'.Tv**. M^S^S^Mktm rttftnwji to - sssssfar*®^' WwwSaSffs* ,| i (MWTdjl* required. pM«ker, WeAwaod’e^ l^gll who en^Mt Z_ [M^hXl^y 10 Xfl bT 1 . v~ &2 * c 103 e -S 2 |r aj B >* ll 5 g J |i J § -S <*ll ■■< o -§Mi ■a | %1 a o|| .5 « * »SS 8-& I* .■ A *2 B S *« *1 d Crimlmba in ■k widely ctreoUted ardßjhoot to all toe Onto Xrieto.Otlniul aitori»l«on tbeeatM, iojptba with r TtHStni, not to be ftaull Ui «n j (wr unom; tor oixinowb*, to aS, (who (boold writ* a#hi»uw< tdauuwhon tWnnldojphiWx.) JO Or W. MArtjBLI. tJ&y. hot Xmr Totk PoKor Gnrato, : w» TIONERY £fi SALOON, RISER WOULD IN of Attoopn mod Tlateltyttet hi* r tad FRUIT wt »rtielratob«lud,a&dlopT»t R SALOON whlchbe winrarro nJtblBWK* t ratoon. f sad orastdnafs *»'*•* KESS^s «1«>B to (wTi^atolttoaM* 0 MSB —FB^OXICAL sips TmV.l am WjrjWJgJJ > ther* te bo air»^J t^ Kl r. i ibecome DlwodW -»y™ ■win at—a eatt Mai W* 1 * PERN INSIJBA«G B fAST—lnwnraac* .mMS&£ STtOf*** 'ft',jj?SpßpS^ ABD OILS, mmcmg** raww* L ■ PKOFRWTO UcCKIJM & DEKN, VOL. 7. THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. , lroauM H. C. DBRN, . r , o nom.(p»y»blelnT*ri»bly in ndTnnee,>&.... Al [“p Cr , .li.coutinued »t the expiration .f the lime ytiJ 1*" TKKM* OF. 4DTMTISUW -1 inaertiOQ 2 do. 3 do. t,„.r li»« “ * : sl OO ...1 00 1 60 i 200 T«« ; •• i... 150 200 280 three week, and lea* than three month., 25 cent. ~,-r square tor e»ch # month*. I year. sl 60 *3 00 *5 00 six mir. or 2 60 4 00 7 00 One square, j M 600 ■lO 00 T»» ‘‘ Z". 600 800 il2 00 three »• . 600 . 10 00 I;14 00 t’uur " 14 00 20 00 Halt a column M 00 26 00 40 00 "2~^" ess 's : •» -uaracter or individual in ..rest -ill^ c n h * r^ XS inaer tiom de'Swiil be continued till forbid and charged ae 'a2S£sa=^s» I BALTIMORE LOCK HOSPITAL _ ESTABLISHED AS a RKFDGEfKOM QUACKERY • Xhe Only Place Where a Gore Gan be Obtained* j . r\U. JOHNSON has discovered the II most Certain, Speedy and only Effectual thTn-orld for all Private Diseases, Weakness of the Baek „ r Limbs, Strictures, Affections of the Kidneys and Biad i,r involuntary Discharges, Impotency, General Debility, trvo JsnMslDyspepsy. Languor, Low Spirits Confusion Of Idew PalpiUtiorof the Heart, Timidity, Tremblings. Dima “s’ of Sight or Giddiness, Disease of the' Head. Throat, Nose or Skin, Affections of the Liver, Lnogs, Slota- Lh m Bowels-those Terrible disorders arising from the ‘olitaryilabita of Youth-those BkCRH and “htary prac tices more fatal to their victims than the song of Syfeus to the * Mariners of Ulysses, blighting their most brilliant hopes or anticipations, rendering marriage. Ac., Impossi ble YOUNG ME Fmeciallv. who have become the victims of Solitary • ice. tiut dreadful and deetuctive habit which annually tweepe t., an untimely grave thousands of Young Men of the moat i ihalled talents and brilliant intellect, who might other wise have entranced listening Senates with the thunders uf eloquence, or waked to eclasy the living lyre, may call with fall confidence. _ , 1 X ' x • . Married Persons, or Young Men cotemplatinp marriage, being aware of physical weakness, organic debility.‘fafor mitv, speedily cured. • , _ _ l . He who places himaett under the care of Dr. J. may re liciou*lv confide inhis honor as a gentleman, and confi dently fclv upon hlssklll.as;a physician. ORGANIC WEAKNESS 1 tiimtsiUiely Cured, and full Vigor Restored. - This Distressing Affection—which renders Life miserable and marriage impossible—is the penalty paid by the victims of improper indulgences. Young persons are to £pt to commit excesses from not being awaie of the dread ful consequences that may ensue,. Now, who that under stands the subject will pretend to deny that the power of procreation is lost sooner by those falling into improper habits than by the prudent > Besides ’being deprived the pleasures of healthy offspring, the most de structive symptom? to both holy and mind arise. The system becomes Deranged, the Physical and Mental Func lions Weakened. Los* of Procreative Power, Nervous Irri* lability, Dyspepsl*. Palpitation of the Heart. Indigestion, Constitutional Debility, a Wasting of the Fnune, ; Cough, Consumption, Decay and Death. OFFICE. NO. 7 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET. Lefr hand aide going from Baltimore street, a fa* doors from the corner. Fail not to*observe name and numWr. Letters must be paid and contain a stamp. The Do lor’s Diplomas bang in his office A CURE WARRANTED IN TWO DAYS. Mo Mercury or Nuseont Drug*. OR. JOHNSON. Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, London, Grad uate from one oj the most eminent Colleges in the. United Sutea.and the greater part of whose Hie has been: spent in the hospitals of London, Paris, Philadelphia and else where, has effected some of the most astonishing cores that were ever known; many troubled with ringing ip the head and ears when asleep, great nervousness, being alarmed at sudden sounds, baahtalness, with frequent blushing, attended sometimes with derangement of mind, were cored immediately. TAKE PARTICULAR NOTICE. Dr. J. addresses all those who have Injured themselves by improper indulgence and solitary habits, which min both body and mind, unfitting them for either business, study, society or marriage. Tam are some of the sad and melancholy effects pro duced py early habits of youth, viz: Weakness of the Back and Limbs, Pains iu the Head, Dimness nf Sight, Loss of Muscular Power, Palpitation of the Heart, Dys p*psy, Nervous Irritability, Derangement of the Diges tive Functions, General Debility, Symptoms of Consump tkm. Ac. , WurTiiLT.—The fearful effects of the mind are: much to he dreaded—Loss of Memory, Coafnaion of Ideas, De pression of spirits, Bell-Forebodings, Aversion to Society, Self-Distrust, LoveofSolitude, Timidity, Ac., are some of the etil* produced. Thousasm of nervous of all ages-can now judge what is the cause' of their declining health, losing their vigor, be coming weak, pale, nervous and emaciated, having a sin gular appearance about the eyes, cough and symptoms of consumption younq me Who have injured themselves by a certain practice in dulged in when alone, a habit frequently learned from evil companions, or at school, the tSects of which are nightly felt, eren when asleep, and U not cured renders marriage. fmposihle, and deitroji bott mind&nd body, should apply immediately.' ; What a pity that a young man, the hope of bis country, the darting of his parent®, should be snatched from all prospects and enjoyments of ilfe, by the consequence of deriaUng from the path of nature, and indulging iu a certain secret habit. Such persons HOTT, before contem plating < MARRIAGE. reflect that a sound mind and body are the moat necessary requisite* to promote connubial happiness. lowed, with out these, the Journey through Ufr becomes a .weary pil grimage; the prospect hourly darkens to the view; the mind becomes shadowed'with despair and Ailed with the melancholy reflection that the happiness ot another be comes blighted with oar own. DISEASE or imprudence; , When the misguided and imprudent rotary of pleasure Hods that be has imbibed the seeds of this painful dis ease, it too often happens that an ill-timed sense of shame, or dread of discovery, deters him from applying to those who, from education and respectability, can; alone be friend him, delaying till the constitutional symptoms of this horrid disease make their appearance, such as ulcera ted sore throat, diseased nosey nocturnal pain s in the head and limbs, dimness of sight, deafhess, nodes ob the shin boue* and arms, blotches on the bead, Ikcc and extremi ty, progressing with frightful rapidity, till at last the. pslatf of the mouth or the bones of the nose fall in, and* the Tktlm of this awful disease becomes a horrid object of commiseration, till death puts a period to his dreadful * uttering*, by sending him to 44 that Undiscovered Country frt»nf>rßence no traveller returns,” It is a nelattchotf fact that thousands fall victims to this terrible disease, owing to the unskillfnlness of igno- r »nt pretenders, who, by the use of that Deadly Poison* Jfrrcury, ruin the'constitution and make the residua of 1 ife miserable. s ' „ STRANGERS ‘rust notyoar lifts,or health to the care of the many Colearned and Wottfalees Pretenders, destitute of knowl* *d?e t same or character, who .copy Dr. Johnston’s adver tisement*, or stylo themselves, to the newspapers, rega lly Educated Physicians, incapable of Coring, they keep you trifling month after month, taking their filthy and poisonous compounds, og ms long as the smallest fee can be obtained, and in despair, leave yon with ruined health t > siglruver your galling disappointment. Dr. Johnston is the only Physician advertising. Hi* credential or diplomas always hang in his office. HU remedies or treatment are nnknown to ail others, prepared