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Administrators' and Bxecutors' Notices,.... ........ ...S1 75
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tions desired, will be continued till forbid and charged ac-
Strolling to these terms.
IVEW GOODS, N E W G- 00D S, at
I_l • D. P. GAVIN'S CHEAP STOREI
P. GWIN has Just received from Philadelphia the
largest and most beautiful assortment of
brought_ SPRING AND SUMMER GOODS
iver uto Huntingdon, consisting of the most Josh
'ionOble dress goods for Ladies and Gentlemen. Such as
Blaik and Fancy Silks, All-wool Bettina, Challis Delains,
Plain Braizo, Figured Braise Robes, Brilliants., different
colors; Brilliant Robes, Lawn Robes, Ducals Chintz Calico,
Plain and Fancy Dress Ginghams,Hum - mills. Cloth, Silk
Warp Levens Cloth for travelling dresses, 31.uhair Debarse,
Lawns and Prints of every description.
Also,—a large lot of Dress Trimmings,
Fringe's, Buttons, Bonnet Silks, Bonnet Crapes, all colors;
Ribbons, Gloves, Mitts, Toils, Laces, Hosiery, Gum Belts,
Ribbons for Belting, Whalebone and Brass Hoops for
Skirts, Silk and Linen Handkerchiefs, Silk and Gingham
Cravats, Zepher. French Working Cotton, Linen and Cot
ton Hop, Tidy Yarn.! Also,
The best assortment of Collars and Under
sleeves in town., Barred and plain Jaconets, Mull - Muslin,
Swiss, Plain, Figured and Dotted Crinoline, Maroon and
Grass Cloth for Skirts, Book Muslin, Irish Linen, Linen
!Cable Cloths, Napkins, Towels, &c. -Also,_
A fine assortment of Spring Shawls, Silk
mid Braize Mantillas, and a variety of Dress and Fancy
Goods too numerous to Mention.
Also; Cloths, Cassimeres, Cassinets, Merino
Cassimei, Tweeds, Kentucky Jeans, Cotton Drills for pants,
_Blue Demim, Blue' Drill, Plain and Fancy Linens, Mar.
.sailies'and Silk. 'Vesting, Muslims, bleached and unbleached;
Sheeting and. Pillow - Case ' 31uslin, Nankeens, Ticking,
'Checks, Table diaper, &C.
Bonnets of the latest styles, and at lower prices than can
be found in town. -
Also, Moleskin, Fur, Wool and Summer
Hats of tho latest styles, and _Boots & Shoes, Hardware,
Queensware, Buckets, Tubs, Churns, Butter Bowls, Bask-
Uts, Brooms and Brushes,
CARPETS AND OIL CLOTHS,
Fish & Sidt, and all goods usually kept in a country store.
'.My old custorners, and as many new ones as call
crowd in, are respectfully requested to come and examine
All .kinds of Country Produce taken in exchange for
good's at the highest market prices.
Huntingdon, April 29,1857.
WAR IN KANSAS ! ALEXAN-
DRIA FOUNDRY. R. C. MeGILL ik CROSS wish
to inform their friends and the public generally that they
-ossecolhave the above foundry in full blast, and
are prepared to furnish castings of every
description, stoves of all kinds and sizes
prirmttow for wood or coal, improved plough shears
for all kinds of ploughs, thrashing ma
chines, the best in the five counties. In short, everything
in the casting line; and having turning lathes we will
finish any work that requires turning. All of which we
will sell cheap for cash, lumber, and all kinds of country
produce. Old metal taken for castings. By a strict atten
tion to business, being practical workmen of long experi
ence in the business, we hope to receive a liberal share of
public patronage. It. C. 3IcOILL & CROSS.
Alexandria, April 29, 1857.
A DMINISTRATOR'S NOT I C E.-
. Letters of Administration hare been granted to me on
the Estate of ELIZABETH ZIIII3.IERMAN, late of Tod
township, Huntingdon county, deed. All persons indebt
ed are requested to make payment, and those having claims
to present them to me.
Tod tap., April .29, 1857.
CHINESE SUGAR CAN.:SIi3EI).
An intelligent farmer of Cumberland county, N.J.,
sums up his experience thus as the product of one acre:-
49,368 ibs cane; 1694 galls. Juice; 332 galls. thick syrup;
1936 lbs. fodder ; 90 bus, seed, 40 lbs to the bus. A. quan
tity sufficient for a trial will be mailed for 25 cents.
For sale by JOINT READ, Ihmtingdon, Pa.
April 29, 1.857-*3t.
