BV CiEO. W. BOWttAV NEW SERIES. Select soet rn. The l!ui'iiiii£ slii| at Mea. BY SEI'.A SMITH. The nicht was clear and mild, And the breeze went softly by, And the stars of Heaven smiled As they wandered up the sky ; And they rode a gallant ship on the wave— But many a hapless wiht Slept the 'leep of death that night, And before the morning light Found a grave ! All were sunk in soft repose Save the watch upon the deck ; Not a boding dream arose Of the horrors of the wreck To the mother, or the child, or the sire; Till a shriek of woe profound, Like a death-knell echoed round, With a wild and dismal sound— A shriek of "fire!" Now the flames are spreading fast— With resistless rage they fly, t'p the shrouds and up the mast, Are flickering to the sky; Now the deck i- in a bla/.e ; now the rails— There's no place to rest their feet, Fore and att the torches meet. And a winged lightning sheet Are the sails. No one heard the c ry of woe, Cut the <ea-bird that Hew by; There was hurrying to and fro, But no hand to save was nigh ; rstili before the burning foe they were driven— Last farewells were uttered there, With a wild and frenzied stare, AnJ a short and broken prayer Sent to Heaven ! Some leap over 111 the flood To the death that waits them there! Others quench the flames with blood, And expire in open air; iiome, a moment to escape from the grave, On the bow.prit take a stand ; Hut their death is near at hand— Soon they hug the burning brand On the wave. From bis brimy ocean-bed When the morning sun awoke, T.o! the gallant ship had fled! And a sable clomi of smoke Was the monumental pyre that remained; But the sea-gulls round it fly, With a quick and fearful cry. And the brands that floated by Blood had stained. MV MOTHERS VOICE. There's music in the autumn wind, Around the dripping eaves; And w here its pinions stop to play. Among the fallen leaves. There's music in the river's flow, Along the pebbly shores When all the winds have gone to sleep. And boughs are swayed no more. There's music in the cricket's song, 1 hear through evening shade, And in the low of distant herds, Returning from the glade. There's music in the household tones Thar greet the -ad or gay, And in the laugh of innocence Rejoicing in its play. But there is music sweeter far In memory than this— 'l he music of my mother's voice Now in the land of biiss. A music time may never still— I hear ir in my dreams, When all the fondness of her face Once more upon me beams. 1 know not what the angels hear, In mansions in the skies— But there is not a sound on earth. Like mother's gentle voice. The tears are in my clouded eye, And sadne-s in my brain, A nature whispers to my heart— She will not come again. A mother! oh, when she departs, Her like is never known; The records of affect ion speak Of only, only one! And brighter will that record grow Through all the changing years— The ol'tener to the lip is pressed The cup of sorrow's tears. U'oxDEcrt r. INSTANCE OF SAGACITY. —We k"ar, says the Sandusky Register, of an instance of sagacity practiced by the elephant attached ♦o Herr Drieshach's Menagerie, which deserves record. Coming into New-wark, 0., last Sat urday, the elephant's keeper fell in a fit from bis horse. The whole menagerie immediately came to a halt, and some members of the com pany went forward to pick up the man. But <he elephant would not allow any person to ap proach the senseless form ofhiaVeeper. Taking him up with his trunk, softly tie would place him on his horse, but finding that the man was senseless, he laid him on the ground, and kept watch over him. Many members of the mena- Cerie tried to soothe the faithful elephant, who bad now become furious at the supposed death ot his master, but to no purpose, and there the man lay watched bv the sagacious animal. Af ter lying in this condition for some time a phy sician, who had iieen sent for, arrived, and vet "'hp elephant would allow no one to approach. At length the keeper became o far conscious M command the elephant to let the physician come near, and the animal was docile obedient 1,0 a moment, and the keeper was property cared Jor—the elephant, all the while, expree®- ogthe utmost anxiety for the sick man. W hat else was this but the exercise of a hu man intelligence, in which pity and affection reason were all undoubtedly blended ? We can almost believe that that animal, at least, has °fa soul, 'tis reason which marks the {'•" '.'