from a life spent In the great hospitals of Europe, the first in the country and a more extensive Private Prat w than any other Physician in the world. INDORSEMENT OF THE PRESS. - The many thousands cured at this institution, year after rear, and the numerous important Surgical operations performed by Johnston, witnessed by the reporters of the **Jnn,” Clipper,” and many other papers, notices of which have appeared again and again before: the public, besides his standing jw n gentlemen of character and re sponsibility, is a sufficient guarantee totbe afflkted. SKIN DISEASES SPEEDILY CURED. .No letter* received unless post-paid and containing a •tamp to be used on the reply persons writing should state •ge and send portion of advertisement dascribingaymptoms. * ..writing sfaonld be particular in directing their letters to this.lnstitution, to tW following’manner: * JOHN M. JOHNSTON. M. D„ Of the Baltimore lock Hospital, MirrUnd. fkltia SCHOOL OF THE OLPEM TIME. The ecboola—the acboole of other days 1 Thaw were the Kittle for me, When, in a track end lroueere dreaaed, I learnedmj ABC. When, with my dinner in my h*t, 1 trudged *w*y to eebooU Nor dared I atop, m toys do sow. For ecboohzsn’nih bad a ecxe. And if a traveler we met. We threw no atkke sor stones, ' To fright the hones as they passed, Or break good people’s bones. Bat with oar hats beneath oar arms. We oar beads fall low, Foe ne’er the achodbma’am foiled to ask, M Boys, did yoa make a bow ?” And all the little girls with as Would courtesy fall low, And hide their ankles with tlteir gowns— Girls dont have Ancles now. We stole no fruit, nor tied the gross. We played no noisy games. And when we spoke to older folks. Put handles to thus maxes. And when the boor of school had come. Of bell we had no heed, The achool-ma’am’a yap upon the glass, Each one would quickly heed. That school-ma'am! Heaven bless her name! When shall we meet her like * She always wore a green calash. . A calico vandyke.! •. She never sported pantaletts; No silks on her did rustle; Her dress hang gracefully around— She never wore a Beam! With modest mein and loving heart. Her dally task was done, As true as needle to the pole. The next one was begun. The days were all alike to her. The evenings just the same, And neither brongbt a change to us. TUI Saturday forenoon came. And then we had a match.** And learned the sound of A, The months and weeks that made the year. The hours that made the day. And on that day we saw her smile— No other time stniler she: ’Twas then she told us learnedly When next-**leap year” would be. Alas! kind soul! though leap year came And went full many a time. In ‘'single blessedness” she toiled, TUI far beyond her prime. Bnt now, indeed, her toils are o'er, Her lessons are all said. Her rules well learned—her words all spelled, She’S GONE UP TO THX UZAD. Jftrtwt His«Uan|». THE SOBEOWB OF A MAH WHO WAS BOBH TO BE HUH 6. .While playing at Baltimore, Dan Mar ble fell in with a gentleman who had for merly been a merchant, and a man of con sequence in the mercantile community.— His fortunes had fallen in the “sere and and yellow leaf ;” a circumstance briefly alluded to in the works of Wm. Shak speare. Esq., a literary gentleman, now long since deceased. The person was quite a character, if his credit was below par and his “moral grandeur” oh a very limited scale. In short, :at the time Dan picked him up, the man was engaged in a species of practical chemistry, vulgarly known as mixing toddy, and faro bank. Dan met him one monßg, in an un common mood of double-breasted bines, and invited him to take a drink at the bar of an establishment where they chanced to meet, and, to the comedian’s astonishment, the man actually refused “ Come along up—what’re you-about ?” “ Can’t do it, Mr. Marble; much bbliged, but excuse me.” “Why, what oii airth ails you? You look as if you had lost a three year old colt or a patch of pumpkins. Come.” The man gave in, took a nipper, and then taking Dan gingerly by the shoulder, advanced a few feet from the bar, and in a desponding tone of voice, says: “Mr. Marble, you’ve traveled a great deal, seen a good many ups and downs, but was you ever drowned?” “Well,” says Dan, as nobody but him self could have said it, “ I hain’t, just at this moment, any particular recollection of having gone that far—-by water.” “Was you ever saved from drowndin ?” continued the melacholy man. “ Physical demonstration kind of argues in favor of such a conclusion,” says Dan. “I have been.saved from drowning.” “ Then, Mr. Marble, you may be able to appreciate my unfortunate position. I .was saved from drowndin,” “Glad of it. Wasn’t you? “Glad? glad? Sfo, sir! I lost thirty thousand dollars by it.” • “ The dickens you did!” responded Dan, in astonishment. “Itis a lamentable fact, sir. Sit down, Mr. Marble. I know your time is valua ble ; I wont detain you long.” “Don’t, if you please,” echoed Dan, smelling a long yarn. “I shan’t sir ; a few words will do.