BY BEYER* Sc BEY FOR I). WHOLE NO. 2771. VOL 53. THE PON EAR CREED BY C. P. SHIRAS. Dimes and dollars ! dollars and dimes! An empty pocket's the worst of crimes! If a mart's down, give him a thrust Trample the beggar into the dust! Presumptuous poverty's quite appalling— Knock him over ! kick him for falling! If a man's up. oh. lilt h m higher! Your -out'- for -ale, and he's a buyer ! Dime- and dollars ! dollars and dimes ! An empty pocket's the worst of crimes! I know a poor but worthy youth, Whose hopes are butt on a maiden's truth, But the maiden will break her vow with ease, j For a wooer cometh whose charms are these, A bol'ow heart and an empty head, A face well tinged with the brandy's red, A soul well trained in villany's school. And ca-h, sweet ca-h— he know'eth the rule, Dimes and dollars! dollars and dimes, An cmptv pocket's the worst of crimes ! j I know a bold and honest man, Who strives to live on the Christian plan; But poor he is, and poor will be, A scorned and hated thing is he ; At home he meeteth a starving wife, Abroad he leadeth a leper's life: They struggle against a fearful odds, Who will not bow to tbe people's gods! Dimes and dollars ! dollars and dimes ! An empty pocket's the worst of crimes! So get ye wealth, no matter how ! No questions asked of the rich 1 trow; Steal by night, and steal by day, (Doing it all in a legal way,) Join the church and never forsake her, Learn to cant and insult your Maker; Be hypocrite, liar, knave and fool, But don't be poor—remember the rule; Dimes and dollars, dollars and dimes ! An empty pocket's the worst of crimes ! Hli sc ell an cou s. HIGH .MILLER, OF CROMARTV- The recent sad death of this distinguished Scotchman, another victim to an overwrought brain, recalls to my memory tfie living man, as ' I saw him one blight summer morning, more than a yearago, in Edinburg. He was standing in front of Scolt's monument, lust in contem plation over the genius of one who fell, as the poor man was also soon to fall, a martyr to inteilecual toil. No sooner was he pointed out (o me as Hugh Miller than my eyes were riv eted upon hi.n, as my mind had been some monies Itefore npon that mot remarkable book of his, "The Vestiges Creation " He stood there before n.e, a massive, rough-hewn, and broadchested man, who looked as if really, to oseliisovvn words, " In* could lift breast high the lilting stone of the Drop| ing Cave ol Crom arty." 1 here lie lingered in front of that beautiful monument. The hurrying crowd went by, and all the stirring toil of a busy street was around him, but he heeded not, tor Ins own great mind was communing with the spirit of 'the past, recalling !be-of the Creator," in which he j Completely demolished his college-bred antago nist, the author of that dangerous book, "The j Vestiges qf tbe Natural History of Creation." Hugh Miller and "Old Red Sandstone" are I names indissolublv united in Edinburgh: and I j was told while there, that even among the com mon people he was known by the name of "Old ; Red." j In his mere literary efforts one is struck by j his extensive acquaintance with the English !it— i eralure ofthe last century, in particular with its j Swifts, its Addions, its Popes, Shenstones, and Goldsmiths. That pure, clear sparkling style of his came most certainly from the pure wells, those 11 ndefiled waters of the English classics. | for at these fountains did the stone-mason ol , Cromartv certainly siake his thirst. The great work of his life was finished tfip day before his j death. It is a learned treatise upon the geology jof Scotland. Upon this great labor his mind was shipwrecked. The mighty foil, the patient | and thorough research, the confining applica i tion, were all too much for even his great phys i icai frame and that "Xobfp anil rno-t i-ovcreijrn reason, | Like sweet bells jangled out of time ami harsh," ' d.t last gave way tand hurried him to the grave jofthe suicide. Forney's Press. ECONOMY FASHIONABLE. The Yew York .Mirror says it has reason ■to believe that simplicity and economy it) liv ing and dress will be the prevailing style in high life in the great metropolis during the , coming season. It will be voted 'mauvais lon' as well as bad taste ( f indulge in expensive j habits. Good taste in dress, equipage and social ; appointments, isafterall, but the highest expres sion of what the French call 4 < untenable'—ap j propriafe arid harmonious to the occasion. It jis not'convenahle' to dress richly when the j whole commercial world is under a cloud, nor ;is it graceful for a lady to display her jewels ! when her husband or her brother, or even her j lover is on the brink of failure, or has passed | the Rubicon which separates worldly prosperity from heart-racking calamity. We say nothing lof good morals, for those who live up to the . luxurious spirit of the times care more for the j {Esthetics than the moralities of life, and will | retrench their personal expenses rather as matter , of social decorum than of virtuous self-denial. " ; The ladies have done