BY DAVID OVER.
BEL E0 T POE TR Y . |
For 'the Inquirer.
ACROSTIC.
Alas! I cannot wake the muse.
Nor ought I tiins thy name abuse—
Name ever dear t< rue.
E.—on tly brow I Cain would bind,
Love's fairest gems, pure and refined;
Make frag nut flowers, of sweet perfume,
In verdure round thy life's way bloom;
Rich blessings may st thou have in store.
An i thy life's eup with j >y run o'er.
Bet there's a world more bright and fair,
Above the earth, and may'at thou there
Rich treasures too possess;
Now, may the Fount of Life and Truth,
Direct the footsteps of thy youth,
Obey, mid God will bless;
Let not earth's vain and glittering toys.
Lure thee from pure, celestial joys,
And may'rt thou, in thy youthful blood.
Remember thy Creator, GOD.
J. B W.
T"i R>AR G ROVE, Ky., Oct. 28, 1858.
From the Poemiof fleet he, in Blackwood.
THE TRKISI K SEEKER
Every tun is, more or less, a treasure seek
er—a hater of labor until ho has received the
important truth, that labor alone can bring
content and happiness. There is an affiuity,
strange as it may appear, between those whose
lot in life is the most exalted aud the haggard,
hollew-eyod wretch who prowls, incessantly,
iround the crumbling ruins of the past, iu the
oelief that there is in their foundations a
mighty treasure, over which some jealous de
moo keeps watch forever.
.Matty weary days I sufl'er'd,
Sick of heart and poor of purse;
Riches are the greatest blessings—
Poverty the deepest curse !
Till at last, to dig a treasure,
Forth 1 went into the wood—
"Friend ! my soul is thine forever !*'
And I signed the scroll with blood,
Then I drew the magic circle,
Kindled the mysterious tiro,
PliC.d the herbs and bones is order,
Spoke the incantation dire ;
And I sougiittbe buried metal
With the spell o( micklc might-
Sought it as ruy master taught me !
Black and stormy was the night.
And I saw a light appearing
Ir. the distance, like a star;
When the midnight hour was tolling,
Came it waxing from afar ;
Came it flashing swift and sudden,
As if fiery wine it were,
Flowing from an open chailice,
Which a beauteous boy did bear.
As he wore a lustrous chaplet,
And his eyes were full of thought,
As he stepped into the circle
With the radiance that he brought,
And he bade me taste the goblet;
Ancl thought!—"lt cannot he,
That this boy should be the bearer
Of a demon's gift's to me !"
"Taste the draught of pure existence,
As it sparkles in the golden urn,
Aud no more with hainful magic
Shalt thou hitherward return.
Do not dig for treasure longer:
Let thy future spellword be
Days of labor, nights of resting;
So shall peace return to thee!"
For the Inquirer.
PLEA3ANTVILLE CELEBRATION.
Mr. OVER: —I wish a small space in your
excellent columns, to give a short account of
the celebration of the people's Party at Pleas
antville, on the 30th ult., of the glorious re
sult of the election on tho 12th of October—
the victory in the State, and the Congressional
aud Legislative Districts.
The number of people there was beyond all
expectation; they rolled in from the hills and
the vallies, till our little village was crowded.
About GJ o'clock tha celebration commenc
ed. The evening being dark, it was thought
test to have a little light on the occasion. A
tar barrel was foruisbed by G. D. Trout, Esq.,
which was hoisted about ten feet in the air, and
was carried af9bnd the town, making a very
brilliant large banners followed
next, then the fifes and drum, amidst firing of
guus, and shouts of "victory ! victory 1" whilst
fire-balls flew in every direction. After this
performance, the crowd repaired to the Pleas
untvill# Inn, where Win. Kirk, Esq., was cal
led upon for a speech, and responded in a neat
and pertinent address, congratulating the peo
ple ou the memorable and signal victory
achieved on the second Tuesday of October,
over the plundering hordes of Locofoeoism,
and the corropt national administration which
attempted to crush the liberties of a free peo
ple. He urged the |*ople to persevere in the
good work so well begun. Ho was frequently
cheered throughout his address, after which the
meeting adjournea with loud cheers for the
good oause.
Everything passed off pleasautly, and all
were well pleased. \V.
