Bl ULEYERS k IIEM OKR
WHOLE NO. 2709. VOL 53.
oiiqin.il piclm.
Written lor the Bedl'o/d Gazette.
31V HOME'S NOT IN THE CROWD-
O<?£ -profantim. et arreo."
Hor.. Ode i, Book Hf.
Mv home's not in thp crowd,
y- where meet man's extremes of good and ill", .
Xot where the reveller's orgies are, nor where
The Pas .ons craze and kill;
Not where the pomp of pride,
With its cold glitter all around it, chills,
Where coins the slave, with nerve and bone, the gold
His master's coifers fills.
Mv home's not in the crowd,
N'ot in the garish glow of idle things,
\'ot where the short-livpd Kase lulls in false arms.
And Syren luxury sirig.
Not where the Hutb-orne Blague,r
Fell sprit-r of airs fouled by the city', taint.
Its gloom wing o'er the orphan spreads, and laughs
To near the widow's plaint.
My home's not in the crowd.
N —Where the woodlands wear their crown of mist,
i where the black hills by the sinking clouds,
in the gloaming, kie-ed, —
Where cnme the but and owl,
An-; bark- the red lux, in the eventide, —
Where rounds theiull moon o'er my native wold,— 1
Let me for e'er abide. *
in JiL i7u mItTI
CHARMED BV A RATTLESNAKE.
r.V W. GILMOKE SIMMS.
A writer in the 1 oited States .Magazine pro
njuncej the followinor description of a voting
girl, charmed by a rattlesnake, one of the most
remarkable and beautiful desciiptions ever pen
ned ;
"Before the maiden rose a little clomp of
bushes—bright tangled leaves daunting wide
in glossr-st green, with vines trailing over them,
thickly decked with blue and crimson flowers.
Her eyes communed vacantly will* these: fas
cinated by a star-like shining glance;a subtle
ray that shut out from tile circle of green haves,
seeming to be their very eye and sending out a
l'uid luster that seemed to stream over the space
between and find its wav into her own eves ; j
very piercing and beautiful was that subtle
'tightness. dI the sweetest, strongest powers.
Aral now the (eaves quivered and seemed to
il'jat away only to return, and the vic.es waved
and swung away in fantastic maze, unfolding
ever charming varieties of form and color to I he
gaz- : out the slar-liice eye was ever steadfast,
bright and gionou, in their midst, ami still I
tasieneij with strange jondtie s ujion fu-r own.
How beautiful! with what wondrous interisit v did j
it gleam and dilate, growing larger and more
lustrous with every mam it sent forth. And
her own g|*nce became intense, fixed, also, but
with a dreaming sense which conjured up the
wildest fancies, terribly beautiful, that took her i
sou! away from her and wrapt it about as with i
j speil. Sire would have tied, she would nave.
! vi), I,ut ;| t . had )i() p;ivst?r to move. I'lie
will was wanting to her flight. She felt that
>be ( .aid have b-nt forward to pluck tlie g>-m
--us-ihing from the bosom of the leaf in which j
dsei-m-d to grow, and was irradiated with its •
•A whit-- gleam : but ever, as she stretched
l uifi fief hand, and bent forward, she heard a
e.'viof wings and a shrill scream from (he tree >
a )v- her—judi a scream as the mocking bird
os'S, when angrily it raises its dusky chest
Mfl Raps its slender sides. Such a scream seemed !
■■•o* a warning; though vet tinxVakened to a
■ consciousness, it startled and forbade her'
effort.
'More than once in her survey ofthis strange '
• ' l2 d she heard that shrill note of warning,
" u to ner mind the same vague consciousness of
' ecu presence, But the star-like eve was
■ upon her own a small, bright eve, quick
of a bird ; now steady in its place, and '
-""'ant seemingly of hers : now darting lor
with all the clustering leaves about it, and
■nig up toward her, as if wooing her to
'') At another moment riveted to the vine
j , ' l . v -'uouaj it, it would vvhirl round and
J '•**, i-azzlingly bright and beautiful, even as a
■—h waved hurriedly fcy night in the hands
1 1 ayful toys; but in all this time the
was never taken from her own —there
" fixed, a very principle of hgbt a
-'b subtle, burning, piercing, fascinating
- -'h such as gathers in vapors above old
- -■ sand Bunds usas we look, shooting, darting
' r A "do her eye, dazzling her gaze, defeat
••'V' r | i, '" se °' discrimination, and confusing
J ■' -V l,s "•*"** of perception. She fell dizzy!