••nee of the immortal spark. ?3 cbfo rfr . When Daniel Webster was a law student, lie helped to support his brother Ezekiel, at Col lege, by copying deeds, &.C., while the latter occasionally recruited his finances by school teaching. Under date of Salisbury, N. H. Nov. 4-, 1802, Daniel wrote to Ezekiel as follows : "I have now by me two cents in lawful federal currency. Next week I will send them, if they be all. They will buy a pipe—with a pipe you can smoke, smoking implies wisdom wisdom is allied to fortitude—from fortitude it is but one step to stoicism, and stoicism never pants for this world's goods. So, perhaps, mv two cents, by this process, may put you quite at ease about cash." [The subjoined anecdotes are related by a correspondent of the Boston Transcript.] Soon after Mr. Webster came to the bar he was retained in a suit between two neighbors.— It seemed that they had got to loggerheads about a disputed line, out of which had grown tres j pass suits and all sorts of controversies, and that j the more malicious and artful of the two had so plied the other with law in one shape or a nother, that he had nearly ruined him. The latter at last became aroused, and brought an action against the other for malicious perse ! cution, and retained Mr. Webster to man age it. On the trial, proof of malice was clear and convincing, and it was evident that the day of reckoning had come at last. In summon ing up for the plaintiff, Mr. Webster, after making a strong argument against the defend ant, showing that he had again and again insti tuted suits against his client, merely to perplex and annoy him, closed as follows : "In a word, gentlemen, I do not see how I can better con j elude than in the words ofthe good old psalm." 1 Then, looking at the jury but pointing to the 1 defendant, he repeated from his favorite authors, i Sternhold and Hopkins: He dinged a pit, he digged it deep, He digged it lor his brother. By his great sin, he did fall in, The pit he digged lor t'other. And so it proved. The verdict was heavy against the "digger." In 1852, when the Whig Convention was in session, first came news that General Scott, who was supposed to be a little too prone to display, particularly in plumage, was nominated for the Presidency. Then came news that William A. Graham, of North Carolina, the land of lar, pitch and turpentine, was nominated to the V ice Presidency. When the latter piece of in telligence was conveyed to Mr. W. he was en gaged shaving himself. He stopped, and hav ing heard the news, remarked, in his slow, em phatic manner, as he deliberately wiped his razor: "Well, Ido not see, then, hut that the Whig party have tarred and feathered them selves." It is related of Mr. Webber and Mr. Mason that they were once riding the circuit together in the v\ inter season. The snow was deep and the weather cold, and both were muffled in buffaloes. Mr. Mason was an uncommonly tall man, and Mr. Webster, it is well known, had a very deep voice, amounting at times almost to a growl. On the road, where it was not very easy turning out, they met a bluff countryman, with his ox team, who shook his goad at them and sang out "turn out there—turnout!" They gave him half the track, but he insisted upon the whole, and began to threaten, when Mason began to rise and rise, until he got up six feet and more, and, to the astonished view of the teamster, seemed to be going higher, when Mr. out, in his most bearish man ner, "Turnout yourself, sir!" "Gee, gee," cried the teamster, "why don't you gee ?" put ting the brad into his oxen as he cleared the track lor what, to his astonished vision, appear ed a brace of giants. The latter anecdote reminds me of the case of the gentleman who was riding in a new carriage, when he was saluted by a teamster he was about meeting with an imperative order— "Turnout, there! turn out! or I will serve you as T did the man the other day." Our own er ofthe gay equipage, not caring to risk his carriage in an encounter with an ox cart, took up a position on the extreme right, and waited paitenllv for the horrid despoiler of vehicles to pass, fie could not, however, resist his .curi osity to know what dreadful thing that cartman did do; and so, leaning his head out ofthe car riage, he accosted him with the inquiry, "flow did you serve the man the other day ?" "How did I serve him?" replied the teamster, "why he wouldn't turn out, so I did." The new College at Lanraster was dedicated on the 19th ult. ANECDOTES OF WEBSTER. After having declined a comfortable office, in order to pursue his profi-ssion, Daniel wrote from Salisbury, (on the 10th of June, 1804-,) to his brother, in this wise : "Zeke, I don't be lieve but what Providence will do well for us yet. We shall live, and live comfortably. I have this week come within an ace of being ap pointed Clerk of the Court of Common Pleas, for Hillsborough county. Well, you will say, well you are no better off than if you had not come within an ace. Perhaps I am—say noth ing but think a good deal, an! do not 'distrust the gods." After Daniel had taken up his residence