A Weekly Paper, Devoted to Literature, Politics, the Arts, Sciences, Agriculture, &c., &c—Terms: One Dollar and Fifty Cents in Advance.
THE MANIAC.
BT EDA MAYVTLLE.
"Then you are really in earnest, Mart ?"
said Philip Emmons, as the two sat in the qui
et little parlor of the village inn.
"Never was more so in my life," answered
Martin, raising a glass of Ohauipaigoe to his
lips and then setting back lazily upon the sofa.
"1 never had the most distant idea of marry
ing Gonna Ilowe, and if she has flittered her
self into any suoh belief it's no fault of mine.
I've no particular objection to the girl, she is
well enough for aught I know, but the fact of
the matter is, lam too confoundedly incon
stant to ever marry anybody. It's a kind of
constitutional weakness, and 1 don't Know as I
regret it. Nothing like variety, you kuow."
"But Mart, do you have no misgivings? —
Supposing some pretty girl, little blue-eyed
Lucy there, whom you used to take to all the
balls and sleightag par'ies to be heard of —
supposing fur instance she had become so much
attached as to break her little loving heart
when aware of your desertion, wouldn't that
spark of celestial fire kuowu as conscience
trouble you some ?"
"You are making out a serious case, Phil.
I should, I confess, be sorry to plead gayety to
so grave a charge as sending a young innoeeut
girl like my half-forgotten pet Lucy sorrowing
to the tomb, but as regards Geuna Howe, I
never—well, yes, I believe I have, too, given
the girl some reason to think 1 loved her, but
she ought to be o better judge of character
than to suppose I would keep ail my promises
or that I was sincere when 1 said ''l coulJ nev
er love another,"
"Well," said Phi!, "as f.ir little Lucy, 1
think she is a girl of too souud judgment to
mourn loug for a fellow of your stamp, in case
she ever eared for you. But Genna, poor
child, i pity her from my very heart; I do, in
deed. Why, Martin, if there is any such thing
upon earth as pure, un-selfish unadulterated
love, Genoa Howe feels it for you. I verily
believe she would sacrifice her life if she
thought by so doing she could add one drop to
your eup of happiness."
"Oh. be doue with your sweet cider non
sense," exclaimed Martin, laughing; "it don't
take with mo; it goes down very well with airy
brained simpletons. But, Phil, seriously, 1
have no faith in these heart-broken girls. Justj
let some handsome, dashiug young blade, with j
foreign airs and a pocket full of cash, come J
around and begin to assume the 'devoted,' I j
guess the smashed-np concerns they call hearts
would men<i rapidly."
"That may apply as a general rule, hut 1
fear Genua is an exception. God grant that
she is not," answered Philip, solemnly.
"Well, well," said Martin, gaily, taking
another draught of the sparkliug beverage,
"she will find out very soon, I'm thinking.—
By-the by, I forgot to mention that I'm off for
Europe next week on a two years' tour. That
will give Gonna, the darling, a chauee to for
get ail about me—while I, likely as auy way,
will take to tuy heart, and home some languish
ing Italian, or pretty little Greek. 11a! ba! 1
that's the plan !" And with a low Low to his
friend, Martiu left the apartment, to complete
his preparations for his projected voyage.
Martiu Aubrie was in every sense a man of
the world, gay, winning in his manners, and
always the polished geutlemau.
lie had met Get.na Howe some six months
prior to the conversation just narrated, was
pleased wuh her gentle gayety, and quiet, la
dylike deportment; he had sought her acquaiu
tauce and for a time appeared the most zealous
of lovcis.
Fondly he lingered by her side, poured iu
her willing car the sweet persuasive acceuts of
never-changing love, wrought upon her young
imagination until ho seemed to her a being of
almost celestial birth. With a feeling little
less than idolatry she regarded him—worship
ping, never dreaming that he, whose image fil
led her every thought could be less true or
devoted than herself. Ah! what hopes and
j >ys depart with the light feet of early youth,
how deailv is purchased the happiness of lov
ing too fondly !
About tbiee weeks after Martin Aubrie had
expressod his intentions so decidedly to his
friend, Genna Howe was quietly seated in her
little dressing room, busily engaged iu arrang
ing a vase of delicate wax flowers.