much to cause these diffi culties, and by a change of mode in dress and , style of living, they can than fathers, | brothers and husbands, to. extricate the country I from this unfortunate conditisjfx The Printer's face is long afcd solemn, For, he wants two lines to fill this column. BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 20,1857. OPIUM VXD LITERATURE. There are two persons who stand forth con spicuously among the literary men of the pre sent century, alike for their splen did intellectual en jwmerils, their ideal crea tions and their lov~ of a drug which se'nds th<* imagination, "any.,here, everwhere, out of the world" of—action. These are Samuel Taylor Coleridge and'l tniinas de Quincv. The author ol Mariner" was a metaphysical, poeUal, conversational wonder. Perhaps no man ev-r lived ,wiio run through the whole gamut o: colloquial music with such charming effect. Like the hero of, the great "Rime"—a hero who spell-bound Ihe Wed ding Guest, and to whom the genius bf the au thor has imparted a living personality—Cole ridge held his list-ner under the spell of his glittering eye. w ile-a fire-torrent of his won drous eloquence jauted from liis tongue. It has been 01.-rved of Coleridge that his "intellectual ant! >cial existence were as dis tinct a two para lei streams tunning side by side, but never j: ung." The one flowed pure, strong and map ic, the other crept lazily a- Iting rejoicing i its tnuddv impurity. He whose intellect!!: life wa< strangely 'beautiful, genius-illumined. hot the meaning ofthe sanctity of his w d, nor the rapture of that so cial circle whict as Tom Campbell would have it, "plighted lov- endears." In his golden outhliood, we find him ex claiming, "My iqipiest moments fill composi tion are broken ritoj by the reflection, that I must make haste 1 am too late 1 I am al ready months bein Angel of the Ressurreclion, white-winged, loyant and resplendent with the glories oft t majestic inner life which al lies genius to t creative energy and power of the Maker of e Stars. While the spirit of intellectual be t? breathed into his immortal verse the breatfflflfe until it became a living thing, the sad*qAjfser, earjhiy_nian .msatftttad \ a melancholy ntrt-t. Tims great ss'jand littleness clashed and contrasted ; so. ngpenius and parvenu mean ness stood sid by [side. He reared a grand temple to the uses, with airv pillars, frescoed dome and spndid proportions, wherein he , might woo theefafh Nine with the Majesty of a god. Rut t! wdrld was stronger than the Castillian sisH, and so Coleridge too often kissed and pa i with the beautiful Muses, and rushed into tlhell of English temptation.— There were isyren lipped Aspasias in the grat world o ction that dragged him away from his Idea empie, but the inherent faulti ness of the m 'he sad want of morai stamina and an urispf sibl** appetite for opium, which, while itd"i'.i his mind with magnificent and gorgeous vii , destroyed truth, liouor aiuijus t ice. Yet the us I the drug which thus laid pros trate the no! trait- of humanity—lor be it known to all the t-ailii, earthy, that genius is not of humar '- bu< of God, being that loftier attribute of n that speaks of the Ideal u> the K,. a l bron*' forth from the sou! of the splen did dreamer e nreamiest of oriental dreams, the quaint* af) d niost rythmically musi cal of mod* productions. U'e beg par don ofthe f read* r, who, loving Sue and Reynolds h' r s an Coleridge and Shelley, look with w starring eyes at a quotation from a standard a OIV crave pardon —but we mean Kubhrha* l - Thus dreamed the poet while his A; "W" l ''ed itself, and the winged thoughts on 0 h t * flew out. all "radiant with joy." J y a did Kubla Khan tfly pleasure dome decree— Wf, Alpb. The sacred river, ran q-p ;h caverns measureless to man, j n to a sunless sea. TP adow ofthe dome of pleasure p.:ed midway on the waves; yyj. was' heard the mingled measure ; n thf fountain and Ihe caves, j T a miracle of rare device — A >" P l *' sure dome with eaves of ice! y -el with a dulcimer vision once f saw ; J, an At y-sinian maid, i,i bef dulcimer she played— : nf HO lount Abora. C I revjve within me symp. ion v and song, ... ha deep (teliglit 'twould win me, it. with music, loud and long, ~ i build that dome in air— •j unny < ome—those eaves of ice The S( a over the tilue waters of Oman is !yn ore musical than these lines, and the e frjKment overflows with vocal and | vtln *'j liquidity. The only iegret is, that we ! a instead of a fioem, the poet dr*" hivprig been awakened from an opiatic s'l l> s' ■OfTo*" dull clodof the neighbor hood on I '' s * A v!, i' 1 * "P 1 in ,he fonternpla- j tion of h ,l,m * Tile remaining lines could not be le r *d*nd the "sunny pleasure dome" of Kubla * unfinished. Like Ihe wing of an at hanging over the walls of I ar adise w , ve °" ! . v a glimpse of the vision of beauty w 1 ros f Bo S ra "d'y '■> the mind of Cole- TalkV reminds us of the author ofthe >#'•# an Opium Eater." Many vears before the blue eyes of our fair un„' ,, "i'v ,r 'ghte n