at Portsmouth, and commenced practicing as a young lawyer, he also soon commenced prac ticing as a young lover, by visiting Miss Grace Fletcher. At one of these visits, probably with a view of combining utility and enjoyment, he had been holding skeins of silk thread for Miss Fletcher, when he suddenly stopped, savins, "Grace, we have thus been engaged in untying knots; let us see if we can tie a knot—one which will not untie for a litetime." He then took a piece of tape, and, after beginning a knot of a peculiar kind, gave it to her to complete. This was the ceremony and ratification of their engagement. And now in a little box, marked by him with the words "Precious Documents," containing the letters of his early courtship, this unique memorial is still to be found. The knot has never been untied. FRIDAY MORNING, BEDFORD, PA. JUNE 6, 1856. The Murder at H'illanl's. We have purposely refrained until now froti* alluding to this horrible event. Strongly as we felt, we thought it better not to anticipate the opinion of the press at large. That opinion has been fully and boldly expressed. Ffomoneend of the country to the other, an indignant denun ciation of the brutal perpetrator oJTthe crime has broken out. Everywhere, there is the deep est sympathy for Keating. Everywhere we find execrations heaped upon the head of Her bert. The American press has in the noblest manner proved itself the champion of the in nocent and the chastiser of the guilty. So loud and coarse have been the opprolwious words and slanders flung, these two years past, upon the Irish in America : with so Uittei an ingratitude have they been pfoneunced unwor thy to share thp privileges and honors-of the republic ;. so fiercely have they been threatened with proscription : that we were fearful lest in this case, justice would not be done between the parties. VVe confess ourselves grievously mistaken. Justice has been done.— Prompt, rigorous justice has bepn done. Poor Keating lies there in his red grave, and thousands of manlv voices all over tlie country bewail his fate. Herbert hangs upon a gibbet at the gate of the Capitol, amid the hootiugs of the people. The event teaches two great lessons. It* warns the arrogant and brutal, that the poor man to whom Cod has assigned an humble lot in the community, is not to be struck down'by the murderer with impunity. It warns them that in spirit of tile Republic watches over the low liest of her children, and for every virong'done them that a terrible retribution shall be exci ted. On the other hand, the public expressions which have followed full and fast upon he mur der, should satisfy, even the most timid 'or sus picious of our countrymen, that, though faction ists may rail at them, deriding their creed, race, and poverty, there is no true reason tor thern to be alarmed. On the contrary, they should rest convinced that the laws, the constitution, and above ail. the chivalrous and generous spir it of the people of the United States, will see them protected, honored, and avenged. Herbert may not die by the hand of the Sher iff. But he lives to walk the streets, and jour ney by boat and cars, and sit at the public table of the hotel, with th? damning brand of Cain upon his fine head. The public opinion of A merica, expressed through her press, has mark ed him with the blood of Tharnas Keating. The brow on which it has been stamped shall never be white again upon the earth.— The Irish .Yews, (.V. York.) SOUTH AMERICAN SNARE*. —In thin part of the Orinco we repeatedly saw tester quakes swimming from one island to another; and sometimes they passed over the fioats, to the great alarm of the passengers, but without at tempting to do auy mischief. They are of a light green color, six or eight feet long, and swim with about a third of their body raised out of thp watpr, propelling themselves rapidlv along by the undulating motion of their tail. We were informed by the boatman that their prey consisted chiefly of water rats and young birds. The steersmen of th launches always end.-avor to avoid sailing under the trees that o verhang the river, le.st the mast detach some of the snakes from the branches. VVe frequently saw numbers of lbem, exhibiting the most bril liant colors, while basking in the sun ori trees. A European traveler who visited those parts in 1838, lay down to sleep u|>ori the bank of the Orinoco, and was present I v awakened by cries of alarm and horror. What was his dismay when he found himself encircled in the folds of innumerable snakes? The native boatman, whose cries had aroused him, proceeded to de liver him from the hideous coils in which lie was enmeshed : hut the traveler never com pletely recovered the shock which he had recei ved. His nerves were completely unstrung; and he died delirious about four years after wards at Porto Rico. -MAJOR DOXEL>OX, it will be remembered, says he left the Democratic parly because he could no longer sustain its principles, which re minds a Western editor of the manner in which a fellow who was not wanted in a certain com pany told his story .