CIASSVILLE MALE AND FEMALE
SEMINARY.—Rev. A. S. HANK, A. M., Principal,
Assisted by Competent Instructors.
This institution,. remote from scenes of vice and dissipa
tion, is healthfully located among the mountains of Hun
tingdon county, Pa.
Cassvillo is 15 miles front Mill Creel: station, Penna. R.
R., and is accessible by Stage on Monday, Wednesday and
Friday of each week.
The Trustees have made arrangements for a Summer
'Session, in order to accommodate young gentlemen and
ladies, who have been engaged in teaching during the win
- . The Summer Session will commence Slay 4th, and con
tinuo 21 weeks. Eighty students were in attendance du
ring the past year, and a number more can be accommoda
Board, Washing and Boom rent, per week ......S2 00
Tuition in I.3nglisb. Branches, per Nessiout 10 00
Ancient and Modern Languages, Music and Ornamental
Incidental fee, per session
April 22, 1857-2t*
4—T IGHT Great Bargains to the Trade.
The Fi ub so r hers respectfully solicit their Friends
and the Public in general, to call and examine for them
selves, our stock of the Latest Styles of
Chandeliers, Pendants and Brackets of most beautiful
finish, fancy and plain: also, Pine Oil, fluid and Lard
LAMPS, Girandoles, Parlor Lamps, Globes, Vanes, &e..&c.,
Lamp Chandeliers, Brackets and Pendants. Where-ever
LIGHT is wanted, wo will supply it at short notice.—
Lamps or Gas Fixtures, at large percentage in favor of
buyers. HEIDR/CK & HORNING,
Store : NO. 321 (late 221) North SECOND Street,
above Vine, PHILAPELPITIA.
Factory: Mercer Street, near Norris.
April 15, 1857-2 m.
FASTATE OF JOHN G-EO. MOSSEII,
deed.—All persons interested are hereby notified
that Letters testamentary have been granted by the Regis
ter of Iluntingdon county to the undersigned Executor
of the last will and testament of John George :11os.,er, late
of the borough of Lluntingdon, in said county, deceastsl,
and all persons having claims against his Estate arc requi
red to present them duly authenticated for settlement. and
persons indebted to him are requested to pay their liabili
ties. ISAAC LININGEIt, Executor.
flnntingdort, April 15, 1857.
LD NOSE AT HONE!
If you don't believe it, call at his now Bier° room
Z:lark - et Square, where you will find a splendid assort
ment of Goods for the season.
Ladies Dress Goods,
And everything else usually found in tho Uuntingdon
Call, but don't all call at the same time.
Huntingdon, April 15, 1857. NOSES STROUS.
-PREMIUM AWARDED TO 11. T.
STAINS, of Scottsville, linntingdon county, Pa., for
est specimen of marble work. Send on your orders
soon: - Scottsville, Oct. 21, 1856.1 y.
THE LATEST AND BEST!
KILT stock !lt
00K ling just opened a large ant *len
_ _ _
BOOTS & SHOES,
iif ihe best and latest styles, for ladies, gentlemen ' misses,
boys, and children of ages. He returns thanks for the
liberal patronage ho has heretofore received, and hopes his
,new, stock will not fail to please everybody, and all their
lations, and that all who want a gmd and fashionable
article will continue to call as usual at the old place and
bo accommodated. • .
Call soon and examine my splendid stock.
iinntingdon, April 15, 1857. ' LEVI WESTBROOK.
XEC IJ TORS NOTICE.
(ESTATE OF JOHN AITAH/UV, DECD.)
Ati persons interested are hereby notified that Letters
'Testamentary have been granted to the undersigned, Ex
ecutors of the last will and testament of JOHN =ARAN,
late of Walker township, Huntingdon county, dec'd., and
all persons having claims or demands against said estate,
are requested to present them -without delay, and thosoin
debted to said estate, will pay the same to John K. Me-
Callan, Birmingham, or Jas. A. McCaban, Hollidaysburg.
JOHN K. IKTARAN, Birmingham,
JAS. A. MT.AIIAN, Hollidaysburg,
JAS. K. MOREECEAD. Pittsburg,
JOHN CRESSWELL, Petersburg,
April 15, 1557.
GRINDSTONES on friction rollers and
patent hangings, for sale by
apr. 8. JAS. A. BROWN & CO.
DB. SANFORD'S Invigorator or Liver
Remedy, can be had nt the cheap Drug Store of
apr23 HENRY .11cM4NIDILL.
FOR SALE.—Three Carts and Gears.
CI3rAP. Apply to PRIM. SOW - EIDER, Sr.. lion-
Zerson township. April 22, 1827.
