The Altoona tribune. (Altoona, Pa.) 1856-19??, October 09, 1862, Image 1

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$ on hand, a good stock of plain
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ous.of the year.
Ear, Molasses, finite,
lw in large or email quantitW
>» my stock and you! will find
TID tOWU. ' j
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which he* will serve up OYSTERS
(t VJES always on haw!.
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to direct, bnt if yon JR.
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1 Insertion 24p. d do.
4 4 ,r $ 2ft 2 $ 50
'' 4f Hire ' s line*) 60 ‘ft 100
„ c , Minwe. > .. 100 150 200
f*» . ; 2 4 •• ) 160 2>o 260
liirr tjire« week* and lew than three month!. 2ft cents
h *„- r „ for each insertion.
Smooths. 0 months. 1 year.
160 $ 3 00 $6OO
.... 2 60 4 00 7 00
.... 400 600 10 00
.... 500 800 12 00
6 00 10 00 14 00
tO V, '”** . 10 00 UOO 20 00
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pr ‘fr«ioW irVu.iMH not 8
r"miMOfea«M« of a political uaracter or indiridnat in
bo charged according to the shore rate..
marked with the number of in«r
ns jesireil. will bo continned till forbid and charged ac
lWrWtothe above terms* -
" 2«S noticea fire cents per line for erery inaertlou.
iliitnsry notices exceeding ton line*, fifty cents a squa e
,x iirn* «>r
tine >({Uar'V
Baltimore lock hospital ■
Tie Only Place Where a Cure Can j
be Obtained. |
DU. JOHNSON has discovered the j
»uwt Certain. Speedv and only Effectual Remedy inji
orld iof all Private Diseases. Weakness of the Back |
, h SirictureM, Affections of the Kidneys and Blad- !
f r VuvoloMarv Discharges, Irapotency, General Debility,
Dyi*pep«y» Uuiguor, Low Spirits. Confusion
il a# Palpitation of the Heart, Timidity. Tremblings,
of Sight or Giddiness, Disease of the Head,
Nose or Skin, Affections of the Liver, Lungs, Stem
r‘Bo««l-‘--those Terrible disorders arising from the
Ainrv Habit# of Youth—those SECRET and solitary prac
! I, m’jre fatal to theii victims than the song of Syreus to
I'.; Mariners of Ulysses, blighting their most brilliant
or anticipations, rendering marriage .Ac , Jmpossl-
l.lhjcUUv, who have become the victims pf SoliUry Vice,
dreadful and destuctive habit which annually sweeps
iu uatimriygiave thousands of Young Men of the most
-xiUted talent* and brilliant intellect, who might other
*i,-li»vo ontrauoed listening Senates with the thunders
or waked to ectasy the living lyre, may call
tub foil coufid?nce.
'JirrieJ Person#, or Young Men cotemplating marriage,
aware of physical weakness, organic debility, defor*
aiiv.ic.. speedily Cured. ]
He who places himself udder the care of Dr. J. may re-
udvconfvle iu hia honor as a gentleman, and confi
j-atU- relv upon liU skill as & physician.
immediiitely Cured, and full Vigor Restored.
riils DhltcssUig Affection—which renders Life miserable j
IU I marriage, impossible—is ths penalty paid by the!
-uuras of improper indulgences. Young persons are to
to commit excesses from not being awan* of the dread
i iiconsNQeuces that may ensue. Now, who that under
ii.tnii the subject will pretend to deny power of
creation, is lost sooner by those falling mto improper
usbiti than by the nrudent? Besides being deprived the
pleasures of. healthy offspring, the most serious and de
nrudive—symptom# t*> both body and: mint] arise. The
>vjterb becomes Deranged, the Physical and Mental Func
tions Weakened. Los-* of ProcreativtePower, Nervous Irri
tability, Dyspepsia. Palpitation of the Heart. Indigestion
Cjoaritutional Debility, a Wasting of the Frame, Cough,
Consumption, Decav and Death.