* "Why did you leave old man Smith's so early last night?" wasthe ques tion ? "Why, you see, 1 called to see Miss Nancy, and she would'nt have anything to say to me. So I sot n w hiie longer and then one of the boys came and took me to the door and gave me a push, ami then I thought may be my company wasn't wanted, and so— l left." BEAUTY OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE.—The beauty of a religious life is one of its greatest recom mendations. What does it possess? Peace to all mankind—itjteaches us those arts which will render us beloved and respected ; which will contribute to our present comfort as well as to our future happiness. Its greatest ornament is charity—it inculcates nothing but love and simplicity of action—it teaches nothing but the purest spirit of delight: in short, it is a system perfectly calculated to benefit l/ie heart, improve the mind, und enlighten the understanding. TREMENDOUS FRESHET IN TENXESSEE, —The Tennessee papers report destructive freshets in that State. In Giles county, hogs, cattle, and sheep were drowned, bridges carried awav, and much other damage done. One farmer lost two hundred head of sheep. At Lebanon the town was overflowed, and many families driven from their houses to seek shelter elsewhere. In oth er counties the flood wa3 not lighter, though the destruction is not reported as so great. 03? = *The Midicat Hospital at St. Louis was destroyed by fire on the 15th ult. There were 96 patients in at the time the fire broke out, but all, except one, were rescued. The town of Lawrence Kv., is reported to I have been destroyed bp a mob. /reedom of Thonsfcrand Opinion. An Affecting Scene in a Western Log Cabin. It was nearly midnight of Saturday night that a passenger came toCoL S , requesting him to go to the cabin of a settler, some three miles down the river and see his daughter, a girl of fourteen, who was supposed to be dying. Col. S. awoke me and asked me to ac company him, and I consented, taking with me a small package of medicines which I always carried in the forests; but I soon learned there was no need of these, for her disease vva3 past cure. "She is a Strang child," said the Colonel ; "her father is a strange man. They live to gether on the bank of the river. They came here three years ago and no o* knajts whence or why. He has money and is a keen shot.— The child has been wasting away for a year past. I have seen her often, and she seems gif tyd with a marvelous intellect. She seems scfmetimes to be the only hope of her father." We had reached the hut ofthe settler in less than half an hour, and entered it reverently. The scene was one that cannot be easily for gotten. There were looks and evidence of lux ury and taste lying on the rude table near the small window, and the bed furniture on which the dying girl lay was as soft QS the covering of a sleeping queen. I was of course startled, never having heard of these people before; but kVowing it to be no uncommon thing for mis anthropes to go into the woods to live and die, I was content to ask no explanations, more espe cially as" the death hour was evidently near. She was a fair child, with masses of long, black hair lying over the pillow. Her eyes were dark and piercing, and as they met mine they started slightly, but smiled and looked up ward. 1 sjxike a few words to her father, and turning to her, asked if she knew her condi tion. "I know that my Redeemer liveth," said she, in a voice whose melodv was like the sweetest tones of an .Eolian. You may imagine that her answer staitled me, and with a few words of like import, 1 turned from her. A half an hour after anil she s{oke in the samp melodious voice : "Father, T am cold, lie down beside nip." — And the old man lay down by his dying child, and she twined her emaciated arms around his rreck.and murmured in a dreamy voice, "Dear lather,dear father." "Mv child," said theold man, "doth the flood ■seem deep to thee ?" "Nav father my. sou I is strong." "Seest thou the opposite shore ?" "1 see it, father, and its banks are green with immortal verdure." , "Heareit thou the voices of its inhabitants?" ."1 h*ar them lather, * the voices of angels, falling from alar in tfie still and solemn night time and they call me. Mother's voice, too, father —oi), I heard it then !" "Doth she speak to thee "She speaketh in tones most heavenly." "Doth she smile ?' "An angel smile! But lam cold cold cold ' Father, there's a mist in the room.