THE UNBROKEN SLUMBER.
Yes, I shall rest! some coming day
When blossoms in the wind are dancing,
And children in their mirthful play
Treed not the'monmful crowd advancing,
Up through the long and busy street
They'll bear me to my last retreat.
Or else—it matters not—may rave
The storms and blasts of winter weather,
Above the narrow, new-made grave,
Where care and. I lie down together;
Enough that I should know it not,
Beneath, in the dark, narrow spot.
For I shall sleep! As sweet a sleep
As ever graced a child reposing,
Awaits me in the cell so deep,
Where I my weary eyelids closing,
At length shall lay me down to rest,
Heedless of clods above my breast.
Asleep how deep will be that rest,
Free from life's fever moving wildly,
That when is past the earth's unrest,
Its bosom shall receive me mildly:
For not one dream of earth shall come
To invade the slumber of that home.
Oh, deep repose! Oh, slumber blest!
Oh, Night of pence No storm, no sorrow,
No heavy stirring in my rest
To meet another meary morrow!
I &hall heed neither night nor dawn,
But still, with folded hands, sleep ou!
Sleep on, though just above my head.
Prowl sin and misery's haggard ihces!
For the deep slumber of the dead
All sense of human woe erases,
ratsiee the heart and cures the braiu
Of every thought of outward pain.
Armies above my rest may tramp—
'Twill not disturb one rigid muscle I
I shall not heed their iron stamp
More than a leafs complaining rustle;
Nay, were the earth convened to 1 weak
:My leaden sleep, I should not wake.
And yet, methinks, if steps of those
I'd known and loved on earth were round me,
.'"fwouid tame the might of my repose :
Shiver the iron cords that I;ound Inc--
Save that I know this cannot be,
For death disowns all sympathy!
Well, be it sof Since I should yearn,
Anxiously watch for their appearing,
Chiding each lingering, late return,
And ever sad and ever fearing—
Livin~ life's drama o'er again,
lts tragedy of hope and pain.
Then mourn not, friends, when ye may lay
The clods of earth above my ashes;
Think what a rest awaits my clay,
And smooth the mound with tearless lashes;
Glad that the resting form within
Has done at length with woe and sin.
Think, that with me the strife is o'er,
Life's .stormy, struggling battle! ended;
Rejoice that I have gained that shore
To which, though weak, my footsteps tended;
Breathe the blest hope above the sod,
And leave me to my rest with God.
MY OLD WIFE AND I
She is sitting close beside me in the old
arm-chair, mate to my own—the earnest true
hearted friend of a long lifetime—my own
meek-eyed Ruth. Years ago, so very long
ago, that memory sees those years as far-off
pictures, indistinctly and dreamy. Years ago,
•nty Ruth whispered to me in the purple twi
light of a mid-summer evening, " Whither
thou goest, I will go"—and trustfully has the
promise been kept.
Sometimes, when the winter-fire burns low,
and coals glow blood-red in the broad, open
chimney, I take her withered hand in mine,
and we talk with hushed voices of those buri
ed days, and of the buried dead, who danced
with us in the hey-day of youth. Voices si
lent, hearts pulseless, and eyes close veiled—
Ruth and I are gladly looking forward to the
hour when we shall see the band of dear de
parted ones, beyond the golden gates of the
city ." Beautiful."
" We shall go soon, very soon, Jack," says
the tranquil voice; and I answer hopefully,
"Very soon." Then she strikes the sweet
old melody of "Summer," and the tones of
our old trembling voices ring through the
quiet room, like the echoes of afar-away song,
sung by a group of forms known and loved
in the past.
In the warm summer nights we sit, each
by the other, on the verandah that commands
a view - of the heaving sea, and the white-sail
ed ships that glide hither and thither with
their great wings.