U!' 1 hand side going from Baltimore street, a few doors
iru.a the ciifner. Fail not to*observe name and number
Letters must ho paid and contain « stump. The Doc
:■•■■r'f* Diploraas.'hang in his office
■ xVb Mercury or Ifuseons Drugs.
'Umber of ine Hoyal College of Surgeons, London. Grad
3itf from one of the most eminent Colleges in the United
fi utes, and the greater part of whose life has been spent in
th* hospitals of London, Paris, Philadelphia and else*
ihere, has! effected some of the most astonishing cares
;!ut wore known; many troubled with ringing in the
brad and bars when asleep, great nervounno’su, being
firmed at!sudden sounds, bashfnlness, with frequent
Mualiipg, upended sometimes with derangement of mind,
**rs cured Immediately.
Dr.J. addpeues all those who have injured themselves
\t improper indulgence, and solitary habits, which ruin
Uh body and mind, unfitting them for either business,
‘taly. society of marriage.
These are some of the sad, and melancholy effects pro*
by early habits of youth, viz: Weakness of the
and Limbs, Palos in the Head, Dimness of Sight,
Ui of Muscular Power, Palpitation of the Heart, Dys-
Nervous Irritability, Derangement of the Diges
’■r - i’-inctions. General Debility, Symptom" of Consump
ti'-n. ic. 1
Mestallt.—The fearful effects of the mind are much to
- dreaded—Loss of Memory, Confusion of Ideas. D«v
r-siw of spirlta, Ki|il-Porebod!ng*. Aversion to Society,
'-Ji-Di-tmst, Love of Solitude, Timidity, Ac., are some of
b-orilrt produced.
r-Tuxng of persons of all ages can now judge what is
caniei of their declining health, loatag their rigor, be
ming weak, pale, nervous and em iciatcd, haying a sin*
i,n;lar appearance about the eyes, cough and symptoms of
vr. YOUNG MEN j t
"ho have injured themselves by a certain practice m
ialged lu when aloiio, a habit frequently learned from
'til companions, or at school, the effects of which are
“Uhily Mt, even when asleep, and If not cured renders
impoaible, and destroys both mind and body,
dwell apply immediately.
What » pity that a young mao, the hope of his country,
darling of his parents, should be snatched from all
prospects and enjoyments of life,,by the consequence of
•crUtiog from the path of nature, and Indulging in a
•'“rtain secret habit. Such peraon* MCBT, before contem
i'Utiug .
•'Sect that a sound mind and body are the most necessary
r *qaisites to promote cannabis] happiness. Indeed, with
these, the journey through life becomes a weary pH
intnage; the prospect hourly darken* to the view; the
am i becomes shadowed with despair and filled with the
**Uncho|y reflection that the happiness ol Another be-,
'c;n«a blighted with our own.
U , u disease of imprudence.
nnen the misguided and Imprudent votary of pleasure
that he has imbibed the eeeds of Ibis painfnl dis
*w" > ‘T too often happens that an ill-timed sense of shame,
r tread of discovery, deters him from applying to those
from education and respectability, can alone be
j[*; c £ him, delaying till the constitutional symptoms of
uu horrid disease make their appearance, such as ulcera
throat, diseased nose, nocturnal pain sin the bead
jal limbs, dimness of sight, deafness, nodes on the shin
and arms, blotches on the head, face and extreml-
progressing with frightful rapidity, till at last the
fkv th " month or the bones of the nose fall in, and
Tictim of this awful disease becomes a horrid object of
‘jmUeratiou, til! death puts a period to his dreadful
'r. ending him to “ that Undiscovered Country
oui whence no traveller returns.”