— Suppose we drink.” : “Go ahead. A glass of sherry,” says Dan. “Gin and bitters,” says the melancholy •man. “My respects, Mr. Marble,” ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 12, 1862. “ The same,” says Dan. “ Now let her rip” . “ Well, Mr. Marble, in . 1881 I was worth thirty thousand dollars. 1 didn’t owe a red cent in the world. One day, sir, 1 went down to the basin to see a friend off to Norfolk. “Good bye,” says I. ' “Take care of yourself, Jim.” “ Good bye,” says he. “ But no sooner had I got ‘ take care of yourself? out of my mouth, than down I went heels over stomach, off* the wheel house on to the wharf—backward into a wheelbarrow—that- tilted, into, the dock, and my first recollection after what was a sensation as though I had been converted into a pin cushion, and forty women jab bin’ in the pins. ; “1 smelt a hot stove, red flannel, and apple jack. I heard a jumble of voices. “ Rub away. He’s coming to.” “ Tain’t no use. He’s a goner. Burnt brandy won’t save him.” “Send for the doctor.” “ Coroner, you mean.” “ What’s in his pockets?” “ Take care of his watch, gentlemen.” “That part of the conversation,” says Dan, “sort of revived you, I reckon.” “Mr. Marble,” replied the narrator, putting his hand emphatically upon the comedian’s shoulder—“ Mr. Marble, that brought me to.” “ Where am I?” says I. “ In my shop,” says somebody. “What’s the matter?” says I. | “1 saved you; me—l’m the man!” ! shouts the fellow. “Saved me?” “And then, as I felt for my pocketbook and watch, I found I was damp—wet as a drowned rat. “Fell overboard, by thunder!” says I. j “Well you did, and no mistake,,” says i the fellow. “ I pulletf you out, or you’d i been crab bait afore now.” ! “ Call a carriage, if you please,” says I, | tossing up about two gallons of pure Ches j apeake. Call a hack.” “I’ve got a small bill agin you my | friend,” says the shopkeeper. “ They have | used a gallon of my sperets in fetching i you to.” “ I paid the man a dollar “Then says some fellow standing by ' “ Mister, I spose you’ll treat the crowd for rubbing at you, and a rolling out the water. “ I invited the whole party up to drink, and handed around the cigars and crackers. “ I then called again for a carriage. “ I went for the doctor, Mister. Of course you’ll gin a fellow something for going for the doctor,” said another blood sucker. “•I gave the rascal a dollar. “ Now,” says I, “ for God’s sake bring me a carriage. “ I was edging through the crowd towards the door, when a nigger got before me, hat in hand. “ Boas, you broke dis child’s barrow all to pieces. Guy, must hab a quarter or free lebeh penny bits for mend dae, shuah!” “ I didn’t kill the nigger, but gave him half a dollar, and rushed, for the door.— The carriage drove up—a doctor’s gig at the same time. “ Stop sir,” says the doctor; “ 1 shall charge you for coming here.* “ Charge/ and be— —!” says I jumping into the hack. “Insolent puppy!” says the doctor, “ I’ll make you smart for this before you are a day older.” “Dp if you please,” I shouted, as the haokman drove off. “ For some minutes I was unconscious of all around me, even the wet and brazen fellow by my side; but who did not long allow me to repose in such happy oblivion —rot |and blast him. “What a cussed set of blood suckers they were,” says he. “IJmph!” says I, not exactly knowing whethier I was a dead or living man. “ Them fellows down at the shop,” he continued; “ I pulled you out.” “What do you want here? What are you following me for*” I gasped, almost tempted to jump out at the window of the hack. “Well,” he replied, “I’m a poor man —got dreadful wet—almost lost my life— me, I saved y®n.” “ I heard no more—my lifeless body was taken out of the hade into my lodg ings.; When I came to, there stood the fellow, telling my friends how I fell in like double distilled thunder