" Life is like thebillowy ocean," I say to
the mild face and the dim eyes, "covered with
countless barks, some filled with every thing
rich and glorious, laded with the wealth and
beauty of other lands ; others idle and bare
with gaping seams and tattered sails. They
float serenely on the blue depths, tossed, un
harmed, by the fickle winds, while the nobly
laded ones, freighted with the hopes of lov
ing friends, go down even in the soft sunlight
and the lightest of breezes. Yonder go two
side by side, like old companions,
happy, if the winds do not drive them asun
der. So we, rocked by the billows, wafted
by prosperous breezes, have kept closely to
gether, till our barks have grown almost un
" The pilot will come to us, Jack, ere many
moons," says the old wife, cheerfully," "and
I thank God that he has suffered us towear
out so nearly in the service of what is good
" I thank him, also, deep in my heart of
hearts, that he gave me the unappropriated
loveliness of Ruth Seymour, when the golden
clouds of manhood's dawn hung over me--
that we together began the stately revel of
life, and have kept undying and immortal,
amid mortality, the pure love of husband and
Now, though age has sown a silvery har
vest among the brown girl-locks, and made
wrinkles where once smile played bo-peep to
smile among dimples, she is still dear as in
the firstars of married life—still beautiful,
still my Ninon D'Enclos. I love her - for the
memory . of what she has been to me through
the devious pathway of circling days—for
the freely-given trust, the perfect confidence,
the unasked obedience of love and faith.—
Dear old wife I
We can now talk fearlessly of the poverty
days. Days, -when we ate sparingly, and
lived sparingly, that the noble children God
gave us, might climb over the rugged heights
"We shall yet reap bountifully, Jack ; "
said Ruth—and I believed her. " Have we
not reaped a plentiful harvest? Robert bless
es his gray-haired parents every day, for the
education he won by their self-denial—our
Robert, the orator and the statesman."
" Mother !"—I always call her " Mother,"
when I speak of her children—"our boy has
made another speech-shall I read it for you?"
Then the proud smile creeps over the wrin
kled cheek, and lights up the fading eye, and
as I read slowly and carefully, the burning
words of the young politician. Ruth comes
closely to my side and steals her shrunken
fingers between my own, her foot tapping the
floor nervously, as I speak of applauding
crowds and eagerly excited multitudes.—
Sometimes a tear slides down the thin cheek,
a tear of gratitude, I know, and she knows,
gr atitude that all our efforts were not in vain.
There is Paul, too, the artist and poet—be
loved by the noble and great. He came, last
summer, - with the odor of laurels about him,
here to the old homestead, with its gables and
queer roofs; its gnarled oaks and wide-spread
ing orchards, came to blend, in unfading col
ors, upon the canvass, the bent forms and
whitened hair of Ruth and I. God bless the
boy. how the old wife gazed on the pictured
couple, with their weight of years, their wrin-
Ides and their fading eyes. Perhaps she saw
backward over the purple bills, the twain
who danced merrily in many a reel, when
youth fired their hearts with happy dreams,
and all the band of girls and boys, that has
for years been broken ; saw them gathered
again in festal mirth, a rosy train, with smi
ling lips and laughing voices. Perhaps, too,
she looked forward over the white sea, to that
crowd of forms waiting among the brightness
and glory for us, their comrades of old.
"We shall renew a youth which will be
eternal," I said softly, as she turned away
from the canvas. "By-and-by we shall quaff
from that fountain for which Ponce de Leon
sought, and sought in vain. Thankful ought
we to be rather, that our growing old has
made our children what they are." A soft
smile floated over the pale worn face, and I
saw for a moment how she would look here
For our son in the city, the ever hurrying
city of New York, I think Ruth has a warm
er-place in her heart, than for the rest; not
even our daughter—dark-haired Sara—whose
home is with us, and whose children shout
and sing about our door every hour in the day,
has the deep sympathy that Graham share's
in that mother's heart. It is strange to me,
but I know site knows best the wants Of her
children, and I try not to wonder.
When he comes home to the roof-tree, full
of "cares and business, talking earnestly with
Edward, Sara's husband, upon the rise of
stocks, the fall of cotton, the news from Eu
rope, and a hundred other things all at once
—when he reads with frowning brow, the
list of failures among the merchants, pitying
this, condemning that—when- he tears open
business letters and runs them through in a
twinkling, always hurried, always hurrying,
I can see the mother's eyes watching every
careless movement, with a sad, sweet sympa
thy in. them—why is it?
Sometimes, when Robert brings his beau
tiful young wife home, and Paul dallies with
the curls of his adored bride, her head in his
lap ; when Sara sits down on the footstool by
her husband and. laughingly tumbles the hair
of her first-born—sometimes, I say, when
Graham helps to make up the family party,
and chatters of the markets, of politics, of
the fine arts and. of the farm, I have seen si
lent tears fall from the quiet eyes of Ruth,
as if all this hurry and worry of her boy was
a 'mask. Perhaps it is. Ruth told me once
of a fair young being whose soul was twined
with the soul of Graham. How the chang
ing years carried her away to sleep in a green
grave, and left the boy alone. Maybe, mem
ory is goading him to this incessant action,
this constant labor. Who knows? We all
have a name written somewhere among the
records of the heart, dearer than all other
names beside—a name that brings with it
either pure enjoyment or bitter, bitter yearn
It must be so with Graham, for I have seen
him stand, silent as the frozen snow, for hours,
leaning over the bannisters and gazing on a
simple picture hung in the hall, with the
name of "Rosamond" written underneath it.