a melancholy fact that thousands fall victims to
• >*-tefribl« disease, owing to the unskillfulneas of igno
■’M pretender*. who, by the us© of that Deadly Pm son,
r tary, min the constitution and make the residue .of
,Ifr miserable
Dot yoar livfs, or httUth to the <M*re of the muuy
and Worthies* Pretenders, destitute of knowl
w.aaajecr character, wh> copy Dr. Johnston’s adver-
J ,® Ants - or style themselves. In the newspapers, regu>
'J QC4teil Physicians, Incapable of Curing, they keep
o i tri ® tQ ? month after month, taking their filthy and
.'J ou ® compounds, or as long as the smallest fee can
t>« - »f anf l indfcspalr. leave yon with ruined health
*gnloT« r your galling disappointment,
llu. j ton ** the only Physician advertising.
jji crp( * t * n tial or diplomas always hang In his office.
l>r*aa, re i U l w * ie * or treatment are unknown to all others, „
the ||A?• ,r3 ? B a Hf* rpent in the great hospitals of Europe.
IQ country and a more extensive Private Pra&
ot her Physician in the world.
Tbe-m159£ RSE, * , ! CNT OF THE PRESS*
*n!f o *i cared at this institution, year after
Prion,,li ”*• “hmaroor-important Surgical operations
m Johnston, witnessed by the reporters of the
*liich’l.,, "PP e r”-and it£ny oth*r papers, notices of
Iki T ° *?*«»» ap'l again before the public,
nti ' D K ** * gmalemen of character and re
is a sufficient guarantee to the afflicted.
X DISEASES speedily cured.
'iJttQn.d i. 1 - nnlflM p.»t-pai(' VI.I containing »
•S'and «“ th * re ,P'Y I’orson* writing .hould «t»te
Peri.m. *’ rtl ' n input describing symptoms
let,™ St2 q } A be in directing their
Institution, in tho following munher:
JOHNSTON. «. O., 1
Dfth, Bgltimor* took Hoipltal, MnrrU
: Mkmt ferit|.
Aik not—the foocly bearUhOtooe wIU.
Too plain the mournful story;
6on«i in their beauty and thqir pride.
To swel)l the make of glory-
Scarce any home tbat has not now
Some vacant, lonely ch lir;
Look in thelforward battle line—
Our bravest ar« all there!
They’ll tread again the gory steps
Our lather’s trod of yore;
Avenge the sacred blood that dyed
The stones at Baltimore! ‘
To shake from off onr banner’s fold
The dust that on it lay,
Qod takes his mighty'cause in band
God guides them on their way I
We’ve sent our best and bravest forth
To theseunhappy ware
To lift our country’s flag again.
The glorious Stripes and Stars.
To fight as gallant Lyon fought.
To fall as Wlnthrop felt!
To fill, perchance, a soldier’s gravf.
So, forward! and farewell!
At ihome the anxious hearts are full
Of many hopes and fears ;
And in the midnight hours alone.
We shed our bitter tears.
While coming daylight finds u* still
Whispering the toying prayer.
That God would take our absent ones
In his Almighty care!
Oh! mothers, wives, and maidens, K
Have each done what you could.
You’ve crushed the aching longing
..And sought your country’s good.
You’ve taught your lips to smile farewell,
And bravely met the day;
While yours the harder lot It is .
To wait, and watch and pray!
Oh, women, noble, suffering hearts.
Hope for a fairer dawn!
The hand that dealt the trial
Will give a brightening morn ! '
Pray on, then, with a mighty faith. ;
For freedom’s right and laws;
That, whosoever live or die.
God save bis holy cause-! -
Aad if they fall, (as fall they may)
With faces to the foe;
In mercy, Father, comTOrt send
Together with the blow.
Not for ourselves we pray.
Our “bravest and our best,”
Oh, guide them safely through the fray
Or take them (b Thy rest!
Breakfast was just over at the parson
age, the table was cleared away, the chairs
set back, and Mrs. Ashton, in a neat morn
ing dress, with a pretty little cap on her
pretty little head, was standing with- her
arm over her tall husband’s shoulder, look
ing at the morning papers. And as tine
looking a pair they were as you are likely
to see on a summer day. The Rev. Cle
ment Ashton was indeed regarded as the
handsomest man in the world, and that
with good reason. Whether he ever had
ah: idea of his own on the subject : was en
tirely his own affair.
