from
such as Leonie Pe!isier, but accepted the
welcome payment with thanks and a bow.
I he first sitting was then fixed for the fol
lowing Monday, and our hero hurried
away towards his home. He went not to
Ins own room, he went to that of Con
stance. He knocked onicklv, she opened.
He rushed in, caught her in his arms, and
imprinted on her lips and cheeks and fore
head a dozen kisses.
'Charles, are you mad ? What is the
matter? Will you he quiet ?'
My beloved Constance, I am so happy,
and I know it is your doing. I have sold
my pictures, and I have a portrait to paint.
Hut, sly girl that you are, you forgot that
only last Sunday you told me all about
Madame Pellissier.
'You nre not offended, Charles '
Olfended my dear little wife '
Your wife, Charles. I dare not hope
for that. An artist, a great artist, for you
will be one, cannot marry a poor work-
girl. 1 see now how wrong 1 have been.
But I never thought of the future. I am
happy in your society, nnd I forget.'
'Constance, there is but one joyous hope
in this heart, and that is the hope to see
you my wife. Without you there is no
future for me. Constance, why do so many
youthful geniuses fall hy the way, why do
so many men of promise and greatness die
away unknown, why do so many poetic
and godlrke hearts sink into obscurity, but
that they are alone ? We tirlistcs more
than any man, need a guiding star. Ours
is home work, and (here is no home where
woman is not. How would you have a
a man have patience through the daily
drudgery of his labor, with nought but four
grim walls to gaze at. No, we must have
a voice lo cheer us, an eye to beam on us,
a lip to smile on it, press on ours; and
that voice, that eye, that lip must be the
voice and eye and lip of woman. Con
stance, it is we alone who know what wo
man is, and who alone know her value.
She is not the plaything and toy of the
profligate, the slave and drudge of the sor
did, the obedient serf of the plodding man
of business, but the companion and equal
ol the man of intellect the only real man
amid the world's millions. Constance,
there are angels in the heavens above, and
if, by God's blessing, we are to see them,
our eyes accustomed to see such dulj ob
jects as this world discloses in its ordinary
pictures, would be dazzled by their bright
ness, had we not woman given us to pre
pare our minds easily lor any amount of
beauty in the future spiritual existence.
You, Constance, are my guiding star, my
angel. With you I shall succeed, without
you I shall fail. Alone and unaided I can
not walk. Give me thy hand, be, oh be
my wife.'
What could the tond and loving girl re
ply to this speech to the many a rhapsody
delivered in accents of profound convic
tion, and with eyes that flashed though
brimful of tears! She promised to become
his wife, and then, when the delight of
Charles had a little abated its first vio
lence, they sat down to discuss their plans.
Madame Pellissier had eiven a thousand
i francs (jGIO) for the two pictures, in France,
a most exorbitant price. But then, Mad
ame was an artist herself and paid like
one ; while Charles, modest as he was, set
too high a price upon his own genius, to
he astonished at any thing of the kind.
The lovers very sagely reasoned that in
Paris they might vpry well start in life
with a thousand francs, and they agreed
that they should be married while they
had the money. Constance was an or
phan, and Charles answered for the con
sent of his old mother, his only parent, so
that Ihpy were as happy as ver were two
single-minded beings, who were wise
enough to know that if we cannot find hap
piness in wedded love, we cannot find it at
all.
On the following Monday, Charles paid
a visit to Madame Pellissier. He was now
neatly and cleanly dressed, and though
still pale not so cadaverous-looking as he
had been on the former occasion. The
young widow received him very warmly.
She had been much charmed with him on
the former occasion, and had looked for
ward wilh pleasure to the second sitting.
To the j'oung man's great surprise, she
gave him the addresses of half-a-dozen
friends who desired to avail themselves of
his talents. Charles was overwhelmed
wilh joy. His dream was now rpalized,
and he could support himself and wife by
his art. There was no longer any neces
sity for beginning life in the very humble
way which at first the young couple had
decided on.
'Madame, 1 thank you warmly, both for
myself and Constance.'
'And Constance?' said Madame Pellis.
sier, turning very pale, though without be
ing noticed by the arlist, who was fixing
his easel in a good light.
'Yes, Madame. To her she could not
deny it I owe 'my first start in my pro
fession. I have long loved her, and now
that fortune smiles on me, I mean at once
to make her my wife.'