— You'll be lonely. Is this death, father ?" A SOFI' PILLOW. Whitfield and a pious companion were much annoyed one night at a public house, by a set of gamblers in the room adjoining where they slept. Their noisy clamor and horrid blasphe my so excited Whitfield's abhorrence and pious sympathy, that he could not rest. "I will go into them, and reprove their wick edness," he said. His companion remonstrated in vain. He went. His words of reproof tell apparently powerless upon them. Returning, he laid down to sleep. His companion asked him rather abrubtly : "What did you gain by it ?" "A soft pillow," he said, patiently, and soon fell asleep. "Yes, a "soft pillow" is the reward of fidel ity— the companion of a clear conscience. It is a sufficient remuneration fordoing right in the absence of all other reward. And none know more truly the value of a soft pillow, than those parents, whose anxiety for wayward children is enhanced bv a consciousness ofneglect. Those who faithfully lebuke, and properly restrain them bv their christoin deportment and religious counsels, can sleep quietly in the day of tri al. Parents! do your duty now, in the fear of God, in obedience to this law, at every sacri fice ; and w hen old agp comes on, you may lay down upon a soft pillow, assured of His favor who has said, "Trsin up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not de part from it." ,I!tempt to Destroy a Passenger Train on the .Michigan Southern Railroad. —The Chica go papers bring us the details of a fiendish at tempt made last week to destroy the Evening Express train out of Chicago. Some wretch had placed a pile of ties and rails across the track, and chained them down. A freight train, which happened to be behind time, coming first to the .obstruction, was dashed into pieces, not a car remaining whole. The engineer and fireman were badly hurt, and sixteen valuable horses instantly killed. The accident preserved live Express train, and we shudder to think w-hat might have been the result had the latter reached the impediment first. No clue has vet been found to the perpetrator of the diabolical act, nor can any cause for it be surmised. THE VAT.CE OF A WIDOW'S SOX. —At Ham ilton, Canada, Mrs. Mclntyre, a poor widow, recovered SSOO from a wealthy merchant, for the death of her only child, a bov of eleven years, who was killed by falling into a cellar, belonging to the defendant, on a public street, there being no railing to protect passengers. IXP'Large quantities of flour are arriving at Norfolk over the Seaboard Railroad. [Er"ln Columbia county the Court granted 4-5 licenses for taverns and eating bouses. INDISCRETION; OR THE ERRORS OF HASTE. "The rash of speech. The thoughtless and the harsh." There are a few individuals who have not suffered much at times, in consequence of haste or precipitation. Even the wisest occasionally forget themselves and act rashly. It is impos sible to be ever watchful, ever vigilant, ever thoughtful, considerate and prudent. A word fitly spoken has a tragic and a charm that at once soothes and conciliates. But a word un fitly spoken, especially if harsh, sharp, or irri tating, will sometimes inflict a wound that can not be wholly healed for years. The erjors of haste are countless, and they are committed dai ly and hourly. All are more or less forgetful in this respect. The impulsive are especially so. They act first and think afterwards ; and not unfrequently the afterthought is full of bit terness, regret and self-reproach. The difficul ty, then, is to make amendment or reparation. Duty recommends a frank, manly and straight forward course—an explanation or an apology. But false pride councils equivocation, prevari cation, or adherence to the error, and if this advice be taken, as it 100 often is, the conse quences are always painful. It is, moreover, such an easy thing to atone for an unintentional misstep, a false impression or a hasty remark, that the surprise is, that any neglect or avoid the discharge of so solemn a duty. How many friendships have been broken, how many tend ties have been severed, how many hearts have been lacerated through errors of haste and in discretion ! The thoughtless and the reckless are constantly committing blunders of this de scription. They talk at random, without reflec tion, consideration or feeling, and are ever and anon surprised, when they discover that they have trenched on forbidden ground. Nay, it often happens that they never discover their er ror. The injury is received in silence, but it is not forgotten. At times, too, their explanations only make the matter worse, because out of place, or in bad taste. And, again, they per sist in a misrepresentation or an insult, and thus they are either treated