var,,uri U ' d n a cl ? ud colors ' bn - ht > e a y,
r ' ti >att d am! hung like so much
(l inAi a " Jl ' utl the Single object that had so se
>]er i:, T f atl,J " lJO n, and spell-bound her feet,
cur- r: ?' "" ,|v flld more nS e- \
81-eir r'" W coU * dutJ *''e seemed I
'^Whuutf'"' kuUl "*"'& < jt vein by v -in,
L-' was i I"; 14 ""- At if,a( ui m.-iii a rust
**&* h-T TTohe trees
U 'terrda s j, ' I ' "* d"de, VVlilth had repeat,Yitv
*>nuz Tt Cry a , U,Ve h "' asit >re of
tCr,, a'n~im)re 'l 0 '" s,a,,nn VV|| h a
"'"'"thadth ever. This mbve
bfin S'n ba'- 'k Cl n f W ' h ' Ch !t " as inl "'ded, of
IClJ utiesi , h " ,°,* r a of that con
rir' Ve " me , '" rom 'he beautiful
;n v ain. T|. ' ' JU * '°r a while she strove
rch, star-like glance still riveted „
ri> /: h Saifiyi
tier own. the subtle fascination kept her spell
bound. Her mental energies, however, in (he
moment of their greatest trial, now gathered
suddenly to her aid, and with a desperate effort
but with a feeling of most annoying uncertainty
and dread, she succeeded partially in the
Sdtempt and threw her arms backwards, her
hands grasping the neighboring tree, feeble,
tottering, aud depending upon it for the suppoi t
which her own luniks almost entirely denied her
VV ith her movements came, however, the full
development of the powerful sp.dl and dreadful
mystery before her.
14 As her foe receded, though but a single
pace from the tree against which she now rested,
the hurriedly articulated ring,like that of a watch
when wound up with the verge broke, announ
ced the nature of tlie splendid, fyet dangerous
presence, in the form of a monster rattlesnake,
now but a few feet before her, lying coiled at
the bottom of a beautiful shrub, u ith which, to
her dreaming eye many of its own glorious hues
had been associated, bhe was at length consci
ous enough to perceive and leel her danger: hut
tenor had deprived her of the strength necessa
ry to fly from her dreadful enemy. There Mil!
gleamed the eye, beautifully bright and pier
cing, fixed upon her own, and, seemingly in
the spirit of sport, the insidious reptile slowly
unwound himself from his coil, butoiily to wind
hi msejf up again into hii muscular rings, hts
great flat head rising in the midst, and slowly
nodding, as it were, towards her, the eye stiil '
peering into hei own, the rattle ringing at
intervals, and giving forth that paralyzing
sound which, once hear.!, is remembered fbi
ever. Tiie reptile all this while seemed b. fit
Oil S|K)illllg W lilt, VV h lie Seeking to eXflle her *
terrors. .Vow witu its flat lead, distended*
mouth, and cui ving neck, would it dart forth*
i its long t irm toward her— it - fatal teeth unfol
ding on either side of its upper jaws, seeming ,
to tlir-aten her with instantaneous death, while
its powerful eye shot forth glances of that fatal
fascination, malignantly bright, which by pai- i
ul\ zing with a novel form of terror and ol
beauty, may readily account for the spell which i
it possesses of binding the feet of the timid, and '
denying even to fear the privilege ol flight, j
Could she have fled? She frit the necessity, |
hut the power of her limbs vv as gone; and there ;
it still lay, coiling and uncoiling, its arched :
neck glittering likea ring of bronzed copper,)
bright and lurid, and the dreadful beauty of its
eye still fastened, eagerly contemplating the
victim, while the pendulcus rattle stifl rang the :
death note, as if to prepaie the conscious mind j
for the fdta! blow which is momentarily approa- j
ching blow. Meanwhile, the stiffness became
deathlike, with all surrounding objects. The!
bird had gone with its scream and rush. The
breeze was silent. The vines ceased to wave.
Th" leaves faintly quivered on their stem.