Very beautiful was Genua as she sat there
in her morning robe of snowy muslin, her sun
ny curls shading her fair, childlike face, and
her long dark lashes drooping over lior bright
azure eyes. lovely was Genna as she sat '
thus, fondly thinking of the absent loved one, i
and weaviug bright fairy visions of the future. J
Soon her meditations were unceremoniously in- ;
terrupted by her friend and confidante, Bessie ,
Emmons.
"Good morning, Geuna," sho exclaimed, !
casting herself with the air of one perfectly at
home into a comfortable lounging chair. "Hid
you know Martin Aubrie has gone to Eu- j
rope 1"
"No," replied Genna, surprised. "1 think i
you must be wrongly informed; ho certainly
would never have goue without my knowledge j
—and this is the first 1 have heard of it." j
"But, Genna, 1 am not mistaken," persisted j
Bessie; "be has been gone a week, and he told
brother Philip that he should not return for !
two years."
"Gone! gone,and not one parting word.—
Ob, Bessie, this is too cruel; it cannot be," j
aDd buryiDg her face in her hands, Genna ro
utained some moments in deep thought.
"1 would not care, GeuDa," said Bessie,
soothingly. "Brother Phil says ho is a worth
less scamp —and you can't think how unfeel
ingly he talked about you; satd be did not love j
you, and laughed at the idea of making you
his bride. Don't, Genna, look
BEDFORD. PA., FRIDAY. NOVEMBER 12, 18-58.
so; ho is not worlh grieving about. I would
not care, I am sure I would not."
"You have never loved, Bessie," said Genna,
in a hollow voice, gazing vacantly arouud, ber
face colorless as marble. "Did he say he did
not love me, dear Martin ?—no,Bessie —no. —
It was in the little arbor we were, when he
clasped mv hand and pressed it to his lips, and
then he told me
"What was it, Bessie?'said the poor girl,
pressing ber hand against her burning brow.—
My head aches so hard. I cannot remember.
You know, Bessie? 1 told you all about it—
what did be tell me ? That I was a star; yes,
a bright beautiful star that shown but for him,
and that 1 would be the light of his life. Yes,
Bessie, did he not say so ? How foolish, how
unkind of me to doubt him.
•'No, no, Bessie, lie loves me still ; he can
never forget his own Genua. Do you not think
he will come to-night? he loves me so. How
dark it is here, Bessie, I caunot see you I"
and with a deep groan the wretched girl sank
insensible upon the floor.
Half frantic with terror at the effect of her
thoughtless words, Bessie sprang to the bell
and rang it violently, then kueeliug beside the
pale, immovable form of Genua, she besought
her iu piteous tones to speak, if hut one little
word. But Genua remained as she had fallen,
coid and rigid, her eyes fixed, and every fea
ture wearing the impress of deu'h. The family
and physicians were soon present, but all their
efforts to rouse her fiom the deathlike stupor
into which she had fallen, were unsuccess
ful.
Sadly Bessie lingered at her bedside, vain'y
regretting the careless man net in which she
had spoken, little tbiuking how deep and last
ing was the love ti.at found a home in the heart
ot her youug friend.
Six days passed, and no change. The morn
ing of the seventh dawned; pile and sorrowful,
Bessie loaned over the low ;ouch where rested
(he lovely form of Geuua. There she lay
shrouded iu her white robes, pale and beauti
ful; but as Bessie gazed,she fancied she detect
ed a slight change. With fear and tromhling
she placed her hand upon her heart; there was
a gentle throbbing, scarce perceptible. K rn
estly did Bessie watch; soon a litile glow, like
the first faint flush of morning, tinged her pal
lid countenance, aud her lips moved audibly—
"Martin." Bessie caught tbo sound.
Slowly and languidly, Genoa moved ber
ayes, and gazed wonderfully upon the many
faces that were by this time beolover her.
"Who told tne Martin bad gone ? who said
he did not love me l " she asked iu weak, trem
ulous tones.
"Martin wiilcorne soon," said Bessie, gent
ly. ••Lie still, now; yon have been ill, dar
ling, but you are better now, and uiust be very
quiet."
"Yes. did Martin say I was ill ? No, no, he
said he loved u>e! be is whispering to uie now !
he says I ain the sweet spirit of all his waking
dreams," and dosing her eyes she sauk into a
peaceful slumber.