"Rose of the world," and yet the world knew
only as much of her beauty as had. ripened
under Moen summer's suns. She was my
cousin, and a fairer face never bloomed out
on the bleak winter airs of New England,
but I was not suffered to marvel at her ex.-
ceeding loveliness long, for God took her, and
the simple picture and an old man's memory
are all that remain of her now. _Perhaps, I
only say perhaps, the rare vision that steals
through 'Graham's silent hours, and even
glides between him and the rustling ledger,
bore the fragrant name of Rosamond; if she
did, or if my young cousin's face bears a faint
likeness to his "lost one," I wonder not that
the boy loves to linger on the stairs and watch
the eastern red sunlight steal in and glow
suddenly all over the bright, beaming coun
tenance. How sad and how strange that so
many of our best beloved memories are seen
ted with the perfume of cypress and of shrouds.
Ruth says "The reason of this is because
such memories would lose their sweetness,
had we the power to make them oft-recur
ring. Those we love go home to their Fath
er, when we remember only what is beauti
ful of them—years of long life might rob
them of what makes us cherish their memo
ry so fondly; now their beauty will remain
unfading through the long lapses of an un
lapsing eternity, and no stain on their purity
can make us love them less." She has whis
pered the same words to Graham in the twi
light's purple hush, and he has gone back to
his city home more cheerfully ; ah I I'll dare
to say he has gazed down memory's long gal
lery with less regret as his eye drinks in the
beauty of his beautiful "Rose." He thinks
of the changeless years beyond the narrow
sea, and of the changeless form watching be
side its banks for him. He has often closed
HUNTINGDON, PA., MAY 27, 1857.
his day-book and ledger, I doubt not, with
the unuttered wish that he might step across
that narrow sea as easily as he can cross the
Ruth and I have a whole troop of lovely
and much loved grand children, who site per
sists in spoiling, and whom I persist in bring
ing up as they should be brought up. Truly
enough, the young rogues are always hunt
ing my large pockets for sweetmeats and stray
bits with which to buy toys, and my wife
sometimes tells me I am spoiling the whole
troop, instead of herself.
But children are children, and I have two
green a: memory not to know that plums and
candies are so sweet to small lips. Dear
children, they are all lumps of pure gold, and
.cunning must the. artisan's hand be that can
mould the pure gold aright. Paul's young
wife, with her azure eyes and amber curls,
looks far too young and frail to guide the stout
'youngster whose saucy black eyes - are for all
the world the exact counterpart of his old
Who, then, like Ruth and I, can feed small
lips and dandle baby limbs ? Who, though
her hands have grown unsteady and weak,
can fold the tiny form in.a drowsy robe like
my dear old wife ? Ah, me I how we are
'shutting out slowly and. more slowly this fee
ble lamp of life Bv-and-hy the flickering
light will fall, and of us—bits of poor worn
clay—Will be borne by our children with tears
and lamentations to the vault yonder on the
hill overlooking the sea. Overlooking the
sea? h_ye, even as we now in life are over
looking that white sea with the purple shores
and the far twilight skirting it forever. Dear
old wife, how patiently we will wait the com
ing of a messenger from yonder shores. No
need, then, to pull down the rumpled ker
chief, to straighten the white locks or grasp
more firmly the stout cane for angels will
minister to us, and g ive to these feeble limbs
a newness of life and immortality of youth.
Will our children follow too?
Serving a Subpoena.
It is singular what shifts love will make to
accomplish its objects. Both gates and bars
are of little avail against Cupid's pick-lock
contrivances—his counting will devise ways
and means to open them all. A young gen
tleman had-courted a fair damsel of this city
and it was supposed that two in time would
" become one." Some little quarrel of a
trivial nature, as lover's quarrels generally
are, ~occurred. Neither would confess the
wrong to be on their side—presents and cor
respondence were mutually sent hack and
the match was broken off. The young gen
tleman immediately started off to New Or
leans, to enter into commercial business,
thinking that distance would lessen the at
tachment he really felt for the young lady.
When the woman is injured, or thinks she
is injured, by the one sho loves, she is more
apt than the male sex "to bite off her own
nose," as the saying is, to inflict pain, and be
revenged on the offending object. A gentle
man that the young lady had once rejected
renewed his proposals and was accepted
within a week after her old lover bad embark
ed for the South. On reaching New-Orleans
he found that distance, instead of weakening
his attachment, only made the lady dearer,
and he became melancholy and low-spirited.