The serpent once more lay still, but the eye
was never turned away from tlie victim. Its :
Corded muscles are all in a coil. '1 hey have *
hut to unclasp suddenly, and trie dread'ui fold
will he upon her in full length, and the fatal i
teeth will strike, and the deadly venom which
they secrete will mingle with t ire life blood in i
her veins. The terrified damsel, her full!
I consciousness restored, but n< ! her strength, feels
all her danger. She sees (hat the ,-pait of the
t terrible reptile is at an end. She cannot now :
mistake tlm horrid expression of his eye. She '
tries to scream, but her voice dies away to a
feeble gurgling in her throaf. fler tongue is!
paralyzed her Hps sealed: once more she 1
i strives for flight, hut her limbs refuse their office j
i She fins nothing h-ft of lite but its 1-aifui,
, consciousness. It is in her despair, tbat as a
last effort she succeeds to scream, a single wild
cry forced from her by this accumulated agony:
she sinks down upon the grass before her enemy,
; tier eves, however, still open, and still looking j
i on those which are directed upon their.. She sees ;
him approach, now advancing, now receding ;
now swelling in every part with something 11 k
anger, while ins neck arches beautifully like :
that of a wild horse under the curb, until at)
length tired a> it were at jijay, like the cat v\,*th j
her victim, she sees the neck growing linger j
and becoming completely blown as it to strike,
• —tfie huge jaws unclosed almost directly above
her: the long, bifurcated fang charged with i
i venom, protruding from the cavernous month— j
and she sees no more! Insensibility came to I
her aid, and she lav almost lifeless under thej
' folds of the very monster."
.Nothing in ancient, or modern literature, is ,
• more strikingly conceived, or vividly d-scribed!
than tiiis scene. At this moment, when we j
feel that the summer air is surcharged with this
ev il presence, ami nature aghast in her solitudes ;
under those human pangs, the arrow < I a
voung savage transfixes the neck of the reptile 1
and thus turns aside the deadly lang. fiiei
accessories are all in keeping—the snake-.'ike j
vine, the golden ami crimson blooms, the shad- I
ows of the old woods, the cry "f the birds, w inie j
tlie geneial outline heightens the- cf- J
feet, fill we feel the glittering eye of thej
beast, and its terrible fascination rise to thej
mind, and we see how all tlie benignities j
l of nature are at war with the spirit of the j
reptile.
THE POOR BOY"
Do not be ashamed, my good lad, ifyou have
a patch on your elbow. It is no mark of dis- ;
grace. It speaks well for your industrious mo-,
ther. For our part, we would rather see a J
dozen patches on your jacket than Imar one pro- •
faro-<r vulgar word escape from your lips, or!
smell ifie fuities of tohaco in yoifr breath. No I
"oo*l lioy will hun you be< aose you cannot
divss as well as v our companions: and if a had !
boy sometimes laughs at your appearance, say i
nothing, mv good lad. but walk on. IV'e know ■
many a rich and good man wf.o was once as!
poor as you. Fear God, my boy, ami if you
are poor, but honest, yon will be respected —a 1
gieat deal more than if you were the son of a
rich man and were addicted to bad habits.
IN the description of the Christian armor, we
have no provision for the back.— Punynn.
BEDFORD, PA., FIiJDAY ItOßNlNfi, KOVEMBER !■', 1557.
flli see Han cons.
THE KOUTINES OF ABDALLAiI.
A .I'EKSMK STORY.
j Abdullah Was a prosperous barber ofShiraz •
he married a woman of stupassiiig beauty, but
excessively vain, so that his whole substance
was consumed in providing her with dresses,
trinkets, and the luxuries of a miniature ha
rem.
j Above all other women the wife of Hassan,
tue King s astrologer, was envied by the wife of
Abdailah, the unostentatious barber; for tbii.
! lady affected great grandeur, and could afford
it, on account of the large salary and hand
-1 some presents bestowed upon 'her by her hus
' band.
| One day the discontented beauty announced
j to Abdullah that she would no longer continue
to live with him, unless he gave up the misera
ble business of a barber, and adopted that of as
; Irology. In vain did he represent to her that
) trimming beards was his habit, while of astro
! logical predictions he knew nothing. She in
sisted, and the unfortunate man, infatuated by
j affection, resolved to obey.