******
We will drop the curtaiu over the days and
weeks that elapsed ore Gcuna regained strength
sufficient to enable her to arise from that bed
of sufferiug. We will not attempt to portray
the heart-rending agony of her loving parents
and friends, when it was discovered that she,
the young, the beautiful, who but a little time
ago gladdened every heart with her playful
mirth aud winning smiles, was now a hopeless
maniac, the victim of tuau's inconstancy.
Five years with their burden of joys and sor
rows, smiles and tears, sped swiftly by.
Martin Aubrie, young, baudsome, and gay as
over, sits in bis quiet breakfast parlor; unou
bis shoulder leans a dark-eyed, beautiful wo
man, his wife. Two sweet playful children
complete the picture.
"Well, good morning, wife, I'm off to the
counting-house, now," said Martin, rising; and
kissing his hand to his lovely nabes. bo passed
out of the room, while his wife, placing a box
of toys upon the carpet, retired to her chamber;
but a few moments elapsed ere she again enter
ed the parlor. O, God! what a sight met her
eyes! There lay her beauteous babes, with a
fearful gash across their fair white throats,
from which poured forth the crimson tide in
frightful streams.
Over them stood Genna, the perpetrator of
this fiendish deed, robed in white flowing gar
ments, her arms and neck bare, her face pale,
and her eyes gleaming with the wild light of
insanity. Brandishing her knife, she said, in a
deep, piercing tone:
"1 swore I would kill them; I saw Martin
carry them in his arms; I saw him press his
lips to their little baby faces; 1 know he loves
thetu, but he told me onoe that he loved me,
and I believed him, and now people point me
out, and call me mad ! No, no, lam not
mad." Then turning, she fled from the apart
ment, leaving Mrs. Aubrie transfixed with
grief and amazement.
As soon as the horrible affair was noised
abroad, a search was instituted for the murder
ess, but Genua had mysteriously disappeared.
No one had seen her —no ono could gain any
tidings of her.
One morniug, three months after the unholy
sacrifice of his little ones, Martin Aubrie again
entered his counting room. He was very pale,
and a shade of deep melancholy rested upon
his handsome countenance.
He had scarcely reached his desk ere he felt
a light hand laid upou his arm, and, turning,
his eyes met those of her he had so deeply
wronged—pale and wildly beautiful she stood
before him. "Martin Aubrie," said she, iu a
deep hurried whisper, that thrilled his very
soul, "we meet at lastand drawing from her
bosom a knife still stained with the blood of
his innocent children, before any ono could be
aware of her intentions, she plunged it deep
into his heart.
Years have panted.
Genna Howe, the beautiful maniac, is no
more. She sleeps in her narrow homo, while
over her the cypress and the willow wave their
mournful boughs. She sleeps at last, and who
shall gay that he, the gay deceiver, 'he destroy
er of her young life's happiness—merited not
his dark, sad fate ?
ROYAL POLITENESS.
A Scotch newspaper, which evidently is de
ficient in the feeling commonly kuown as loy
alty among the English, profanely has a cut at
"ller most Gracious Majesty," Queen Victo
ria. It appears that, accompanied by her hus
band and some of her children, Victoria lately
visited the town of Leeds, on the way to Scot
land, with the expressed purpose of opening a
magnificent Town Hall, which the Leeds peo
ple have lately built. The Glasgow Examiner
saysr *
"Among the curiosities of royal life it may
be worth while to state that, though the mayor
of Leeds gave up his mansion to the Queen,
and spent .£IO,OOO in entertaining her, his la
dy was not allowed to dine with iter, or even
see her. The mayor himself had beet; com
manded to dine with the Queen, but the lady
was not admitted in her own house to sit at her
own table."
It this be a true bill, and it is precisely
what we know to have occurred repeatedly, at
other places visited by the Queen, it is a fine
specimen of cool impertinence. The mayor.
Mr. Fiitrbairn, received the honor of Kuight
bood, uftd is now called "Sir Peter," but this
is a scajßly equivalent for the compliment he
be pai*Hr .Majesty, at a vast expense. Ano
ther ndptpaper states that Lady Fair bairn had
receivef a hraceiet from the Queen, (after the
publication of the above announcement) but
docs not add that, with true wominiy spirit,
she hadfrefused to accept a present from aiady,
however exalted in rank, who would not sit
down to table with ber, would not even see her.