Mrs. Ashton, as she was styled by the
parish —Christiana as her godfather and
godmother named her—Chrissy as her
brothers and her husband hailed her—was
not usually regarded as remarkably hand
some. Her features were not very regular,
and she was not very fair, but ? her eyes
were so bright and so clear, lied figure so
elastic and trim, her abundant, hair, and
above all, her frank manner, and the
expression of sunny-good temper and per
fect openness lighting up her facet, made
most' people consider her a very attrac
tive woman. Every one in the parish liked
her, from the two old people who sat near
the stpve in church, and always came
round to get their dinner at the parsonage
on Sunday, to'Mrs. Dr. Rush, who was by
far the grandest lady in the parish.
Mr. and Mrs. Ashton had been married
blit six months, after an; engagement' of
almost 'three years, during which time,
they had corresponded vigorously, but had
seen.very little of each other, for Mr.
Ashton, was an assistant in an overgrown
parish in'one of the huger cities, andcould
seldom be Spared: and Chrissy was a teach
er in another great city, where she support
ed herself and helped by her labors to
educate one of her brotherafor the ministry.
It was not till this brother had finished
his studies, and was on an independent
footing that she had consented to he mar
■ ‘‘George caunot support himself entire
ly,” she said, in answer to the remonstrance
of her lover ,} “he is not strong enough to
labor as many of the young" men do, and
he needs my help. I know- that he has
talents that will make him eminently use
ful in the calling he has chosen. I know,
tiro, that if he attempts any more than
he is doing, iris health will fail, and he will
become discouraged. You must .content
yourself to board awhile longer with your
good friend Mrs. Biekler, Clement.”
And to this resolution; she steadfastly
adhered, despite Clement’s persuasions
and those of George, who was much dis
tressed at the thought .that his sister’s
marriage should be put off on his account.
Ijnilcr these circumstances the lovers did
not see each other, and they were fipaUy
married without Chrissy ever having sirs-
pec ted her husband of any infirmity of
temper. She had suffered much on discov
ering that such was the cash, and felt in
clined sometimes to wish had never
been disenchanted: but she was a very
wise woman ; she knew jher husband’s
intrinsic .excellencies, and his strength as
well as his weakness, and altering an old
maxim to suit her purpose, she resolved
both to endure And cure. !
“What do you set about to-day ?” said
she, as Mr. Ashton arose from the corner
of the sofa, having exhausted the paper.
“Visiting,” replied his reverence. “I
must go up to old Mrs. Balcomb’s and see
the Joneses, and try to prevail on Phil
Taggart to let his children Come to Sunday
school once more. Then I have to see
Maggie .Carpenter, who is much worse
again; and'if 1 have time I shall get into
the omnibus and ride out to the mills to
see that girl Miss Flower mentioned to
me yesterday.”
“What a round!” exclaimed Chrissy.
“You will never get home tjodinner at two
o’clock. I think I, will put it off till six,
and run the risk of being thought stuck
up, like poor cousin Lily.
“What do vou mean ?”
‘‘Why, you know they always* dine at
,six, to suit the doctor's arrangements. —
One day, Lilly called about some ' society
matter on a lady who lived not a hundred
miles from her street, about five o’clock in
the atternoou. The lady herself came to
the door, and Lily was about entering,
when she thought she perceived the smell
,of roast beef in the hall, and said, very po
litely —
“ ‘Perhaps, it is now your dinner hour ?’
“ ‘No, indeed !’ replied madam, with in
dignation. We don’t dine at this time
of day ; we are not so stuck up'?’ ”
“Poor Lily!” exclaimed Mr. Ashton,
laughing. “What did she say?”
“Oh ! she did her errand and
course. There was nothing to be siJH.”
Mr, Ashton turned to go into the study,
and as he did so his foot caught in the
carpet, and he was nearly thrown down.