The first letter he received from New-York
from a friend of his, announced that his old
name was shortly to be married to ancther.
His course was quickly taken—the next
morning saw him on board a packet-ship
bound for Gotham.
The passage unfortunately was long, and
the poor fellow chafed and fretted so much
that the passengers began to think him de
ranged or else a fugitive escaping from jus
tice. The instant the vessel touched the
wharf he darted for the office of his friend,
the lawyer. It is to be supposed the latter
was much surprised to see his friend, imagin
ing him a couple of thousand miles away.—
After the usual salutations, he exclaimed :
" My dear fellow, you are in time to see
the wedding. Miss , your old sweet
heart, is to be married this morning at eleven
o'clock. To tell you the truth, I don't believe
there is much love about it, and the girl really
thinks more of one hair of your head than
the fortunate bridegroom's whole body.
" Good Heaven I Where is she to be mar
ried—in church ?"
" No, at her father's house."
"My dear fellow—l—l—yes—no—yes, I
will have it. Have you any case coming on
in either of the courts at IL o'clock ?"
" Then fill up a subpoena with the bride
groom's name. Don't stop to ask any ques
tions. It matters not whether he knows any
thing about the parties in the suit. By Heav
ens! Julia shall be mine 1"
- - - _
Ms friend saw the object at once, and prom
ised to carry on the matter. The subpeena,
was made out and placed in the hands of a
clerk to serve on the unsuspecting bridegroom
the instant he should leave his residence, and
was dispatched in a cab to watch the house.
About ten minutes before eleven, as the soon
to-be happy man was about entering a coach
before the door of his residence, he was served
with a subpoena.
" Can't help it," said the clerk, in reply to
his gesticulating about "not knowing the par
ties going to be married," &c. We shan't
reach the Hall now before eleven—imprison
ment for contempt," &c.
The bridegroom, who was rather of a timid
nature, finally consented, particularly as the
clerk promised to send a friend of his who
sat in the cab wrapped up in a large cloak,
explaining the reasons of his absence. The
reader can imagine who this person was.
Eleven o'cloc came, but still no bride
groom. The guests were staring at each oth
er—the priest began to grow impatient—and.
the bride that was to be, looked pale and ag
itated, when a carriage drove up and the bell
rung. "There he is 1 There he is 1" mur
mured many voices.
A gentleman did enter, whose appearance
created almost as much astonishment as that
of Edgar 'Ravenswood, in the Tian of Ashton
Castle, at the marriage of Lucy Ashton, in
Scott's ".Brige of Lammernoor." The lady
fainted; private explanations ensued between
the parents and the lover, and the result was
that, in ten minutes after, the' two real lovers
were joined in the sacred bond of matrimo
ny, much to the satisfaction of all.
The bridegroom that-was-to-have-been, af
terwards made his appearance pulling and
blowing. What he said and what ho did, on
beholding his rival, and being made acquaint
ed with the condition of affairs, was really
The story of the subpcena, shortly after
wards leaked out, and has created so much
amusement, that the poor fellow declares he
will sue the lawyer for ten thousand dollars
damages in subpoenaing him as a witness in
a case of which_ lie knew nothing, and by
Achich he lost a wife. It will be a novel suit
indeed, if he should do so.--New York, ra
It is a miserable thing to be rich ! We
aver it not from experience, but from obser
vation. - Solomon Southwick, the veteran
Rhode Island editor, once published a poem,
entitled the "Pleasures of Poverty," and,
although nobody read more than the first
page, it was the best thing that Solomon—
and he really was a man of genius—ever
did. It was the perversity of mankind not
the "absence of caloric" in the poem, that
prevented the "Pleasures of Poverty" from
becoming as immortal as the "Pleasures of
We pity a rich man—and why? Because
he is like the unlucky fellow who used to
adorn Ulm - first page of all old-fashioned Al
manacs. Aries, the ram is eternally jump
ing over his head, ready to butt out his
brains for the sake of getting at his purse.—
Taurus, the bull, is goring him with horns,
to make him. bleed freely—[Gemini, the
twins, generally fall to the lot of the poor
man, so we will pass over them.] The claws
of Cancer are fastened on his breast in the
shape of needy relations. Leo is couchant
before him, watching the opportunity to
prey upon his possessions. Virgo is laying
snares for his heart. Libra is weighing his
losses. Sagittarius transfixes him with the
arrows of envy. Capricornus is bearding
him with the spirit of rivalry. Aquarius
( changing the sex) is keeping him in a
whirlpool of routs, parties and balls, to please
a dashing wife and money-wasting daugh
ters. And to sum. up his miseries the slip
pery fishes render his footing unstable, and
his standing uncertain—for they are neither
more nor less than the changes and chances
of life. Who so hard-hearted as not to pity
the rich man ?