This extlusiveness would be very amusing if it
were not very impertinent sometimes. What a
pity it is that the exigencies of State etiquel te
should compel Queeu Victoria—really a very
good-natured little womau—to do unkind aud
unmannerly things. One would have thought,
in the instance ot one of her own sex, the wife
of her generous and devoted host, sbo would
have wcHfiJ AifTerenfly.— Press.
ELECTION SCENES IN NORTH CAROLINA.—
A correspondent of the Pendelton Messenger,
reporting a trip through Spartenburg to North
Carolina, gives some illustrations of "election
• lines," which may be interesting and sueges
tiv :
"Arrived at the election ground, there was
a sight worth seeing. Apple brandy ruled.—
There were about as many women as men on
the ground. This is a peculiar feature in North
Carolina gatherings—the women nearly all
attend, and it results beneficially sometimes. 1
once saw a fellow get into a fight at one of
those elections, while his wife was along with
him. The front yard of the doggery had been
gravelled with very coarse gravel. Our hero
pulled off his shirt and pitched in, but was
soon made to bite the—gravel. Hero No. 2
jumped on him, but was no sooner on than off,
for our first named heroes wife gathered a boop
pole and such a lamming as hero No. 2 got it
has uot been my fortune to see sioce. All
hands stood off aud saw it well doDe. Ilern
No. 1 was a sight. Imagine a man's back full
of coarse gravel—gouged in through the skin.
"Iu approaching the election ground, young
tneu and women could be seen sitting ou logs
in the woods, eating ginger cakes and drinking
cider and brandy. Heap of land to the acre
there. One fellow jumped out of a shanty
there where they kept their apple brandy, and
swore that he could whip the man that had
anything against hiui. Everybody seemed too
drunk to take much uotice of him. Two fel
lows got to scuffling on a large scaffold, and
down it came, causing a general row. Some
were knocked down by the falliug of the scaf
fold, and supposing somebody had knocked
them down, pitched in promiscuously. I thought
it was time for a peaceable tuan to leave, so 1
took the road."
A FOREST IN A LAKE. —A correspondent of
the New Orleans Delta, writiug from Virginia,
speaks of the Great Salt Pond, near White
Sulpher Springs, as follows .
ltderivfcs its name from the fact some years
ago tho inhabitants used to place salt in the
valley where the poud now exists, to attract
deer and cattle. There was a spring which
roso in this valley, and after flowing a short
distance above ground, descended iu mother
earth. To this spring the animals came to
drink ; from the trampling, or somo other eauso,
its passage into the earth was closed. The
valley by degrees tilled with water, which be
| iug unable to escape on account of the nioun
j tains, submerged tho forest. It now covers a
space from 300 to 400 yards across, and reaches
a depth of 80 to 90 feet. The water is so clear
that you ean see the submerged forest. It
presents a most singular appearance. Upou
looking down, on a still day, you might imagine
jou saw a city of dead giants before you, so
fantastic are the 9hapes assumed by the trees.
Q3P"The following marraige is annouueed in
the papers: "Thomas Butler Chinn, Esq., of
the Close, Litchfield, to Eliza Tippett, daugh
ter of tho late Secretary of the Navy." A
wag who is always on the alert, wrote the fol
lowing couplet upon this union :
"Although the suu is sultry yet,
The cold will soon set in;
And Thomas does quite right to get
A Tippet for his Chin."
DEATH OF FOUR OKNTENNARIAN CLERGY
MEN.—Six months ago a statement went the
rounds of the press that four graduates of
Dartmouth collodge—all of them clergyman—
still survived, the aggregate of whose ages
amounted to more than four hundred years.—
Hardly had the facl became kuowu than death
commenced its work. One of the number,
Rev. Mr. Parsons, of New Jersey, was called
away at the age of 99 ; Rev. Labiu Ains worth,
for three quarters of a century minister Jeffrey,
(N. H.) died about ibe same time having mote
than completed his century ; Rev. Zachariah
Green, of Hempstead, (L. I.) followed in his
99th year, aud now we have to chronicle the
decease of the last and oldest of the four, Rev.
Johu Sawyer, of Bangor, (Me.) who died on
the 14th ult., aged 103 years and five days.