So, observing the eccentric practices of the
astroiogejs, he took a brass basin arid a pestle
of steri into the bazaar, and, smiting his basin,
, cried alou i that he would calculate nativities,
j predict the events of the future, deter! thieves,
and fecover lost properly. His neighbors Were
, astonished, and one and ail said, "Abdailah,
the barber, is certainly mad!" But it thunted
. that a certain lady, returning front the bath,
walked through the bazaar with her veil torn.
She ap| eared in great distress, and upon hear
-1 ing the cry of Abdailah, sent one of her slaves
to him with this message :
•'lf you are an impostor, mv husband .will
: cause you to be bastinadoed:if vou are really an
astrologer, inform me where I shall find a neck
lace of pearls which I have lost tlusdav."
"Poor Abilallah, hewtldered, gazed upon the
■ lady, arid in gaining lime to invent an answer,,
! said :
"She can win the pearls, when they are near,
for the veil is torn !"
These words were reported to her bv the
slave, and she uttered a cry of jov.
•'Admirable prophet," she exclaimed, "I
placed mv pearls, for safety, in a rent that is
iin tfie veil of the bath and she ordered Ab
dullah to be presented with forty pieces of
! sold. ' |
j Now, it should be known that in the Persian
j baths there are screerf.i, the name at which is.
\ the same as the native word for "veil." So
, Abdailah, by a lucky accident of speech, had
I not onlv saved himself front the bastinado, but
.had gained forty pieces of gold.
At length another lady, the wife of the king's
treasurer, made her app arance, and jn>t at that
! moment a messenger from the Treasmer cam
: up to Abdailah, in the bazaar, and spoke to
' him. The iadv stood close : n, and li >red.
"Abdailah," said fheslave, "my rna.iter has
j loM the king's great ruby : if thou hast the wis
! dom ol the stars, tbou canst find it. if rut, ;hou
■ art a pretender, and 1 will assuredly came thee
, to be bastinadoed;"
. This time the unfortunate bar * vv s a !••.
wit's end. "O, woman," he exclaimed 1 , "thou
( art the author ol this.""
, H* meant his own wife, but the ■ of the
treasurer, who stood by, imagined he udeired
jto tier. Guilt is always pale, tit- pot say*. —
1 She herself had stolen the king's ring, and i;e
--j Ir.-ved that the astrologer was aware ol her crime
, So, when the messenger had departed, leaving
} the barber petrified with perplexity, sh-
I proacheif him and said, in a soft tune:
"O, astrologer! I -confess ilm", in an hour of
I avarice, I took the jewel. Restore it without
j sending m*- to condemnation."
Abdullah sternly replied— ♦ Woman, I knew
! thy guilt. Where i* the jewel?"
} She answered, " (Aider ihe fourth cushion
j from tlw door, in the apartment of Kasherr., my
j lord's Georgian slave.
i Abdailah hastened to the palace, was reward
ed with a robe of honor, a thousand gold pieces,
] and a costly ornament.
Urged by his wife, Abdailah essayed once
j more. The king's treasury had been broken
i open, and fbrtv chests o! money had been car
j ried a wav. Not a trace of the thieves had been
j discovered. The royal astrologer had tried eve
j ry sort of divination and failed, ami was ihere
' f .re in c'isgrace. But the fame of Abdailah,
j which was rt'Ow spoken of in all Shiraz, bad
; reached the ear of the king, who sent for him
, and gave hrrn audience in the Hall of Koluet
i SerponChidch.
t "Abdailah," he said, with a severe expr-s,i n
' in his face, "art thou truly able to read (he
! stars?" j
"Pot rue to the proof!" answered the barber
. who was now prepared for tlie worst,
i "Then discover the forty chests of money
I which have been stolen, as well as the ciinii
i nals. Succeed, and thou stialt marrv a prin
| cess, and become my minister: fail, and I wil.
! hang thee!" ...
"There must have been bu ty thmv cs . said
Abdailah, making a fortunate and not very diffi
cult wuess. "Grant nte forty nays.