Who is dogged in the streets, and knocked
down at midnight ? Whose house is broken
into by robbers ? The rich man's. Who
has his pocket cut out, and his coat spoiled
in a crowd? The rich man. Who is in
doubt whether the people are not laughing
at him in their sleeves, when they are eating
his dinner? The rich man. Who adds to
his trouble by every stone lie adds to his
house? The rich man—for the higher he
ascends, the colder is the atmosphere. A
bank breaks, and who suffers? The rich
stockholder and depositor. War blows his
horn, who trembles? Death approaches, and
who fears to look him in the face? Why,
the rich man, and yet, all the world envies
the rich. Depend upon it, reader, the length
of your face will always be proportioned to
the length or your purse. If you live in a
two-storied house, be thankful and covet not
the loftier mansion of your neighbor. You
but dishonor yourself, and insult your desti
ny by fretting and repining.
There is a false necessity with which we
continually surround ourselves—a restraint
of conventional forms. Under this influence,
men and women. check their best impulses,
and suppress their highest thoughts. Each
longs for a free communication with other
souls, but dares not give utterance to his
yearnings. What hinders? The fear of
what Mrs. Somebody will say; or the frown
of some sect; or the anathema of some syn
od; or the fashion clique ; or the laugh of
some club; or the misrepresentation of some
political party. Thou art afraid of thy neigh
bor, and knowest not that he is equally
afraid of thee. Ile has bound thy hands,
and thou hast fettered his feet. It were
wiser for both to snap the imaginary bond,
and walk onward unshackled.
What is there of joyful freedom in our so
cial intercourse? We wish to enjoy our
selves and take away all onr freedom, while
we destroy his own. If the host wishes to
ride or walk, he dares not, lest it should
seem impolite to the guests. So they remain
slaves, and feel it a relief to part company.
A few individuals, mostly in foreign lands,
arrange this matter with wiser wisdom.
If a visitor arrives, they say, I am very
busy to-day; if you want to work, the naeu
are raking hay in the field ; if you want to
romp, the children are at play in the court;
if you want to read to me, I can be with you
at such an hour. Go where you please, and
while you are here, do as you please.
At some houses in Florence, large parties
meet without the slightest preparation. It
is understood that on some particular even
ing of the week, a lady or gentleman always
receive their friends. In one room are books
and flowers; in another, pictures and engrav
ings; in a third, music. Couples are en
sconced in some shaded alcove, or groups
dotted about the rooms, in mirthful or seri
ons conversation. No man is required to
speak to his host, either on entering or de
parting. Lemonade and baskets fruit
stand here and there, on the side tables, that
all may take who like; but eating, which
constitutes so great a part of American en
tertainment, is a light and almost unnoticed
incident at these festivals of intellect and
Dr. William Elder, of Philadelphia,
is now engaged in writing a memoir of the
late Dr. Elisha Kent Kane.
Editor and Proprietor.
The purpose of irrigation is not only moist;
ening, as many farmers may think, butchieflj
maatiriiig by means of irrigation; darn up
little stream, and make a small ditch along
the higher part of a piece of land, so as to
cause the water to overflow ; in the immediate
vicinity of the ditch the grass *ill grow a
great deal longer and faster than at some dis:
tance from the ditch, where the moistening
part had been executed to the same degree as
above, showing that the Water had left its ma:
nuro at the first contact with the surface of
the ground. In laying out the ditches for ir.;
rigation, make many ditches, instead of a sin
gle one. There is no loss even by the great
ost number of ditches, provided they are put
in the right place. The distribution of wa
and the different modes of arranging the
land for irrigation and drainage, depend on
the shape of surface of the ground, 4:e.,
and require a very firm judgment and at least
some knowledge of leveling and surveying.—
The rain water has no manuring effect on the
soil ; but its great efficacy is its dissolving qual
ity, by which it makes the manure fit for feed
ing the vegetables. The water of running
streams, led on the land for irrigation, fulfills.