'You do well and nobly,' said Leonie,
with a very sickly smile ; and then she
added to herself, 'Thank God, he has spo
ken so plainly. I certainly have taken a
very strange liking to him, but crushed so
early it will not take root. Courage, my
woman's heart.'
'1 am ready, Madame.'
'And I am al your disposition,' exclaim
ed Leonie, gayly, and .Iho sitting commen
ced. The young widow, who, with a warm and
generous heart, was peculiarly open to a ro
mantic passion, had certainly found her feel
ings lean very strongly towards Charles Du.
pont. Hul ns she hail no intention of rival
ling poor Constance, she, thus suddenly
cheeked, succeeded at once in mastering
what was as yet a mere growing inclination
She felt rather proud of being able to do so,
nnd promised herself genuine satisfaction in
witnessing the happiness of tho young cou-
pie. iiie artist was eminently successtul in
his portrait of I.eouio. Kinployment from
that day was not wanting, and at tho end of
a month Charles and Constance were mar
ried. Thpy were happy, and still are hap
py, for they lovo one another. I have sel
dom seen a more delightful menage than
theirs. Tho selfish and cold sneer at love
matches, but they confound them wilh passion-matches.
Marriage is a huge falsehood
when not founded on ali'ectioti, ami real af
fection is a thing which is tested only by
time. If it lasis, it is real ; if it cease to ex
ist, it was never genuine. la this instance
it wa evidently tine, for afler six years of
wedded life, the lovers were as happy, if
nol happier, than they wcio at first.
to rLotuii in i.ovrit.
.Those who have iindeitaken lo plow in
green ciops, know the diliicully frequently
attending tho operation, on account of the
liability of the plow to be clogged, ami tho
vegetable matter being left uncovered. A
correspondent of the Ameiieau Farmer gives
the following description of a contrivance he
has adopted, which is stated to answer tho
purpose completely : Saw off a block from
some hard, durable, and heavy wood ; say
about ten inches long, and ihreo or four in
ches in diameter ; then tako a piece of trace
chain, about three feet long, confine ono end
to the block, by driving a staple in tho end,
having first past Iho staple through tho cud
link of tho chain. Point the other end of
the block, and attach a large chain in the
same manner to that. Tie the shuil chain
(attached to the aquaie end of tho block,) to
the rod which passes ilumigh the mould
board, ami beam of the plough, by wrapping
it around the beam ut that place ; drop tho
block in the bottom of die furrow which has
been already opened, (of couiso on lha
mould-board 6hle,)diaw up tho long chain,
and attach that to tho clevis ; be sure that
you have both chains just tight enough to
permit the block to lie. in the furrow ; allow
no slack. The shoit chain gathers tho clo
ver, weed, &c, and bends them down ; the
weight of block prevents the chain from
raising, and the plough laps the dirt over
the weeds, while they are in a recumbent
position. 1 am this day turning over weeds
as high as the heads of the ploughmen, who
are almost wholly concealed.
Two young ladies promouaded our streets
yesterday with short dresses and wide, or
Turkish trowsers. The new style is said
ta look exceedingly well, and it is bound
to prevail. Fort Wayne (la.) Timet.
Three genteel looking ladies, dressed in
the new Turkish costume, passed through
our city on Saturday. The dress was gieat
ly admired by all who saw it. Toledo
Blade
THE PAST.
We are reviving ih -. r .u ...
'th.,.Ln!LbUtw.e..mByno1 Coverall
j -mow. aii record of their knowl
edge ha, passed away foretcr ver
the age of modern langaagP) wr;,len anJ
punted, ha. come in, w are frequently fall.
ng on .he traces of old discoveries, which
had been neglected or fornotten. Tk tu
- c names
runnel was thought to be an entirely new
manifestation of engineering genius; but the
discovety of an ancient tunnel under the wido
mouth of the harbor at Marseilles, n f-,
years ago, showed that Iho ancients were be
forehand with us. The other day, a monu.
script of Pa pin, the inventor of the 'D;
came lo light, showing that he had discovered
metnoils ol deadening pain, and that chloro
form is no new thing: ihe name of the new-
lydiscovercd tieati.se is "Traite des Onera.
