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