! "Fo;ty days thou shall have," said the king,
j "and thou shall then die. or live for riches and
I h< SoAhe barber went home and told his wife
, and said, "I have forty days to live ; I ill
j sit upon mv praver mat, and meditate on the
i evils of life and the blessedness of death. Hive
j th en, forty beans. At the hour of
evening'prayer, daily, I will give thee one, that
I by counting the remainder, I may remember
how many days I h aVt> to 11 ' * ..... pv - r
She complied: and, every day at h* exac
hour J sunset, Abdailah gave her a^' and
j said, with great firmness and solemnity, Th r
is one of them." And, on the last smd, |
in "an excited manner, • I here are -
iorty of them "'
Preefiom of Thoiif&t and Opinion.
What was his astonishment, when, at that
instUjit, a violent knocking was heard at the
door A crowd of men were admitted, and one
of evidently the chief, said.
"0, Abdullah, wise astrologer, thou shall
receive the forty chests of gold untouched, but ;
spar* our Jives !"
In supreme bewilderment, he answered.
'•This eight I should have seized thee and j
thy wretched corn pan ioils ; hut tell me, on thy
head, how know est thou that I possessed this *
know ledge 7 "
"We heard," said the chief of the robbers,!
'Rhat the king had sent for thee. Therefore,
one of ;s came, at the hour of sunset, to listen I
at thyfdoor, and heard thee say, 'There is one !
of them.' rVe would not beli-ve his story, and !
sent two to ascertain i!, and thou wast beard to i
say, 'There are two of them and tn is night,)
0 wonderful! Thou did'st exclaim, "There are
the whole forty :" but restore the king's mon
ey, and do not deliver us unio the execution- i
es."
Abdailah promised to do what he could.—
BAng admitted to the palace, he declared that j
owing to some mystery of (he stars, it was giv- ;
en him to discover either the thieves or the i
treasure, but not both. Tile monarch, at length, 1
consented to take the forty chests, and fulfilled j
his promise to Abdailah.
A FASHIONABLE SERMON-
A NKVV V>RK Skim 11.
• . I
The fashionable preacher is a mortal always j
adored by Ids congregation—tlie female portion j
particularly. He is a mortal, but sometimes j
deemed an unwinged immortal, and eclipses !
the Divinity whom he preaches. He prays ;
resoundingly (to the congiegation) and his "a- j
men!" sounds like the tap on a bass drum. He i
is meek, exceedingly so —in the pulpit : he !
, loves his hearers collectively, and sometimes!
individually : he hates sin and the devil pro-j
fe>s; :n ally. Discourses eloquently on charity,
from a mahogany pulpif, but forgets his charity |
'fir t!io>e who differ vvilii him. Gives liberally j
(his advice,) in resonant sermons, but always;
has his purse in his pantaloons' pockets when '
he meets a mendicant.
S-nds the gospel to Borrioboola Gha, and'
sends the heathen at home—to the gutter.
Perfumes his sermons with sacred poetry, and
perfumes his white hankerchief with euii t/e Col
o<rnp. Speaks yearningly of tliat other world,;
j but won Id doubtless prefer staying where he is j
better acquainted. Calls iiis congregation the j
sh*"ep of iiis flock, and pulls the wool over their .
eves while I n Shears them.
Studies atitudes as he stfudies his sermons j
and lifts his arms with inimitable grace, to he
seech the Divine grace—of heaven: Delivers;
from a three-storv pulpit—where he is elevated j
far above iiis hearers—persuasive harangues!
upon moral propriety. Acts as though sin
could be drawn from man as that beautiful rich j
Eve was drawn f. im Adarn, by throwing him I
into a gentle slumber : or as the dentist extracts j
.iMS, by administering chloroformal discourses !
ami methereal sermons. Of moralitv he)
talks ;a the aggregate, tint never descent's to i
pm:molars. If one of his congregation, by |
m Igagir-g his property, swindles a friend out i
c! f-w thousand dollars, never rebukes the i
man as th- prophet did David : never mentions j
ii at ail that is a avcnlur it :air and belongs (o !
the world.
Prays t > God, not for wealth, which he wants j
t '. ith. r tor poverty, which he cannot bear,'
n; .iv i>r a competence, by which he meaps ;
1 tiiree-story coif.netence, finished with brown >
stone, ail th.- modern conveniences, and a spa
cious , isec.ient.