two important conditions, namely, that of
yielding manure, and that of dissolving the
manure, and is therefore superior to rain wa
ter for irrigation. Some have contended that
rain water contains a little ammonia, and that
it therefore possesses fertilising properties but
the most refined analysis has failed to prove'
Many persons plead a love of truth as an
apology for rough manners,: as if truth kiss
never gentle and kind, but always harsh, mo
rose and forbidding. Surely good manners and
a good conscience are no more inconsistent
with each other than beauty and. innocence,
which are strikingly akin, and always look
the better for companionship. Roughness and
honesty are indeed some times found togeth:
er in the same person, but he is a poor judge of
human nature who takes ill manners to be
a onarentee of probity of character ; or sus:
peets a stranger to be a rascal, bdeause he has;•
the manners of a gentleman. Some persons
object to politeness, that its language is un
meaning and false. But this is easily an
swered. A lie is not locked up in a phrase,
but must exist, if at all in the mind of the'
speaker. In the ordinary compliments of civ
ilized life, there is no intention to deceive, and
consequently no falsehood. Polite language'
is pleasant to the ear, and something to the
heart. while rough words are just the reverse;.
and if not the product of ill-temper are very
apt to produce it. The plainest of truths, let
it be remembered, that can be conveyed is civil
speech while the most malignant of lies may,
find utterance, and often do, in the languago*
of the fish market.
Sleep is the gift of God; and not a man'
would close his eyes, did not God put his in-'
ger on his eyelids. True, there are some
drugs with which men can poison themselves
well-nigh to death, and then call it sleep ;
but the sleep of the healthy body is the gift
of God ; he bestows it ; he rocks the cradle
for us every night; draws the curtain of
darkness, he bids the sun shut up his burn
ing eyes, and then he comes and says,:
" Sleep, sleep, my child ; I give thee sleep."
You have sometimes laid your head upon
your pillow, and tried to go to sleep, but
you could not do it; but still you see; and
there are sounds in your ears, and ten thou- .
sand things drive through your brain.—
Sleep is the best physician that I know of.—
It has healed more pains than the most emi-'
nent physician on earth. It is the best
medicine. There is nothing like it. And
what a mercy it is that it belongs to all.—
God does not give it merely to the noble or
the rich, so they can keep it as a special
luxury for themselves; but he bestows it
upon all. Yes, if there be any difference, it .
is in favor of the poor. " The sleep of the
laboring man is sweet, whether he eat little
Not only the flowers unfold their petals to
receive the light—the heart of man also has
a power of expansion. It is love which .
opens it and expands it, so that the rays of
the spiritual sun may penetrate and ilium° .
it. The Christian, in the work of self-exami
nation, need not direct his attention to many
points ; it is included in the daily question—
Ifow is it with my love to Christ? That
love to him is of great importance, we must'
conclude, since he, in truth, requires of us
an affection for his own person such as no
one else ever claimed. 0, thou must ha'
more than father and mother, than brother
and sister, else bow couldst thou the lowliest
among the children of men, lay claim to"
such superabundant love ? Since I have be
lieved in the - word, all my desire has been to
love thee_ I will not cease to love thee,
until thou art dearer to me than father,.,
mother and brother! ;If they deny thee, if
they revile thee; what is so dreadful as to
see one's father and mother reviled at our
side! but more than when they reproach
father and mother, shall thy reproaches, thy
wrongs go to my heart.—T Muck.
A SENSIBLE FATTIER.—The Sunday Atlas
says a gentleman of great wealth in New
York, but who has never cared to mingle
much in fashionable society, recently settled
15,000 a year on a daughter who had mar- -
tied. to his satisfaction. In speaking on the
subject to a friend the other day, he was wit;
ling to do the same by his other daughters;
on one condition—that they married respec
table, "upright and industrious young men.H
lie did not care how poor they were if they
were only of this description, and their char;
actor would bear investigation.
NOBLE SENTIMENTS.—Condemn no Mali
for not thinking as you think. Let every
one enjoy the full and free liberty of think=
ing for himself. Let every man use his owri
judgment, since every man must give an ac
count of himself to God. Abhor tivery tql=
proacli, in any kind of degree, to the spirit
of persecution. If you cannot reason . ,_ or
persuade a man into the truth, never attempt
to force a man into it. If love will not cone.
el him to come, leave him to God, the
Judge of Ins/ey.
1-n-Th ere are about 3,000 newspapers id
the United States which circulate annually
about 500,000,000 copies. Between fifteen
and twenty millions of dollars are expended.
in their publication ; and if the whole issue,
for ono year be estimated, it would cover a
surface of 100 square miles, or form a belt 30
feet wide around the earth.
gErA good book !and a good woman arel
excellent things for those who know how just.
ly to appreciate their value. There are men,
however, who judge from the beauty of their
Object and Effects of Irrigation.
A Great Gift.
Love to Christ.