Chrissy started in alarm, but he recovered
himself, and said, pettisl^y —
“I wish you would liave that carpet
nailed down. I have stumbled over it
twenty times in the course of a week, I
ready believe.”
“ I thought Amy had fastened it down,”
replied his wife, with mildness. “I am
sure I saw her at work there. The door
must pull it out of place, 1 think.”
“ Oh! of course, there is some excellent
reason for it being out of order. It seems
to me that, with all your ingenuity, you
might find some way of making it more
He turned into the 1 study, shutting the
door after him with uuecessary force, and
Mrs. Ashton returned to the fire and
arranged her work basket for the day,
with something of a cloud on her face.
She was not left long undisturbed, Mr.
Ashton’s voice was soon heard calling her
in an impatient tone. She sighed, but
arose and entered the next room, where
she found her husband before his bureau,
partly dressed, and with shirts, handker
chiefs and cravats scattered about him like
a new kind of snow, while his face bore
an expression Of melancholy reproach at
once painful and ludicrous.
“ What is the matter ?” she asked.
“Oh ! the old story. No button where
it ought to be! Not a shirt ready for wear!
Ido not mean to be unreasonable,” he
continued, in an agitated voice, us he
tumbled over the things, to the manifest
discomfiture of the clean linen; “ but. really,
1 think you might see that my clothes are
in order. lam sure that I would do more
than that for you, but here I am decayed
ai)d put to the greatest inconvenience be
cause you cannot sew on these buttons.
I should think a little of the time you
spend in writing to George and Henry
might as well be bestowed on me.”
This address was delivered in a tone of
mournful distress which might have been
justified, perhaps, if Mrs. Ashton had
picked his pocket of his sermon as he was
going to church.
“ What is the matter with this shirt?” ;
said Chrissy, quietly examining one of the
discarded garments. “It seems to have
all the buttons in their places ; and this
one, too, is quite perfect; and here is
another. My dear husband, how many
shirts do you usually wear at a time?”
“ Oh! it is very well for you to smile, j
my love; but I do assure you that I found {
several with ho means of fastening the
wristbands. I We had breakfasted late;
and now I. shall be detained half an hour
When I ought to be away. I know you
mean wall; but if you had served a year’s
apprenticeship to my mother before you
were married, it might have been all the
better for your housekeeping.”
“ It might have prevented it altogether,”
thought Chrissy ; but the thought was re
pressed in a moment.
She then picked up and replaced the
scattered apparel, folded the snowy cra
vats, wanned her husband’s overshoes,
I and saw that the beautiful little commun
! ion service presented by a lady of the
I parish, and consecrated to such suffers as
j Maggie Carpenter, was in readiness.
Before he left the house, Mr. Ashton
had forgotten both his fretfulness and its
cause. He kissed his wife, ;thauked ■ her
for her trouble, and proposed that i she
should*send for Lily to spend the day with
her, and strode away with his usual elas
ticity of step. ;
Chrissy watched him fr3in the door until
he tamed into the next street, and then
went back to the fireside and her own
The fretfuluess and tendency to be dis
turbed at little matters was’almost her
husband’s only fault. He was self sacri
ficing to the last degree; faithful and in
defatigable as an apostle, almost, in. his
professional labors, liberal to a fault, and,
in bis administration of parish matters,
wise and concilitating to aiL He could
bear injuries, real injuries, with the great
est patience,- and was never known to show
But with all these good qualities Mr.