II im preaches ut night, always arrives after!
the audi ace is seated and waiting ; sometimes, i
if there is a rush, he lias to rise mysteriously j
through a trap door in the pulpit, as many have
si en Pa'-son Beecher do : this always produces i
a fine efi-ct—so theatrical and striking. Before 1
I;is entrance, tlie gas is turned down to a moon- j
: light mellowness, and'a dim obscurity broods '
over the congregation : the organ is silent.
But the moment arrives; the piopiilar preach
er enters : the gas blooms into a magnificent ;
brilliance ; the ladies bend eagerly forward, and
a murmurous expectancy permeates the air:,
silks rustle and feathers and fans wave: the or-*
gan peats a grand voluntary, and the minister,
slowly mounting the rich carpeted stairs, sinks 1
into the silken pulpit cushions, and opens a j
hymn book.
"Ts this the worship of God, or man ?" sadly ;
asked my friend Ruralton, whom 1 had accom- !
panied to the exhibition. T do not know—l
cannot answer him—hut I think of tlie poor j
publican, who stood afar oft and smote upon his !
breaM, and rried, "God be merciful to me a !
sinner!"— St. Loins Rejmblicon.
'
A Rimeii't ior Happincss. — It is simply j
when you rise in the morning to form a reso- j
liiti'in to make the da}' a happy one for a fel- j
low creature. It is easily done, a li'ft-ofFgar- '
inent to the man who needs it : a kind word to i
the sorrowful : an encouraging expression to i
the thriving ; trifles, in themselves light as air, j
will do it, at least for the twenty-four hours: ;
if you are young, depend upon it, it will tell ! '
vou when you are old; and ifyou are old, rest i
assured it will send you gently and happily j
down the stream of time to eternity. Look at j
the result. Yon send one person,only one hap- !
pily through the day ; that is three hundred j
arid sixty-five through the course of the year; !
and supposing you live forty years only after •
you commence this cours- , you have made four- ■ ;
teen thousand six hundred beings happy, at all ! i
events for a time. Now, reader, is this not ' ;
simple? And is it not worth accomplishing! I
We do not often indulge in a moral dose, but j i
this is so small a pill that one nreds no red c.ur- I
rant jelly to disguise its flavor, and it requires I
to be taken but once in a day : we, therefore,
feel warranted in prescribing if. It is most' i
excellent for digestion, and a producer of pleas- I 1
ant slumber. i i
aMMxmrfaammnsmmmmaactmßßMmammammmmKaKmmammmmmmmmmmmsm
THE HOMESTEAD-
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood.
How sacred the recollections that cluster a
i round the spot where we were born*—the spot
where first we learned to look upon the bean
ties of nature—the green sward—the waving
corn—the stalely tree—and the little, clear
! bubbling spring at its root, from which, during
! the long, long days of summer school, we slaked
uur thirst, or sought a short relief from the tire
some, straight-backed school house bench ; tlie
rippling brook, with, its grassy bank, and speck
| led trout, and little falls that turned the tiny
| tvheel.
The place where we first chased the gay but
terfly and timid "chipmunc," where vve first
' tangled the grass of tlie mower by searching
* for the delicious strawberry, and where first we
plucked the bright templing cherry, the luscious
peach, the daiuiy pear, arui the always endur
! ing and ever grateful apple.
Where, with brothers and sisters, and the
little visiting friends, vve had our plavhouseß
; our ovens of sand—our acorn cups and saucers,
and plates of iiroken china, and made the min
-1 iature stalely calls and foimal tea parties: and
| with what stately stiide we imitated the walk
iof our elders in doing it: where we played
: "keep school" and "preach," and anon with 1
hard-back blossoms or cockerel's feather in our f
caps, we strutted forth, the embryo defend- j
ers cl our country's tiihfs, the gallaut volun- j
feers.
The place where first vve learned to listen to
j the rapturous notes of the free bappy orchard
j melodist the robin and her associates, the
j chattering swallow, and the plaintive whippoor
j will.
The place where first vve learnpd to lisp the
; names ol father and mother; and to utter the
i first pure sentiments of fraternal love for bro
: ther, and for "sister dear."
But above all, and more than all, the spot
where first the holy love of mother taught our
infant thoughts to revere, and our infant lips to ;
pray, "Our Father, who art in Heaven."