Almost to the close of his life Mr Sawyer re
tained bis vigor in a surprising decree, and bad
preached occasionally during the spring and
summer. In early life he served in the Revo
lutionary artny, and was wounded in one of the
battles in which he took a part. Rev. Daniel
Waldo, recently Chaplin of tie National House
of Representatives, is, if wo mistake not, the
oldest clergyman in the country engaged in
the active duties of bia profession. His ago is
about ninety-four years.
WOMEN NATURAL ORATORS.— This passage
occurs in a work recently published abroad on
the "Art of Public Speaking —"Women
naturally speak better than men. They ex
press themselves more easily, more vividly,
with more arch simplicity, because they feel
more rapidly, more arch simplicity, because
they feel more rapidly, more delicately. Heuce
the loquacity with which they are roproaehed,
and which is an effect of their coustitutiou and
reuiperamout. Ilence there are so many wo
men who write in an admirable and remarkable
manner, although they have studied neither
rhetorie nor logic, and oven without knowing
grammar or orthography. They write as they
speak ; they speak pretty much as the birds
sing, and their language has the same
charm. Add the sweetness of their organ,
the flexibility of their voice, and the variety of
their intonations, according to the feeliug which
animates them, the nobility of their physiogno
my, which greatly increases the effect of words,
the picturesqaeness of their gestures, and in
short the gracefulness of their whole exterior ;
thus, although uot destined for orators by their
sex or social posion, they have all the power of j
the orator, and al! his success ia their spere, J
and in the circle of tber activity; for none
better know how to touch, persuade, and in
ilueiice, which, I tbiuk, is the end and perfec
tion of ekqu-ince."
ANECDOTE OF DR. WEBSTER, A SCOTCH '
MINISTER. —In 1774 Dr. Webster was a pop
ular preacher of the Kirk of Scotland, in Edin
burgh. Business brought him to London, aod
one day when passing ihe House of liOrds, his
curiosity induced him to make aa effort to step
in and see them. None were admitted without
an order except noblemen's servants. Webster
bciug ignorant of the rule, requested admit
tance. "What Lord do yon belong to?" said
the doorkeeper. "To the Lord Jehovah."—
"To the Lord Jehovah," repeated the keeper;
"I have kept here seven years, but I have nev
er heard of such Lord; Jack," said he to his
fellow keeper on the front steps, 'here's a chap
who says he belongs fu the Lord Jehovah, do
you know such a Lord?" "Never heard of him,"
says Jack. "But said Webster, (willing to
keep up the illusion,) there is such a Lord."—
"Pass 'em in," said Jick, "I s'pose it's some
poor Scotch Lord." This occurred at a period
when there was not one in twenty of all iu the
manufacturing ruial districts in England who
could read the Bible or write his owo name.—
Sabbath school were introduced in 1783. Now
the people are intelligent and happy, and can
cot only read and write, but have fonnd out
who the "Lord Jehovah" is.
An Up-Hiil Business,
Wake up,
Roll up,
Tumble up,
Step up,
Jump up,
Climb up,
Run up,
Skate up,
Ride up,
Rush up,
Swim up,
Fly up,
Crawl up,
Fire up,
Steam up,
Sail up,
Push up,
Any way, so that you get up and SETTLE UP
your subscription bills.
Low NECKED DRESSES.— In the olden time
low necked dresses seem to have been regarded
with particular disfavor by tha lawmakers. In
Pennsylvania, iu the early days of that colony,
there was a law, a part of which reads as fol
lows: "That if any white female of ten years or
upward, should appear in any public street,
lane, highway, church, court bouse, tavern,ball
room, theatre, or any other place of public re
sort, with naked shoulders, (i. e. low-necked
dresses,) being able to purchase necessary cloth
ing, shall forfeit and pay a fine not less than
one uor more than two hundred dollars." The j
closing paragraph of the law, however permit
ted woman of questionable character to hate
their shoulders, as a badge of distinction between
the chaste and the unchaste.
A horse dealer, in describing a used up horso j
said he looked "as if he had been editing a
l daily newspaper." i
VOL. 31, NO. 46.
LITEST PRENTICE-IANA
REVOLUTIONARY RETORT. —John Van BA
ren, in a speech the other day, couipaircd Mr.
II ask in to Andre, and said if be wore search
ed, doubtless a pass from Seward would be
j found in his boot. But had John been tho
! captor, he would have taken Hasken'a watch
and purse ; he would never think of emulating
the disinterested patriotism of Paudling, Van
Wert, and Williams.