it fell upon my ears. “Me, I saved him.” I again elapsed into |a spasm. I was sickly and fast in my bed for twelve long months. My busi ness was neglected—my friends paid the fellow who ‘saved me’ handsomely—the doctor prosecuted me—my friends com bated him—and when I got out of my bed 1 1 whs a ruined man. i “ Yes, Mr. Marble, 1 was a ruined man j —involved —in feeble health and beset by j a fiend. For, sir, I had no sooner got | about, than 1 met—met—blast him, he J froze to me—dogged me like a shadow, ; and wherever I went, morning, noon and I night, he bawled into my ear: i “ Me, I saved yon!” fINDEPENDENT IK EVERYTHING.] “1 tried to dose up my affairs and dear out. Couldn’t do it; and between you and I, Mr. Marble, I took faro for diver sion, qnd gin and Utters to keep my spirits from deserting me.” : “ Well,” says Dan, “is the fellow still about?” I hope not—wouldn’t for fifty dollars see him again. He stole a nigger a year ago, was caught, and 1 heard no more from him. I was becoming tranquilized and happy, when I, learned, last night, that my ghost was seen sneaking around town again.” , They parted, and Dan saw no more of his haunted friend; and about a year after this occurrence, while in the city of Mem phis, Tenn., J)an heard of the ex-merchant. He had emigrated from Baltimore to es cape the fellow who had ‘ saved him,’ went to Kentucky, and was hung for a fellow gambler. Just before leaving, he called out in a loud voice:. "‘Let me go—don’t anybody save me!” and he went. A Young Man’s Fiest Lesson. —Tim- othy Titcomb is guilty of ottering many very blunt truths, and here is one from his letters to the young. “I take it that the first great lesson a young man has to team is that he is an I ass. The earlier this lesson is learned, the better it will be; for his peace of mind and his- success in life. Some never learn I it, and descend into the evening of their existence, their ears lengthening with shadows as they go. Some learn it early, get their ears cropped and say nothing I about it; while others sensibly retire into modest employments, where they will not 1 be noticed. A young man reared at home I and growing in the light of parental ad- I miration and paternal pride cannot under stand how any man can be as smart as he is. He goes to town, puts on airs and gets snubbed, and wonders what it means; gets into society and finds himself tongue tied ; undertakes to Speak in a debating club, and breaks down or gets laughed at; pays attention to a nice young woman, and finds a very large mitten on his hands, and in a state of mind bordering on dis traction, sits down to reason about it.— | This is the critical period of his history. The result of this reasoning decides his fate. If he thoroughly comprehends the fact that he does not know anything, and accepts the conviction that all the world around him knows more than he does, that he is but a cipher, and whatever he gets must be won by hard work, there is hope for him. Got Moke than its Share. —An Irish-1 man employed on a farm, was told by the 1 farmer that one of his duties would be to 1 feed the chickens. This he did daily; but he observed, with much concern, that I when he gave them their corn-meal pud- 1 ding, an old drake that was among the | flock shoveled it in with his broad bill I much faster than the chickens could do. I At last an idea struck him. One evening, as usual, while Pat was distributing pud ding to the fowls, be commenced soliloqui zing in the following manner: “Arrah, I bedad, an’ here ye are agen, ye devilish spoonbill quadruped; ye lay under the Bam all day; and when I say chi-ky, chi ky, be St. Patrick, ye are the firet one here, and ye pick up three mouthaful all in one, and now, be yabers, an’ I’ll fix ye for that, an’ so I will Sure enough, Pat called the drake close to him, and made a grab and nabbed him. “ An’ it’s welcome ye are blast yer ugly picter; when Pm done ye’ll not pick upi more than yer share.’? With that Pat got out his knife and trim med the drake’s bill off sharp and slim, like a chicken’s, apd thou exultingly threw him down, saying, “Now, be jabers, ye can pick up the feed ’long side the bob tail rooster.” 1 It is Dark.