How intimately and indissolubly connected
with, how holy enshrined upon, the spot where
we were born the old homestead—are all rec
i ollections of the pure gushing jovs of early
years ! And who, in after life, can see a stran- i
ger lord of that manor, without a pang of sor- i
row? Who would not then feel that such is j
sacrilegious ?
"Give, Oh! give me back my home,
My own dear .NATIVE home."
A STORY OF THE BATTLE FIELD.
A soldier was wounded in one of the battles
ol the Crimea, and was carried out of the field;
he felt that his wound was mortal—that his life !
was quickly ebbing away—and he said to his ;
comrades who were carrying him :
' Put me down; do not trouble to carry me j
any further ; I am dying."
i hey put him down and returned to the i
field. A levy minutes afterwards an officer saw ,
the man weltering in his blood arid asked him !
if he could do anything lor him.
"Nothing,thank you." i
••Shall 1 get you a little water," asked the
i kind hearted officer.
" vo, thank you; I am dying."
"Is there nothing I can dolor you ? Shali I
write to your friends ?"
••I have no friends ynu can Write to. But :
there is one thing fur which I would be much !
obliged : in my knapsack you will find a Testa- 1
ment—will you open it at the 14th of John,
and near the of that chapter yon will find 1
a verse that begins with 'Peace,' will you read !
. i
i he officer did so, and read the words, "Peace '
I leave with you, my peace ] give unto vou ; '
not as the world giveth, give I unto you. " Let
not your heart be troubled, neither let it bea
fraid."
"Think you, sir," said the dying man ; "I '
have that peace: I am going to that Saviour:
God is with me; f want no more,'" and instantly j
expired.
RATHER AN EXPRESSIVE IDEA- j
Some days ago, before the Republican nomi- j
nation for justice ofthe Supreme Court was'
made in this District, a gentleman from a neigh- j
hoi ing county who was desirous of securing !
the nomination, was here to look after his
terests. In company with a distinguished j
"limb of the law," from Eimira, he ordered a
horse and buggv from one of our livery stables
to vivit Horse Heads on a button holeing Mission
to the delegate from this county, a fast horse
that could go out ami back, twelve miles in an *
hour. 'The horse came as ordered, but instead
o! being a 2. 40 nag, he proved to be ofthe I
slowest possible description, testing the patience
of his distinguished drivers to the utmost ex
tent. But he got around finally, and as they
moped up to the livery stable the ostler stood
in the door, between whom aud our aspirant
lor Judicial honors something like the following !
conversation ensued :
Candidate—"ls Mr. J fitting this horse
for the New York Market ?"
Ostler—"Not that lam aware of. Why do
you ask tlie question ?"
' andidate—"Because I didn't know but he
intended to sell him to go before a hearse. I
wish to say that he won't answer the purpose. !
He never would get the corpse around in time I
lor Ihe Resurrection."— Eimira Advertiser, i
A LULL A RY Yoi NC LADY. —We were con-'
versing with a young lady some few evenings'
ago, at a literary and as she had
introduced as a poetess, we, of course, touched on I
poetry. It was not many minutes before she !
had run through the stereotyped list of favorite j
authors, when she concluded with Byron, asser- j
ting hei conviction that he was the greatest poet j
that ever wrote. We modestly hinted that vvv |
prHerred bhakspeare, upon which, with an un- j
f „ r c t tec, c lau " h al °ur simplicity, she cried ; |
'Why, Shakspeare wasn't a poet; bis phi its don't j
rhyme!— Toledo Blade. -
TERMS, S3 PER YEAR.
NEW SERIES VOL 1, NO. 14.
.. II
€) it morons.
MIXED GRAMMAR.
A great many people find great difficulty in
saying what they mean—as much perhaps as
! some editors find in meaning what thev say.
A certain witness, in an assault and battery
suit, we once hpard, mixed up things conskWa
j bly, in giving his account, ol' the affair. After
: relating how Dennis came up to him and struck,
j be proceeded."
, "So, yer honor, I just hauled off and wiped
his Jaw. Just then his dog came along, and I
hit him again and dropped him.
"Hit the dog?"
"No,yer honor, Dennis. And then lup with
I a stun and throwed it at him, and it rolled him
: over and ov*-r."
"Throwed a stone at Dennis?"
"At the dog, yer honor. And he got up and
i hit me again ?"
j " The dog ?"