Ashton had one fault—a fault which threat
ened to disturb, and finally ' destroy the
comfort of married life. Jf his wife had
by extravagance or bad management,
wasted his income and involved him in
dfficulties, it is probable that he would
ne\*er have, spoken an unkind word to her;
but the fact of a button being missed, or
a book removed from its place, would
produce a lamentation, half indignant and
half pathetic, which rung in Chrissy’s
ears, find made her heart ache after Cle
ment had forgotten the circumstance alto
■Strange as it may seem, Mr. Ashton
never thought of this habit, of which he
was but imperfectly conscious] as to its be
ing a fault. He thought, indeed, that it
was a pity he should be sensitive, and
sometimes said" that he' wished he had
not such love for order and symmetry, for
then he should not be so often annoyed by
the disorderly habits of other people. —
He said to himsejf that it wag one of his
peculiar trials that even Chrissy, perfect
as she was, did not come up to his ideas in
this respect; but that the temper with
which he met what he was pleased to call
his peculiar trials ever became a trial to
other people he did not imagine. He had,
indeed, remarked, in spite of himself, that
Chrissy’s face was not as cheerful, nor her
spirit as light as when they were first mar
ried, and he regretted that the cares of
housekeeping should weigh heavily upon
her : but nothing was further from his
thoughts than that anything in himself
could have produced the change.
Mi - . Ashton, exhausted with his day’s
work turned towards home with his mind
full of all be had seen and felt. He said
very little during dinner, but when the
table cloth was removed, and when he sat
down in his dressing gown and slippers
before the fire, he related to his wife all
the events of the day, describing with all
the enthusiasm of his earnest nature the
patience and holy resignation he had wit
nessed, and ended by saying—
“ Certainly, religion has power to sustain
and console under all trials, and under
every misfortune—”
“Excepting the loss of a; button,” re
plied Chrissy, seriously. “That is a mis
fortune which neither philosophy nor re
ligion can enable, one to sustain.”
The Bev. Mr. Ashton started as though
a pistol had been discharged at his ear.
“Why, what do you mean, Chrissy?
“Just what I say,” returned Chrissy,
with the same soberness. “Yourself, for
instance ; You .can bear with the greatest
resignation the: loss of friends and misfor
tune. I never -saw you ruffled by rude
ness or abuse from others, nor show any
impatience under severe pain; but the loss
of a button from your shirt, or a nail
from the carpet, gives you a perfect Sight
to be unreasonable, unkind,: and I must
say it—unchristian.”
Mr. Ashton arose and walked up and
down the room in some agitation.
“I did not think, my love,” he said, at
last, in a trembling tone, “that you would
attach so much importance to a single
hasty Word—perhaps, I spoke too quickly;
but, even if it were so, did we not prom
ise to be patient with each other’s infirmi
ties? I am-very glad to bear with—
Mr. Ashton paused. He was an emi
\ neatly truthful man, and . upon considera
tion he could not rembember that he ever
had anything to bear from his wife, aside
from the shirt buttons, etc., which he was
now becoming .conscious he had not borne
| very patiently.
“If it were once, my dear husband, I
should Say nothing about it; but you do
not seem in the least aware how the habit
has grown upon you. There has not
been a day this week in which you have
not made my heart ache by some such out
burst of fretfulness.”
Mr. Ashton was astonished; but, as be
began to reflect he was still more sur
prised to And that his wife’s accusations
were quite true.
One day it: had been about the front
door mat, the next about a mislaid re
view, and then a lost pair of gloves, which,
after all, were found in his own pocket.
He felt that it was all true, and his own
conscience brought forward' one instance
of unkindness after another—real unkind
ness—he sat down again and covered his
face with his hands.
“But this is not the worst,” continued,
Chrissy, becoming agitated in turn. “I
fear—l cannot help fearing—that 1 r shall
be led to feel as I ought not towards you.
I fear lest I shall in time lose the power
of respecting my husband; and when re
spect goes, Clement, love does not last
long. This yery morning I found myself
wishing I had never known yon.”
Chrissy burst into tears, an unusual
demonstration for her; and Clement,
springing up, once more traversed the
room once or twice, and then sat down by!
his wife’s side
“Christiania.” he said, mournfully, “I
have deserved —I feel that I have, but to
lose your respect, your love—my punish
ment is greater than I can bear, Chrissy.”