lions sans doulevr." In like manner, at a
saleol a library in Paris, the other day, there
urneu up a dusty old manujciipt, entitled,
"A treatise on Electricity applied to the trans-
.mMm or iicir.," and bearing Ihe date of
una. l tie uuthor's name was Lesage j le
was a physician, the son of a Frenchmen set.
tied in Swiizerland. It is said that in I77J
electric, telegraph was composed of twenty-
our separate wires, answering 0 the twenty
four letters of the alphabet. This apparatus,
all imperfect as it was. is averred in b.-iu.
contained and illustrated the principle of tha
which is now in such general use. There is
also every reason to believe, from the follow
ing extract fiom the works of Fiiar Bacon,
who flourished in the thirteenth century,
long before the invention of printing, that
the application of steam to mechanical pur
poses was quite well known to him. But
whether he derived his knowledge, of such a
power from tradition, handed down from
those who had lost or forgotten Ihe practical
use of steam, or arrived at it though original
investigations of his own, it is impossible for '
ns now to know. The modern inventions of
the steamship, the railway locomotive, tho
hydraulic machine, and the divingbell, seem
to be quite distinctly referred to in lha fol
lowing passage, which is of very curious interest-
"I will now," he says, "mention
same of the wonderful works of art and na
ture, in which there is nothing of magic, and
which magic could not perform. Instru
ments may be made, by which the larnest
ships, with only one man nuidinr them, will
be carried wilh greater velocity than if they
were full of sailors. Chariots mav be con
structed, that will move wilh incredible ra.
puuiy, without the help ot animals. Instru
ments of flvinri mav bo formed.' in which
man, sitting at his ease, and meditating on
o
any subject, may beat the air with his artifi
cial wings, after the manner of birds. A
small instrument may b made to raise or
deptcss the greatest weights. An instrument
may be fabricated, by which ono man mav
draw a thousand men to him by force and
against their will; as also, machines which
will enable men to walk at the bottom ot
seas or livers, without danger," We have
certainly discovered, or revived it may be,
the steamship, tho locomotive, tho hydraulio
machine, tho atmospheric railway, and the
diving-bell; but one old patent we cannot
get up, for wo cannot fly. A'. A. MisceU
lany.
PilOTKCTION OF COWS AGAINST FLIES. As
tho fly '-season" is approaching, 1 am re
minded of a discovery I have made, (which
should be public before,) lo prevent the an
noyance of co.vs by dies while milking. It
is simply blanketing. A blanket should bo
piovidud for each milker, of such ample di
mensions that ii will cover the whole animal
falling down as low as the knees, with the
tight corner scolloped out for the milker.
Make a loop for the horns. It may be made
of any metorial, but coarse cottons being tho
cheapest ami lightest recommend them
selves. Animals unused lo blanketing wilt
of course at first demur, but by gentleness
or slight coercion, they soon become as gen
llo to the spreading of the blanket as they
are lo the approach of the milker. Try it
' it woiks like a charm." Cultivator.
Capti'bg of a Sf.a-Cov. Messrs. Clark
and Burnham lately succeeded in capturing
a sea-cow near Juniper Inlet, Florida. The
animal was caught in a net, was a male, and
nine feet three inches iu length. They suc
ceeded in taking it alive, and shipped it to
Charleston for exhibition. It was very wild
when first captured, but soon became quite
tame, and nlo freely of grass, &o. Its tail is
in iho shape of a fan, and is two feel five
inches broad. It has no hind feet ; its fore
feel are similar to those of a turtle, and it
has nails like those of a human hand, but no
claws. It mouth and nose resemble those
of a cow ; it has teeth on Ihe lower jaw,
but not one on lha tipper. A female was
also taken, but it was so large, and, becom
ing entangled in the net, mude such desper
ate exertions to escape, that ihe captors
were compelled to shoot it. They preserved
the skin, however, which was fifteen feet
long. Living Age.
We congiamlate two young ladies of this
villago Miss Partridge ami Miss llenshaw
as ihe first lo inlroJuce the Turkish female
costume in our publio promenades. They
made their debut yesterday afternoon, and
alliaelod great attention. We admired the
dies exceedingly. H'atertown A'. Y.) let
fersoiiian.
Sal Vouatil or HarUhorn will restore
color taken out by acids. It may be drop
ped on the silk without doing any injury.