"No, Dennis. And wid that he stuck hit
• tail between his legs and run off."
"Dennis ?"
"No, the dog. And when he come back at
me, he got me down and pounded me, ver
honor." 3
"The dog camp back at you ?"
j "No, Dennis, ver honor", and that's all I did
i to him, yer honor, and he isn't hurt any at all."
| "Who isn't hurt?"
j "The dog, yer honor."
, THE ENGLISHMAN'S SNUFF BOX.
The French papers have not, under the in
fluence of the alliance, ceased to have tksir
jokes upon Englishmen, and one of the drollest
is told as follows, by the Union Bretonne , from
i which we translate it :
Lord C , well known for his eccen
j tricities, went lately to the establishment of one
jof our most celebrated workers in fancy arti
| cles.
"I want you to make me," said he "a snuff
box, with a view of my rhateau on the lid."
"It is very easily done," was the reply, "if
my lord will furnish me with the design."
"I w ill : but 1 want also, at the entrance ol
my chateau, a niche in which there shall be a
! dog."
"That, too, shall be provided," answered the
! workman.
"But I want also that some means should be
contrived by which, as soon as any one looks at
the dog, he shall go back into the niche, and
only re-appear when he is no longer looked
| at."
The workman looked inquiringly, as if to
ascertain whether his customer was not the
victim of some mystification. Re-assured by
1 his examination, and like a clever man, under
! standing how to take advantage of the affair, he
| said to the Englishman :
"What you ask of me is very hard to com
! ply with ; such a snuffbox will be very expen
| sive ; it will cost a thousand crowns."
"very well : I will pay you a thousand
i crow ns."
j "Then, my lord, it shall be made according
jto your wishes, and in a month I shall have
! the honor of delivering it to you."
A month later the workman presented him
self to Lord C .
"My lord," said he, "there is your snuff
: box."
Lord C took it, examined it, and
said, "That is my chateau, with its turrets, and
there is the niche by the door-way. Bu4 I see
| no dog."
"Did not your lordship," said the workman,
' "say that you wished the dog to disappear when
be was looked at ?"
"1 did," replied bis lordship.
"And that he should re-appear when he was
I no longer looked at ?"
"That is true, also," was the reply.
"Well," said the workman, "you are looking
at it, and the dog has gone into the niche. Put
■the box in your pocket, and the dog will re
! appear immediately."
Lord C reflected a moment, and then
exclaimed, "All right, all right." He put the
box in his pocket, and taking from his pocket
book three bank biiJsofa thousand francs each,
j handed them to the skilful workman.
3j?®°"Gumbo—"ls yer good at spellin', Buck?"
Buck—"Well, darkey, sagaciate ; what de
j interrogatory ?"
Gumbo—"l see ver's larned—but can yer
spell know nuffin without no letters at all?"
Buck—"\ou mean know not/ling , you dark
-1 ey, you ?"
Gumbo—"Yes, know nuffin—can yer dux
j it ?"
Buck—"/ surrender it , as Yorktown said to
i Corncob, caze it can't be aid u i'h no letters at
\"iir
{Gumbo takes a piece of chalk, getsdown npcn
his knees and makes a big cypher on the floor,
and rolling tip his white eyes, asks Buck, if
that aint a nvffin ? Takes out of his hat an old
handkerchief and rubs the cypher out clean.)
Gumbo—"Now, nigger, dare's no nuffin dar t
as plain as day, to disdarkey."
Buck—"Good* Gum, Good! Y'ah, Yah,
Yah,— jis like de party itself—gone! used
' up ! — nibbed out
COURTING WIDOWS. —Some Western editor
: who evidently has no sympathy with Mr.
VYeller, sen'r, in his horror for "live viddern,"
i thus reveals his experience :
"For the other half of a courting match, there
is as much difference between courting a damsel
and an'attractive widow as there is between
| ciphering in addition and the double rule of
| three. Courting a girl is like eating a fruit, all
very nice as far as it extend*. h**t doisg' the
amiable to a blue-eyed bereaved one, in black
! crape, comes under the head of preserves—rich,
j pungent, syrup. For delicious courting, we
' sa }N s' ve us a l> v 'e " vidder."
• WHAT utility is there in killing hogs, if they
i arc cured directly afterward?*