“It was blit the thought of a moment,”
replied Chrissy, checking her sobs; “but 1
am frightened that the idea should have
entered my head. If I should, I would
rather die this moment.” 1
“God forbid!” ejaculated her husband,
as he elasped her in his arms. “But
why, my dearest, have you neyer told me
of this before?”
“It is neither a grateful; nor a graceful
office for a wife to reprove her husband,
nor a woman her pastor,” replied Chrissy*
laying her head on his shoulder; “and if
I had not been left here all day, I think I
should have hardly gotl up my courage
now. But if you are lidt angry, I am
glad that 1 have told you all that was in
ray heart; for, indeed, my dear, it has
been a sal, aching heart this time. And
now 1 must tell you bow ;tbose two un
lucky shirts came to be buttonless.”
“No, don’t say one word 1 about them*
my love,” said Clement, impatiently. “I
will never complain again, if the sleeves
are missing as well as tjie buttons.”
“But. I must tell you, because I really
mean to have my housekeeping affairs in
as good order as any one. I was looking
over your shirts, yesterday afternoon, and
put them all to rights but these two, when
Mrs. Lennox came in in great distress to
say that her sister’s child was much worse,
and they feared dying; so I dropped all
and went over there. You know how it
was. No one had any calmness nor pres
ence of mind. The child’s convulsions
were frightful to witness; the mother was
in hysterics, and Mrs. Lennox was worse
than nobody at all. It was nearly mid
night before I could get away, and in the
meantime Amy bad put the room in or
der, and restored the shirts to their places,”
Here Amy put her head into the room—
“If you please, missus, a young womah
in the kitchen would like to see missus a
minute.”' *»;.
The mistress arose and went into the
kitchen* and Mr. Ashton, taking a candle
from the table entered : the study and
lodged hirnself in. Chrisey waited for a
long time, and at last went and tapped at
the door. It was opened to her with a
fervent kiss, and though there were nut
many words said on either side, there was
a light in the eyes of the husband and
wife which showed the understanding was
perfect between them.
Do Yota own Woiut. —Enlarge not
thy destiny, says the oracie; endeavor not
do to more than is given thee in charge; the
one evil is : dissipation ; and it makes no
difference whether our dissipation ate
coarse or fine. Property and its cares,
friends and a social habit, or politics, Or
music, or feasting —everything is good
which takes away one plaything and de
lusion more, and drives us home to add
one stroke of ffubful work. Friends,
books, pictures, lower duties, talents, flat
teries’ hopes—all are distractions which
cause oscillations in our giddy balloon,
and make a good poise: and a straight
course impossible. You must elect your
work; you should take what yonr brain
can, and drop the rest. Only so can that
amount of vital force accumulate which
can make the step from knowing to doing.
Skedaddle. —The Historical Magazine
for the current month says that this word
may be, easily traced to a Greek origin,
and that the original word is used by at
least two great historians* in reporting the
dispersion; of routed armies. A corres
pondent of the Magazine thus speaks _pf
“It is of both Swedish and Danish ori
gin, and has been in common use for sev
eral years through the North-west, in the
vicinity of immigrants from those nations.
It is Americanized Only r in orthography,
the Swedes spelling it ‘ studdadaal ,’ while
the Danes spell it ‘skyededekl,’ both hav
ing precisely the same signification. This
phrase is also becoming Indianized, at
least among the Sioux, who frequently use
it in place of their word ‘poch-a-chee,'
which signifies ‘clear out,’ ‘go off,’ &c. I
will also add that the Swedes use the
word s£udda, and the Danes the wore
styede, in the same sense as we do the
word scud.” ; '
A Danish writer speaks of a hut so
miserable that it didn’t know which way
to fall, and so kept standing. This Is
like the man that had such a complication
of diseases that he did not know whi&
one of them to (fie of, and so he lived on.
: To thk Point. —A good story and a true
one, is told of Gen. Dotryea, while he was
stationed at Baltimore, as the Brigadier
Commanding. He addressed a note to a
person who had ordered a petty fanner
upon his land, some nine miles from town,
to haul down the national flag. The
lather- in-law of this man, a president of
oneaf the banks, waited on the General to
know whether ho had written the note.