— -The following beautiful sentiment is taken from “Meister Earl’s Sketch Book,” entitled “ The Night of Heaven.” It is full of touching tender ness: “It is dark when the honest and honor able man sees the result of long years swept cruelly away by the knavish, heart less adversary. It is dark when he feels the clouds of sorrow gather around, and knows that toe hopes and happiness of others are fading with his own. -But in that hour toe memory of past integrity will be a true consolation, and assure him,* even here on earth, of gleams of light in Heaven. “ It is dark when the dear voice of that sweet child, once so fondly loved, is no more heard around in murimirs. Dark when toe light, pattering feet no more re sound without toe threshold, or ascend, step by step, toe stair. Dark, when some well known melody recalls the strain once oft attuned by the childish voice now hushed in death 2 . Darkness, indeed; but only toe gloom which herald toe day spring of immortality and the infinite lights of Heaven.” , ! «"A common arm-chair is a more com fortable seat than a throne, and a soft beaver hat. a lighter and more pleasant piece of head-gear than a mown. THE AST OF JOT HEABDTO. OU> WttM WKIIV HHn- The art of not hearing should betaught . -j-;,->■■• t in every well-regulated family. It is fully Some clear headed, mischievous chap as important to domestic happiness as a goto off the following quaint definitkme in cultivated eat, for which so touch money which there is considerable more truth and time are expended. There are iso than poetry: many things which it is paintd to hear, Water— 4. clear fluid, once usedas a many of which we ought not tii hear, very drink. many which if heard will disturb the tern- Honesty—An excellent joke, per, corrupt simplicity and modesty, de- Kural Felicity—Potatoes and turnips, tract from contentment and happiness— Tongue— : A little horse which is always that every one should be educated to take running away. in or shut out sounds, according to their Dentist—-A person who finds work for pleasure. his own teeth by taking out those of other If a man falls into a violent passion and people, calls me all manner of names, toe first My Dear-—An expression, used by man word shuts my ear and I hear no store.— and wife at the commencement of quar- If, in my quiet voyage of life, 1 fitfl my- rel& self caught in one of those domestic Vhirl- Policeman—A man hired by tbqcorpo winds of scolding, I shut my ears, as a ration to sleep in the open air, sailor would furl his sails, and, makitg fdl Bwpuifc—A, likEctous transaction, in tight, scud before the gale. If a hot and which 1 eadn pafty tiunks he cheat# the restless man begins to inflame my feehogs, other. I consider what mischief these sparks might Doctoiv—A man who kills yon to-day do in the magazine below, where my tun- to save your life to-morrow, per is kept, and instantly dose the door Author—A dealer in words, who often Does a gadding, mischief-making feUovy gets paid in his own oojtn. begin to inform me what people are sayjn* Friend—A person tfho will not aarnst about me, down drops the portcullis' of you because he knows Tjyonr love will eft my ear, and he cannot get in any farther* cuse -him. Does the collector of neighborhood scandal Editor—A poor chap who empties his task my ear as a warehouse, it instinctive!* brain, in to fill Ifia stomach, shuts up. Some people feel very aanoii Wealth—The most respectable quality to hear everything that will vex and anf n f /. noy them. If it is hinted that any on* Bonnet—A female head drees for front has spoken ill of them, they t set about geats at ifee opera. searching the matter and finding out. If Critio—A bad dog that goes unchained all the petty things said of one by heed*, and barks at everything be does not com less or ill-natufed idlers were to be prebend. home to - him, he would become a m#fl £squire—Everybody, yet nobody, the walking pin-cushion, stuck full of sharp i* equal to Colonel. marks. I should as soon thank a man fo Jmy—Twelve prisoners in a box to try emptying on my bed a bushel of one at thebar. sctting loose a swarm of mosquitoes in 115 State’s evidence—A wretch who gets a chamber, or raising a pungent dust in m] pogdhn for being feasor than his comrades house generally, as to bring upon me al Abuse—Hie rand with which the tattle ofi careless or spitefiil peopfe— m BpatteredQn the to If you would be happy, when among got destruction men open your ears; whenampngbd, .Modesty— Abeautifal flower that fionr shut them. And as the throat has a ms- secret places, cular arrangement by which it takes * ,r V-i. V ■*' * NO. 19.