On tbe evening of tho 17th of Sept., tbe
day of the departure of the last mail from Salt
Lake, thirteen births wore reported in Elder
Kimball's family. We think that Brigbam
must bo getting jealous. He may well trem
ble for Lis supremacy ainoug the Utah women.
We never knew a uaoro striking exemplifi
cation of the old maxim that "one extreme
begets another," than in the case of Henry
Olay and his son Jim.
Under the head of "news," our contempo
raries daily record "More post office robbery"
or "Further frauds on the Treasury." Un
fortunately, these incidents no longer come un
der the appellation of news ; they are as plenty
as blackberries in the summer time.
The Savannah News feels confident of tho
neutrality of tbe Atlantic cable, despite the
jealous fears heretofore expressed, as, at pre
sent, it has not a word to say on either side ou
any subject.
iho Washington Uuion "respectfully in
quires what play the opposition managers have
in rehearsal to succeed bleeding Kansas upen
the political stage." We would 'respectfully'
suggest 'Used Up' to the Union to be followed
by 'No, or tbe Glorious Minority,' with a reci
tation of 'Berks, have at ye all,' by Senator
Douglas, if it desires private theatricals.
That part of Indiana called 'the Pocket*
didn't exhibit much intelligence io the late
election. Indiana's brains are evidently not in
hei pccket.
An American editor asks what our Deighbor
of the Democrat's purposec an be in his constant
turnings. We don't know, but we approhend
that he has deadly designs against those who
are watching his course. He seems to bo mu
tating the policy of the man who twisted the
owl's head off by walking round and round the
tree upon which the bird sat.
There was a duel in Florida the other day
between John Lingle and James Lync. Linglo
made a Lyne shot—but probably not a mortal
one.
'Coming events cast their shadows before
the Queen of England, the Queen of Portu
gal, the Empress of France, and the Princess
Royal of Prussia.
The Cincinnati Time? says "the prevailing
epidemic now raging in this city is the thirst
for strong drink." We presauie rye flees
occasion By the results of the election havo
struck in.
The "Pennsylvania Dutch," of Berks, have
a highly appreciative opinitoo of J. G. Jones.
One of them said, "It is von shame if Misther
Sbones be not elected for he is Hie Committee
of the Shairman of Mean Ways.
In Sweden, a man who is seen four times
drunk is deprived of a vote at election. In
some of our large cities this iule is reversed ;
a drunken man is made to vote four times.
An Illinois correspondent says that Mr.
Douglas became so exhausted in speaking upon
a recent occasion, that his friends had to ( bold
him up on the stand. He was io as bad away
as the poor dog that was so feeble as to bavo
to lean against the fence to bark.
The managers of the Crystal Palace which
was recently burned, apper to be getting up a
quarrel. As they have no longer a 'glass
house,' they begin to 'throw stones.'
A MAN TRIES TO CHOP nis OWN HEAD OFF.
—A correspondent of the Vevay (10d.,) Re
veille, writing from Carroll county, Ky., states
that a few days since a party of men were
raising a log building; one of the company a
young mau named 'Thomas E. Searcey, sud
denly left his work, and seizing an axe, cut
several gashes on the top of his head. Ou at
tempts beiug made to wrest the weapon from
him, ho brandished it in tho air, threatening to
kill any one who approached him. He then
laid his neek upon a log, and was about to chop
his own head off, when his companions managed,
after a desperate struggle, to secure him.—
Searcey is described as being an intelligent,
upright man, and had never before given evi
dence of being insane.
MOST STRANGE.—A man WAS onco relating
a story of being on a locomotive that struck a
cow standing on tbe track, and threw her sev
eral rods into a field, where she lit squarely
upon her feet, with her head toward the train,
and strange to tell wasn't hurt a mite.
'But didn't she look scared?' Enquired a
listeuer. •
'Well, I don't know whether she was soared
or not, but she looked a good deal discoura
ged.'
One person having asked another if he be
lieved iti the appearance of spirits.
"No," was the reply; "but I believe in their
disappearance, for I've missed a bottle of gin
since last night."
In the school of the world as in that of love
wo must begin by practising what we wish to
learn.
Speaking of cheap thing—it costs but a tri
fle to get a wife, but doesn't be sometimes
prove "a little dear"'