“I did,” said the General. "Are yon the
“No; lam his father-in-law.”
“I give you thirty minutes to produce
your son-in-law in this office!”
“But General—J”
“Thirty minutes, sir, thirty minutes!”
The two came at the appointed time,
and the offender confessed that, he'had
committed the offence against the flag.
“You must, both of you, take the oath,”
said the General, “and I give yon, sir,
two houjs to hoist that flag upon the same
spot where it was pulled down.”
“But General—?”
“Two hours, sir, two hours, or you
both go to Fort McHenry !” The flag
went up at the appointed time, and there
it has floated ever since, and the two are
now sworn Union men.
CT We wish we could remove one fal
lacy from the Northenf mind, and that is
the fallacy that labor performed by negroes
on the plantations of the South cannot be
done by white men. We say it can; be
done cheaper and better. Intelligent and
independent southerners will admit this.
Why, the white farmers of the west, in
their harvest season, work and are happy
and healthy under a sun quite as oppres
sive as that of this lattitude. The hod car
riers of the North with no wool to sheath
their heads, work as no negro could work
in a sun quite as broiling as anything ex
amination of the philosopher and the states
man. And we' will anticipate events so
far as to say, that a sugar plantation will
be worked in this State by white men be
fore the year is out. Don't .then believe
those who tell you that a white man can't
do what a negro can. He can do all a
negro can, in the way of laboring in the
sun, and as much more.—Woo Orleans
Fbiohtfdl Scene.—A Kerry paper
(Ireland) says that a lion in Bell’s Hippo
drome Circus seized a visitor named Cour
nane by the coat-sleeve, dragged him close
to the cage, and made an effort to catch
him by the collar of his coat. The man,
to save himself, ducked his head under '
the flooring of his cage; the lion then
caught him with his paw by the upper
part of his shoulder, and held him lor a
few seconds. The keeper struck the lion
several heavy blows on the paw, which
still kept its hold of Conmane. The
keeper continued to ply his loaded whip
vigorously on the paw of the lion, which,
in a few minutes, loosed his hold, and
Cournane escaped with a deep cnt on the
beck of his hand and a severer one on his
shoulder. \
•T At Worcester Assizes, a cause was
tried about the soundness of a horse, in
which a clergyman, not educated in the
school of Tattersal, appeared as a witness.
He was confused in giving his evidence
and a furious blustering counsellor, who
examined him, was at last tempted to ex*
claim —,
Pray sir, do you know the difference
between a horse and a cow?
‘I acknowledge my ignorance,’ replied
the clergyman; ‘I hardly know the differ*
ence between a bully and a bull, only that
a bull, 1 am told, has horns, and a bully,’
bowing respectively to the counsellor,
HucJdly for me, has none.’
Avoid Bad Company.—The following
little fable contains a deaf of wisdom':
and editors, clergymen—indeed all rltinnni
in society will do well to remember it and
govern themselves accordingly.
“A skunk once challenged a lion to a
single combat. The lion promptly de
clined the honor of such a meeting.”
“How,” said the skunk, “are you
“Very much ao,” quoth the lion, “for
yon would only gain fame by having the
honor to fight a lion, while every one who
met me for a month to come would know
that I had been in company with askunk.”
Time wears slippers of list, and his
trade is noiseless. The days come, In
dian file, softly dawning one after another;
they creep in at the windows j'their fresh
morning air is grateful to the lips of those
who pant for it; their music is mtt to
the ear that listens to it; until, before we
know it, a whole life of days has posses
sion of the citadel, and time has taken us
.for its own.
«r “ Well, what next!” said Mrs. Par
iugton as she interrupted Ike, who WM
reading the war news—** the pickets wore
driven u» five miles." “Blem toy soul, tita*
will make a strong fence. ; I soffese they
bed to be drivenindeep tat
sionaders from digging dot iroder'^t&aOL
no. se