with contempt, as vile and base, or they are punished in some sui table manner. With the young and inexperi enced, errors of haste are of course natural, and some allowance should be made. They pro ceed from want of judgment, ignorance of the world, and impetuosity of disposition. But e ven under such circumstances, the true policy of the frank and the manlv, is to explain fully and generously at the first opportunity. Ac counts of this kind should never be left unset tled. Better arrange them at once, and in the light spirit, than permit an accumulation oi in terest, and thus an increase of the indebtedness. There are some persons, we are awarp, who fancy that there is dishonor or indignity in ma king an apology, even when they have unwit tingly done wrong. This-, as it strikes us, is a sad mistake, not only of judgment, but of mor als. All are mortals, and are all, therefore, li able to commit indiscretions, and indulge in in firmities. But the error should he corrected as speedily as possible, and thus the sin purged from the conscience. He is indeed blind, per verse and bigotted, who does wrong, and then persists in it because he fancies that there would be humiliation in acknnwleding and taking back the offence. We fully agree with an an cient philosopher, who contended that, alter (lie man who never had sinned, he should be held in the highest esteem who was the readiest to apologise, on being satisfied that he had com mitted an offence. If this doctrine were gene rally received and acted upon, mankind would get along much more smoothly, quietly and happily. The quick in temper, the fiery of blood, and the impatient of spirit, are constant ly committing errors of haste. Most of these, how ever, are quite as ready to make an atonp ment, and it is well that it is so. They are known, their infirmity is recognized, and thus all allowance is made for their inconsiderate conduct and expressions. They are precipitate by nature, and to some extent they cannot help themselves. But if the}' are the first to say a harsh thing they are also the first to recall it; and thus the error is speedily repaired. And this is the true policy. It should be universal ly inculcated and practiced. Let us do unto others as we would that they should do unto us. And surely, let us not perpetrate the folly, nay, the outrage of committing a wrong, and then add insult to injury by adhering to the act of in justice from obstinacy or false pride. There is, we repeat, scarcely an individual alive who has not committed errors of haste. Nay, there are few who cannot recall many with mortifi cation and regret. W'e either perpetrate them, or we see them perpetrated every day. Indis cretion to some extent, is an almost universal failing. And while this is conceded, while we feel that we cannot have constant watch and guard over our minds, our passions and our tongues, let us at least be ready to make amend ment, generous and ample, at the very first op portunity. There is nothing mean or unmanly in such a course, but on the contrary, it is right, high-minded, becoming, and honorable. The sensible man of business reviews his pecuniary accounts daily. H'hv then should we not, in the same spirit of prudence and integrity, and at the first seasonable moment, consider and ad just all violations of taste, courtesy, morals ami propriety ? A Magiiifia'iit Niggfr. Dickens gives the following description, in a late number of the Household Words, of a dan dy darkey hi' encountered in a Paris restau rant : I would have borne half a hundred disappoint ments similar to this dinner lor the sake of the black man. Legs and feet! he was a character ! He sat opposite to me, calm, contented, magnif icent, proud. He was as black as my b<x>t and as shiny. His woolly head, crisped by our bounteous mother Nature, had unmistakably re ceived a recent touch of the barber's tongs.— TEIUIS, *3 PER YEAR. VOL. XXIV, NO. 40. j He was perfumed ; lie was oiled ; he had mous taches (as I live) twisted out into long rat-tails, bv means of pomrnade Hongrois. He had a tip. He had a scarlet Turkish cap, with a long blue i tassel. He had military stripes down his pantar ioons. He had patent leather boots. H>* had | shirt studs of large circumference, pins, gold i waistcoat buttons, and a gorgeous watch chain. I believe he had a crimson under-waistcoat— He had the whitest of cambric handkerchiefs, a ring on his fore linger, and a stick with an over ' powering gold knob. He was the wonderfulbst nigger that the eye ever beheld. He had a pretty little English wife—it is a fact, madam with long auburn ringlets, who it was plain to see, was desperately in love with and desperately afraid of him. It was marvel ous to behold the wrapt, fond gaze with which she contemplated him, as'he leaned back in his chair after dinner, and refreshed his glittering ivories with a tooth-pick. Equally marvelous was the condescension with which he permitted her to eat her dinner in his august presence, and suffered ber to tie around his neck a great ; emblazoned shawl like a flag. Who could he have been? Tliefathprof the African twins. The Hlack Malibran's brother ; j Baron Pompey ; Prince Monsalakatzic of the Orange River : Prince Robo : some other sable dignitary of Hayti ; or the renowned Soloque himself, incognito J Yr-t though affable to his spouse lie was a tierce man to the waiter. The old blood of Arhantee, the ancient lineage of Dahomey, rouid ill brook the shortcomings of , that cedaverous servjtor. There was an item in the reckoning tfiat displeased him. "Was this sa he cried in a terrible voice; "was this sa ? Fesh your mars's, SR." The waiter cringed and fled, and I laughed—. I "Good luck have thou with mine honor: ride on j "honest black man : but oh, human na ture, human nature ! I would not be your nig ger for many dollars. More rib-roasting should f receive, I am afraid, than ever Fncle Tom suffered from fierce Legree. Let me Slide, Doctor* A friend of ours, who is a firm believer in the utility of good eating and drinking, was at tacked, a few weeks since, wiih typhoid fever, the symptoms of which assumed so dangerous a form, that two attending physicians deemed it expedient to call in other medical aid. The consulting Physician, not knowing the habits of life pursued by his patient, proceeded to ques tion him as follows : "Mr. A., how old are you P The sick man replied, "According to the family record, for ty : but I have had as many good times as most men of seventy 1" i "What have been your habits—have you ac customed yourself to use stimulants ?" "Yes." "Haw many drinks have you taken daily ?" "f never kept tally, doctor, but have bpen a 'fair I drinker' and good feeder all my life." The doctor gazed at his patient, felt his pulse, then shook his head. On seeing this, the sick man looked the physician earnestly in the eye, and saiii, "Doctor, what kind of a chance is there of my recovering?" After hesitating a moment, the doctor said, "Well, Mr. A., I think you will recover, but you will have to be very careful how you pal and drink hereafter, as vour constitution has been somewhat strain ed." The sick man gave a sigh, and replied, "Doctor if you can't get me well enough to al low of my eating a good dinner and take my regular 'tods,' Ul me slide now." j Our friend, however, did recover, and as his health improved, so did his appetite: every morning he urged his physician to allow him I something in the way ot substantial nourish ment. After about two weeks the physician j told him "he might have a bird." The sick ! man was delighted, ami immediately sent for an old friend and associate to come and see him ; who, upon entering the sick room of his friend, was accosted thus : Sam, my doctor says I mav have a bird for dinner, and 1 want you to go ' down to Robbins' and tell him to send me the and fat est wild ucose he has in his stall!" ; Hut instead of sending a wild goose, Sam sent a squab, at which our sick friend was at first in dignant, but finally ate it, and fully recovered j his health. Judging lrom his appearance a i few days since, he is likely to live many years to enjoy his dinners, as well as the society of his thousands of friends. Friuiicijt Office Rules. Here are the latest. They should be obser ved : 1. Enter softly. 2. Sit down quietly. 3. Subscribe lor the paper. 4. Don't touch the poker. f. Say nothing interesting. ti. Engage in no controversy. j 7. Don't smoke. 5. Keep six feet from the table. 9. Don't talk to the printers. 10. Hands off the papers. 11. Eyes off the manuscript. If you will observe these rules when yon go info a printing office, you will greatly oblige the printer. A CURIOUS CASH. —About a year and a half ago, a widow lady by the name of Smith, resi ding in Suffolk street in this city, drank some water from a spring at the sea store, and as she supposed, swallowed a small eel. Since then : she has been gradually getting otit of health, and at length her illness became so severe and j alarming that her life was thought to be in great danger. No medicine or physician could give her relief, till last week. Dr. Huntoon being called in, gave her a potion that, on Saturday morning, relieved her of a live eel a loot iri length. The ell has been preserved in spirits and is decidedly an ugly looking customer. — The lady is greatly relieved, but thinks there is 'another of the "varmints" left behind.— Lowell ! .Yews. Hollidaysburg and Gavsport are to be lighted with eas
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers