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EMERSON'S MAGAZINE
AND PUTNAM'S MONTIILY,
TWO GREAT MAGAZINES IN ONE I I
NINETY THOUSAND COPIES THE FIRST MONTH!!!
MAGNIFICENT PROGRAMME FOR 1858.
TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS IN SPLENDID WORKS
01? ART.
FIVE-DOLLAR ENGRAVING TO EVERY
THE ORErAT LIBRARY OFFER-AGENTS GETTING
RICH! !I!
The union of Emerson's Magazine awl Putnam's Monthly
has given to the consolidated work a circulation second to
but one similar publication in the country, and has secur
ed for it a combination of literary and artistic talent prob
ably unrivaled by any other Magazine in the world. Du
ring the first month, the sale in the trade and demand from
subscribers exceeded 90,000 copies, and the numbers al
ready issued of the consolidated work are universally con
ceded to have surpassed, in the richness of their literary
contents, and the beauty and profuseness of their pictorial
illustrations, any magazine ever before issued from the
American press. Encouraged by these evidences of favor,
the publishers have determined to commence the new vol
ume in January with still additional attractions, and to
offer such inducements to subscribers as cannot fail to
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With this view they now announce the following splendid
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" THE LAST. SUPPER,"
and will present it to every three-dollar subscriber for the
year 1655. It was engraved at a cost of over $5,000. by
the celebrated A. L. Dick, front the original of Raphael
Morghen, after Leonardo Da Vinci, and is the largest steel
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The first impressions of this engraving are held at ten
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We shall commence striking off the engravings imniedi
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for by subscribers. We shall, therefore, furnish them in
the order in which subscriptions are received. Those who
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impressions, should send in their subscriptions without
delay. The engraving can be sent on rollers, by mail, or
in any oilier manner, as subscribers shall order.
TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS 1N WORKS OF
In addition to the superb engraving of "The Last Sup
per," which will be presented to every three-dollar sub
scriber for 180 S, the publishers have completed arrange
ments for the distribution, on the 2,7,th of December, 1555,
of a series of splendid works alert, consisting of one hun
dred rich and rare Oil Paintings, valued at from :itloo to
$l,OOO each. Also 2,000 magnificent Steel-Plate Engra
vings, worth from three to five dollars each, and Leoo
choice Holiday Books, worth from one to five dollars each.
making, in all, over three thousand sifts, worth twenty
thousand dollars.
Inclose $3 to the publishers and you will commence re
ceiving the Magazine by return mail. You will also re
ceive with the first copy a numbered subscription receipt
entitling you to the engraving of
"THE LAST SUPPER,"
and a chance to draw one of these "three thousand prizes."
REASON'S LAITY YOU SHOULD Slit:SCß= FOR
EMERSON'S MAGA?, IN E FOR 1858.
Ist. Because its literary contents will, during the year,
embrace contributions from mer one hundred (Edema
writers and thinkers, numbering among them the most
distinguished of American authors.
2d. Because its editorial departments, "Our Stildio,"
"Our Window." and "Our Olio," will each be conducted
by an able editor—and it will surpass, in the variety and
richness of its editorial contents any other magazine.
3d. Because it will contain, during the year, nearly six
hundred original pictorial illustrations from designs by time
first American artists.
4th. Because for the stun of $3 you will receive this
splendid monthly, more richly worth that sum than any
other magazine, and the superb engraving of The halt
Supper," worth $5.
sth. Because yott will be very likely to draw one of the
three thousand prizes to be distributed on the 25th day of
December, 1858—perhaps one that is worth $l.OOO.
Notwithstanding that these extraordinary inducements
can hardly fail to Accomplish the object of the publishers
without further efforts, yet they have determined to con
tinuo through the year,
TUE GREAT LIBRARY OFFER.
To any person who will get up a club of twenty-four
sub
scribers. either at ono or more post offices, um will present
a splendid Library. consisting of over Forty Large Bound
Volumes,embracing the most popular works in the mar
ket. The club may be formed at the club price, Ez2 a year,
without the engraving, or at the full price, $3, with the
Last Supper to each subscriber. List and de-cription of
the Library, and specimen copy of the Alagazinc, will be
forwarded on receipt of 25 cents. Over 200 Libraries, or
8,000 volumes, have already been dh,tributed in accordance
with this offer, and we should be glad of an opportunity to
furnish a Library to every school teacher, or to some one
of every post uflice in the country.
_
AGENTS GETTING MCII
The success which our agents are meeting with is almost
astonishing. Among the many evidences of this fact, we
aro permitted to publish the following :
GENTLEMEN: The following facts in relation to 'chat
your Agents are doing in this section, may he of use to
some enterprising young man in want of employment.—
The Rev. John E. Jardon, of this place, has made!) , since
last Christmas, over $4,000 in his agency. Mr. David M.
Heath, of ltidgly. Mo., your general agent for Platt county,
is making $S per 'day , on each sub-agent employed by him,
and Messrs, Weimer & Evans, of Oregon, Mo., your agents
for Holt county, are making from $S to 25 per day. and
your humble servant has made, since the ith day of last
January, over $1,700, besides paying for SOP acres of land
out of the business worth over $l,OOO. You are at liberty
to publish this statement, if you like, and to refer to any
of the parties named. DANIEL GREGG, Carrolton, Sic.
With such inducements as we offer, anybody can obtain
subscribers. Wo invite every gentleman oat of employ
'rent, and every lady who desires a pleasant money-ma
king occupation to apply at once for an agency. Appli
cants should inclose 25 cents for a specimen copy of the
Magazine, which will always be forwarded with answer to
application by return mail.
SPECIMEN ENGRAVINE
As we desire to place in the hands of every person who
proposes to get up a club, and also of every agent, a copy
of the engraving of "The Last Supper," as a specimen,
each applicant inclosing us 5,1, will receive the engraving,
post-paid, by return mail, also specimens of our publication
and one of the numbered subscription receipts. entitling
the holder to the Magazine one year and to a chance in the
distribution. This offer is made oniy to those who desire
to act as agents or to form clubs. Address
OARS3IITII & CO.,
No. i7l Broadway, New York.
Jan. 13, 185 S
4- t'lrfir
01? SCITEDU.T.P.I.—On. and
after Weanesclay, April it h., the Trains carrying pas
sengers ou the Ifu:irtzaroos & BIWAD Tot , Rmato.tn, will
y!ave anti arrico as follows
Leave at 8.1.5 A. M.
" " 4.00 M.
Huntingdon, April, 7,185 S
ICMPORTANT TO FA.II3I.ERS.—The
w
most valuable MANURE ne in the market is MIT
VI ELL & CROASDALTeI'S Improved Ammoniated MONE
SUPER-MOM - TATE OF LIME. It not only stimulates
the growing crop. but permanently enriches the land. It
is prepared entirely by ourselves under the direction of ono
of the first Chemists in the country, and is warraniedpure
and wmform in its composition. It only needs to be seen
by the intelligent "Farmer to convince him of its intrinsic
value as a permanent Fertilizer. For sale in large or small
quantities, by CROASMALE, - PEIRCE & CO.,
10.1 North Wharves, ono door above Arch St., Philada.,
And by most of the principal dealers throughout the coun
try. [March :24, ISSS-3n.
AI
LEXANDRA FOUNDRY !
The Alexandria Foundry has been
bought by K. C. McGILL, and is in blast, i•
and haven!l kinds of Castings, Stoves. Ma- 'l l '
chines, Plows, Kettles, &e., &c., which he " e"" •
will sell at the lowest prices. All kinds
of Country - Produce and old Metal taken in exchange for
Castings, at market prices
April 7,1855
TO MERCHANTS AND FARAIV•ItS.
GROUND PLASTER can bo had nt the Huntingdon
Einar and Plaster Mills, in any desirable quantities, on
and after the Ist day of March, 1855. We deliver it free ,f
charge on the cars at the dopots of the Pennsylvania and
Broad Top Railroads,
Feb. 24, 1858
- ETATS AND CAPS---A fine assortment
At BENJ. J.ACOBS' Store.
IBM
MI
Arrive at :2.04 P. M.
" " 8.10 "
J. J. LAIVRENCI3.
Superintendent
12. C. McGILL
FISHER McMURTRIE
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOLe XIII,
( c tigetry.
"HOW BEAUTIFUL IS EARrVII.,9
BY MRS. SIt;OI2II3I.EY
Oh God! how beautiful is earth,
In sunlight or in shade,
Her forest with their waving arch
Her flowers that gem the glade.
Her hillocks, white with fleecy flocks,
Her fields with grain that glow,
Her sparkling rivers deep and broad,
That through the Valley flow.
Hor crested waves that clash the shore.
And lift their anthem loud,
Her mountains with their scheme i hromi
That woo the yielding cloud.
Oh GO! how beautiful is life
That thou duet lead os here,
With tainted hopes that lino the cloud
And joys that jern the tear.
With cradle hymns of mothers young,
And tread of youthful feet,
That scarce in their elastic bound,
]3ow down the grass-flowers sweet.
With brightness tonna the pilgrinii staff;
Who, at the set of sun,
Beholds the golden gates thrown wide.
And all his works well done.
But if this earth, which changes man
This life, to death that leads,
Are made so beautiful by HMI
From whom all good proceeds.
How glorious must that region be
Where all the pure and blest,
From chance, and fear, and sorrow free,
Attain eternal rest.
ttett
THE LAST SIXPENCE
BY AUSTIN C. BURDICK
It was on a chill, bleak morning in Novem
ber, that Charles Aubrey emerged from an
old shed, where he had passed the latter part
of the night under a pile of sheep skins. He
was a young man not over two and twenty,
and yet retained great beauty of person,
though his clothes were torn and dirty, and
his face pale and haggard. Only one year
before he had been left an orphan, with eleven
thousand dollars in his possession. He had
always been a generous-hearted, frank, and
loving companion, but evil associations had
gathered about him, and in an unfortunate
hour be gave himself up to their influence.
He . thought not of the value of money, and
designing knaves, under the guise of friend
ship, could always draw it from him. But
the poor misguided youth bad run the race,
and was now alone. His money was gone,
and his sunshine companions had left him.—
He had reached the goal towards which he
had been dashing for a whole year.
As young Aubrey stood there now, his lips
were parched, and his limbs shook as though
with palsy. Ile mechanically placed his hand
in his pocket and took therefrom a six - pence.
He searched further—felt in every pocket—
but he could find no more. That single six
pence was the last of his fortune.
"Ab, Charley, Charley," he murmured to
himself, "you have run your race. Where
are now the friends who have so long hung
about you? One poor sixpence I It will buy
me a glass of grog to allay my burning. 0,
would to God it would buy me one true
friend."
He spoke thus, and with the words came
rushing through the mind the memory of the
past. le remembered his mother, as she
held him for the last time to her bosom and
blessed him; and he remembered when he
saw them cover her body up in the warm
flowery earth of the summer, not many years
ago. lle remembered his kind, good father,
and how that father had loved and blessed
him with his last breath.
And lie remembered one other, a bright
eyed joyous girl, in whose keeping he had
once placed all his love, and all his hopes of
joy. But it was gone now ! Thus he stood,
with the small coin in his hand, when he
heard footsteps approaching. Ile raised his
eyes and beheld an old woman with mended
back, who came tottering on slowly and trem
blingly. Her garments were torn and tattered
and the thin grey hair hung matted and un
combed. She stopped when she came to where
the young man stood, and leaned heavily on
her staff.
" Charity, good sir ;" she muttered in a
hoarse, trembling - voice. Give me wherewith
to purchase a single meal, and I will ask God
to bless thee."
" By my life, good woman, you are the very
one I was wishing for. llere—it is all have
—it is my last sixpence I Take it. I have
only wished it would buy me one true friend."
The old woman hesitated.
" Will you not take it ?" asked Charles ear
nestly. " Take it, so that I may feel that I
have one friend."
" I need it sir," the old woman said, " but
I dare not take it from you, for you would
not profit by my friendship."
" Yes, I would. It would send a ray of
sunshine through my soul to know that one
human being blessed me."
" But then what would come of that while
you thus continue to curse yourself ?"
The youth started but spoke not.
" If you would have me for a friend, will
you listen to me as a friend?"
"Listen I yes."
"'Then let this be your lowest vale of life,"
said the old woman with startling solemnity.
" Turn now, and go up hill. Go up until you
have reached the sunshine once more. I
knew your mother, Charles Aubrey, and I
remeinner how kind she was. 0, did she ever
think her well-beloved son would sink so low ?"
" Stop, stop," groaned the unhappy youth.
"0 who shall give me the first lift to regain
all T. have lost ?"
" I will."
You ! who arc you ? You say you knew
my mother. Who are you?"
" Never mind. Suffice it for you to know
that I have suffered as deeply as you ever did.
I know what it is to suffer. I say I can give
you the first lift. I mean by that I can show
you the way. Follow my council and you
may yet recover all you have lost."
" No, not at all. There is one loss I can
never make up." And as he spoke he bowed
his head and covered his face with his hands.
" Let not such feelings he with you now.—
First resolve that you will turn from the evil
that has brought you down. You know what
it is as well as I do. Can you do this ?"
" Aye, I had done it ere you came up."
"Then take the next step. Go and make
a friend who will help you further. Go to
Amos Williams, and—,"
" No, no, not there. 0, not there," inter
rupted Charles.
Go to his store and freely confess to him
all your faults," resumed the old woman,
Without seeming to notice the interruption.
" Tell him all, and then ask him to trust you
once more."
•
" No, no, I dare not go to him."
" But listen ; I heard Mr. Williams say
with his own lips that he would help you if
he could, and that he would give you his hand
if' you would help yourself."
" Did lie say that ?" uttered Charles Eager-
ly.
"He did. And now, Charles Aubrey, be
assured you have not lost anything. Let peo
ple know that you mean to rise awl lie a man,
and all whose friendship is worth having will
give you their bands. Go to Amos Williams
"I will go."
"Then give me the sixpence."
Anus Williams stood at his great desk in
his counting-room, and he was alone. While
he thus stood, casting up a column of figures
upon a page of one of his ledgers, the door --
was opened, and Charles Aubrey entered.—
Ile was yet pale and haggard, and looked as
he did when we saw him two hours ago.
.The merchant started back, with an utter
ance of pain and surprise, as he recognized
in the miserable form before him, the once
happy and beloved youth whom be had de
lighted to honor.
" Charles," he uttered, as soon as be could
command his speech, " Why have you come
here ?"
" Mr. Williams," spoke the youth, in ft
choking voice, "I have come to—to—tell you
that—my course of wickedness is ruu, and
from this moment I am—a----"
here he stopped. lie hesitated a moment,
and then his feelings overcame him, and bow
ing his head he burst into tears, and sobs loud
and and deep broke from his lips.
"Charles said Mr. Williams, in a tremu
lous eager voice, " have , you resolved to be a
man ?"
" With God's help I will be a man again,"
was the youth's reply.
" Yes, sir. This morning I had one solita
ry sispence left, and that I gave to a poor old
woman who bade mo come here."
" Aye, I know her. She is an unfortunate
creature and has suffered much. I bade her,
if she saw you, and you wore repentant and
cast down, to send you here, for i heard yes
terday that you were at the foot of the pre
cipice. Now if you are determined, you shall
not want for help."
In eager, broken, sobbing sentences, Charles
poured out his thanks, and stated the resolu
tion he had taken.
" And now" said. Mr. Williams, after the
matter had been talked over some, " we must
find a - place where you can recruit your
strength a little before you try to work.—
There is my brother -who owns a farm in
Xl—. He would be glad to have you come
and stop awhile ; and when you wholly recov
er your wasted strength you may have a place
here."
At first the youth refused io accept so
much, for he knew his unworthiness ; but the
merchant simply answered:
" , you can pay me for all this if you choose;
so you need not be delicate about it; and
as for your unworthiness—when the lost ones
of earth are not worth redeeming, then some
other standard of Worth must be regarded
than that simple one which Jesus ofNaza
reth gave to his followers!'
So it was settled. that Charles should go
out into the country and remain awhile. lie
found Mr. Williams, the brother,
ready and
happy to receive him, and there he soon be
gan to regain his health and spirits. In two
weeks he was as strong as ever, and at the
end of a mouth the marks of dissipation had
left his face. Then he returned to town and
entered the store. Amos Williams gave him
a lucrative situation, and. bade him remem
ber nothing, save the ono great lesson of life
he had learned.
"Charles," he said, "you know the widow
Swain ?"
" Yes, sir."
" Well, I have engaged board for you
there. I hope the arrangement will suit
you."
" Yes, sir," returned the youth with emo
tion.
From that time Charles Aubrey went on
nobly and truly in the path he had marked
out.
As soon as he again made his appearance
in prosperity, his old companions sought his
company once more, but he repulsed them
with a stern firmness that left them no hope.
Yet for a month he was surrounded with
temptations in every shape, but he hesitated
not once. llis mind was made up, and he
made but one answer to all invitations to de
part from his course. At length thesig.temp
tations became less frequent, and finally he
was left to pursue his way unmolested.
Little did Charles Aubrey know how close
he had been watched. Mr. Williams knew
his every movement, even to the prayers he
poured forth in the privacy of his own apart
ment. Thus passed away three months; and
at the end of - that time Mr. Williams called
the young man into the counting room one
evening after the rest of the people had gone.
" Well, Charles," the merchant commenced,
" how would you like to change your board
ing place ?"
There was something in the look and tone
of the man, as he spoke those, words, that ;
made the youth start. The blood rushed to
N
1 • 11'
i4ti;:ig4
HUNTINGDON, PA., MAY 5, 1858.
-PERSEVERE.-
his face, and anon he turned pale.
"If you would like," the merchant re
sumed, in the same low, strange tone, " you
may come and board with me. I will not
deceive you,-Charles. Until I could know
that you would entirely reform, I dared not
carry you to my house. But I am satisfied
now ; now, if you please, you may inform
Mrs. Swain that you shall board with her no
more. She will not be disappointed, fur I
have spoken with her on the subject."
With these words, Mr. Williams left the
store, and as soon as Charles could recover
from the strange emotions that had almost
overpowered him, he called for the porter to
come and lock up, and then having locked
the great safe, he took his departure.
On the next morning he came to the store,
and when his employer came, he informed
him that he had given his notice to Mrs.
Swain.
"Very well," replied the merchant, "this
evening, then, go home with me."
Evening came, and Charles Aubrey ac
companied his old friend home. Tea was
ready, the rest of the family having eaten an
hour before. After tea, Charles was con
ducted to the sitting-room, where lamps were
burning and where Mr. Williams informed
him he could amuse himself by reading.
Charles sat down there, and his employer
went out, but he could not read. His heart
beat wildly in his bosom, and his soul was
strangely worked upon. 0, how natural ev
erything there appeared. And how many
blissful hours be had spent in that same
room. Thus he sat, when the door was
slowly opened, and a female appeared with
in the apartment. She was a bright-eyed,
beautiful maiden, and when she first entered,
a happy smile was upon her face. But the
I smile faded away, and her lips trembled.—
She stood there with her hands half extend
, oil, gazing tremblingly upon the youth. In
a moment more her bright eyes overran with
tears, and then Charles started up. He
could do no more. Why else should he he
brought hither? why left thus? why placed
on such probation ? Ile hesitated no more.
With one quick step he spranr , forward, and
without one word lie caught the fair girl to
his bosom.
" Mary," he uttered, as he gazed into the
sparkling eyes of the fair being who still
clung fondly to him, "you love me still—you
forgive roe all—and trust rue once more ?"
" Yes," she murmured, and ere she could
speak further, her father entered the room.
" Aha, so you've found him, have you
Mary ?" he cried, in a happy, joyous. tone.
" Mr. Williams," uttered Charles, still
heldilig Mary by the hand, and speaking
with lifficulty, "I hope I am not deceived.—
Oh, you have not brought me here to kill
me ? You cannot have passed this cup to
my lips only to clash it away again ?"
" Of course not," returned the merchant.
" But you must know the whole truth,
arid for fear my child will not tell you all,
I'll tell you myself.
" This noble girl has never ceased to love
you,
and when you were the lowest down,
she loved you the most.
" She came to me and asked me if she
might save you if she could. I could not
tell her nay, and she went to the work. She
has suffered much,. and, Charles, it remains
with you to decide whether her future shall
be one of happiness or not. Site knew that
you were down, that all your hope, that your ;
money was gone, and that your false friends
had forsaken you. Then it was that her
love for you grew bold and strong. She
wondered if you would repulse her. She
knew not what might be your feelings, and
to save herself the pain of a direct repulse
from you, she assumed a disguise, so that
she might approach you withi a bein g known,
and yet to gain some idea of your feelings,
and save you if she could. 1 think she has
done well. At any rate she has regained '
you to herself, and it must now be your e ven
fault if the silken ticis loosened again.'"
With these words, the father left the apart
ment.
"You, Mary ? you in disguise ?" queried
Charles, as soon as he could speak.
" Aye, dear Charles, and you know why I
did it. Here, do you remember it?" And
as she spoke, she drew from her bosom a
small silken purse, and took therefrom a six
pence.
The youth recognized it in an instant.
" Oh," he cried, as he strained the noble
girl to his bosom, " what can I say ? Mary
—Mary—my own heart's truest love—let my
life in years to come tell my gratitude. Oh,
my all in life is yours, and my last breath
shall bear your name in gratitude to God."
And Charles Aubrey never forgot his prom
ise. With this noble companion by his side
they travelled up the hill, and in his path
the flowers of life grew thick and fragrant,
Unon the wall of his sitting room hangs a
picture. It is a splendid painting of the
prodigal son's return. Upon the face of the
heavy gilt frame, visitors notice a small
blemish, but which upon closer examination,
proves to be a small silver coin. Our read
ers need not be told why that bit of metal is
thus carefully preserved.
A Sisrmes INTLuEscr..—A sister's influ
ence in a family, who can estimate its value,
if thrown on the side of order, harmony, and
fraternal union ? We think it will be found
that where a sister is loving, kind, and for
bearing, her brothers will grow np with gen
tle spirits towards manhood, and in but rare
instances wander from the path of virtue.—
Some sister:;.., and with regret be it spoken,
enter into selfish conflict with their brothers.
This is never done without an almost total de
struction of influence for food. The stronger
brother learns to despise the weaker sister,
who fails in every struggle withher rough
antagonist. Nothing does she gain, but oh !
how much does she loose Above all, and
worst of all, she looses influence for good over
her brother, who, in stepping forth into the
world, needs, above all things, the protecting
power of her unselfish love, going with him,
and remaining consciously with him as a pro
tecting angel.—Home Magazine.
g. If small boy is called a lad ; is it
proper to call a big boy a ladder.
...;
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4,--
4:4•' , 1
H. %r •
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P' 4,-.1
Editor and Proprietor.
Singular Case of Seclusion
The IFoY . Rock Inhabited—A Nun Found
in a Cave on Buckingham Mountain—A Res
idence of Forty rears Arre.qed I—On Friday
last a most singular case of discovery occurred,
by which it appears that the celebrated and
romantic " Wolf Rocks," on Buckingham
Mountain, in Bucks county, are inhabited by
a hermit who asserts that it has been his res
idence for more than forty years. On the
morning of that day, a colored. man, named
William Kennard, was passing along in the
vicinity of the part of the mountain in which
the rocks are located, and hearing a strange
noise like the rattling of tin-ware, or, to use
his own words, "like the dragging of a ket
tle by a chain," he became alarmed and ran
to another part of the mountain to obtain the
company of another colored man to go back
with him and make some explorations--
Having screwed up their courage to the stick
ing point, the two men armed with a crow
bar went back to the part of the rocks from
which the strange sound emanated and after
making considerable explorations were about
to abandon the enterprise when it occurred
to them that making a noise might bring the
stranger to sight. They placed themselves
in a position supposed to be near. the loca
tion from which the sounds bad emanated
and commenced beating the rocks with the
crow-bar. This soon had the effect of bring
ing a voice from sonic hiding place which
asked "who is it and what do you want?"—
They proceeded to the cleft in the rock and
after a diligent search succeeded in finding
an entrance to a large room or cavern in
which was a human being. Upon being asked
to comp out he refused to do so, and denied
the obtruders admittance, threatening to put
balls through them both if they attempted to
enter. They left, and, having obtained re
inforcements, returned again to the rocks
with the intention of bringing the hermit
from his hiding place. Finding himself
overpowered he yielded and came from his
retreat. It proved to be a person named Al
bert Large, who was born and raised in the
adjacent valley, but has been seen only oc-*
easionally for many years. Ire stated that
he had been an inhabitant of this cave for
more than forty years and had purchased his
clothes and food at villages several miles dis
tant. His beard was long, and the furniture
of his cell consisted of a few boards, some
leaves or straw, and some rude vessfor
holding water and cooking his mealt is
said that the old residents of the valley have,
for many years, frequently discovered smoke
issuing from the Wolf Rocks, but as no one
was known to inhabit them, it was supposed
to be a fog, or occasioned by some optical '
lusion, for which the most scientific men
were never able to make any satisfactory ex
planation. The man Large, it is said, labors
under a strange hallucination of mind, and
has not occupied the cell more than half as
long as he thinks he has. Even within the
last twenty years lie has frequently been seen
in the neighborhood weeks at a time, and
then would disappear for a long time, no one
in the valley knowing his whereabouts. It
is now supposed that the Wolf Rocks have
been his retreat at those times when he
wished to be secluded from the world.
His choosen spot was one of the most pic
turesque and romantic on the mountain, and
commanded a full view of the valley until it
is lost in the distant bills of New Jersey.—
The entrance to it was of a difficult access
and when once safely penetrated, gave "land
lord" a full view of all that was going on
among the young and ardent visitors of the
place. He has seen a vast deal of "billing"
and "cooing" among the young folks who
congregated there on Sunday afternoons to
advance matrimonial matters, and he also
can tell a charming story about some respec
table young men who have been on Sabbath
days, regaling their moral and physical con
stitution by card playing and other species
of gambling.
Our hern3it is related to a number of the
oldest and most respectable families in Buck
ingham Valley, was born and raised on the
farm now occupied by Samuel E. Broadhurst,
and has a brother Joseph S. Large, now liv
ing, who is one of the most distinguished
Episcopalian Ministers in the west.
P, S.—Since the above was in type, we
learn that a large number of persons from
the surrounding country visited the cave of
the hermit on Sunday last, The news flew
and the public curiosity was aroused by a
circumstance so novel and mysterious. That
a man had been living summer and winter
for many years in a cavern of a rock in sight
of the heart of the valley was too much for
the credulity of the neighborhood. A gen
tleman who visited the place in company
with many others, described it as one of con
siderable comfort and convenience. It was
provided with a bed, and over it and around
the apartment it was tightly boarded in a
manner that would have done credit to a
skillful carpenter. Over the entrance lead
ing to it was a large flat stone which ho rolled
away at pleasure when he wanted to go out
and which was carefully replaced whoa he
returned and wished to enter his sanctum.—
His kitchen utensils consisted of a tin kettle
and a basin, a bucket or two, some earthern
pots and an iron vessel in which he cooked
his food. The place although a• very seclu
ded one commands a view of about a hundred
houses, the nearest of which is less than half
a mile distant. It is certainly ono of the
singular cases on record and has thrown a
mystery around this mountain that may well
iill the minds of its sable inhabitants with
fear and trembling, as they silently tread its
secluded paths in their nightly missions and
decents upon the neighboring hen-roosts.—
Doylestown Dentoc)wt.
WILAT IS THIS - WORLD ?-A dream within 3
dream--as we grow older each step has an
inward awakening. The youth awakes, and
he thinks from childood—the full grown
man despises the pursuits of youth as vission
ary ; the old man looks on manhood as a fe
verish dream. Is death the last sloop ? No
—it is the last final awakening.—Sir. IT
&Ott. •
`- 'Why is the letter S like a sewing ma
chine? Because it makes needles needless.
" Man must have bodily work, and intel
letual work different from his bread-getting
work, or 85-runs the danger of becoming a
contracted pedant with a poor mind and a
sickly body. I have seen it quoted from Ar
istotle that the end ff lobo,. is to gain leisure.
It is a great saying. We have in modern
times a totally wrong view of the matter.—
Noble work is a noble thing, but not all work.
Most people seem to think that any business
is in itself something grand; that to be in
tensely employed, for instance, about some
thing which has no truth, beauty, or useful
uesss i n it, which makes no man happier or
wiser, is still the perfection of human endeav
ors, so that the work be intense. It is the
intensity, not the nature of the work, that
men praise.
NO, 46,
"Now. what is the end and obje, t of most
work? To provide for animal wants. Not
a contemptible thing, by any means ; but
still it is not all in all with man. Moreover,
in those cases where the pressure of bread
getting is fairly past, we do not often find
men's exertions lessened on that account.—
These enter into their minds as motives, am
bition, a love of hoarding, or a fear of leisure
--things which, in moderation, may be de
fended or even justified, but which are not
so peremptorily and upon the face of them
excellent, that they at once dignify excessive
labor.
" A parent or teacher seldom does a kin
der thing by the child under his care, that
when he instructs it in some manly exercise
—some pursuit connected with nature out of
doors, or even some domestic game. In hours
of fatigue, anxiety, sickness, or wordly fer
ment, such means of amusement may delight
the grown-up man when other things would
"An indirect advantage, but a very con
siderable one, attendant upon various modes
of recreation is, that they provide opportuni •
tics of excelling in something to boys and
men who are dull in things which form the
staple of education. A boy cannot see much
difference petween the nominative and the
,genitive cases—still less any occasion fur aer
ists—hut he is a good hand at some game or
other, and lie keeps up hi.s• seVrespret and the
respect of others for him, upon his prowress
in that game. lie is better and happier en
that account. And it is well, too, that the
little world around him should know that ex
cellence is not all of one form.
"And with reference to our individual ,3 u 1
tivation, we may remember that we are not
here to promote incalculable quantities of
law, physic, or manufactured goods, but to
become MEN-, not narrow pedants, but wide
seeing, mind-traveled men."
Solomon tells us that the glutton shall
come to poverty; warns us to be not among
riotous eaters of flesh, and even Lids us put
a knife to our throats if we be men given to
appetite. Is there no less desperate remedy?
Lord Byron once told a companion that if
some demi-god would dictate to us just how
much we ought to eat, it would put an end
to half the miseries of the race.
Jonathan Edwards we see noting in his
diary: "I find that I cannot he convinced,
in the time of eating, that to eat more would
be to exceed the bounds of temperance, tho'
I have had two years' experience of the like,
and yet three minutes after I have done,
am convinced of it. Bat yet again I over
eat, thinking I shall be somewhat faint if I
leave off then ; but when I have finished, I
am convinced again of excess, and so it is
from time to time. I have observed that
more really seems to be truth, when it is ac
cording to my inclination, than when other
wise.
Jefferson says that "no man ever repents
eating too little."
Sir Isaac Newton often dined on a penny's•
worth of bread.
Abernethy cured his indigestion and re
gained his flesh by "going into the country,
where he could get good milk and eggs, and
living upon three ounces otl- baked custard
taken three times a day, with no drink but
ginger -water. On this quantity of food he
regained his flesh and uniformly got better."
Marion and his men waxed strong and val
iant with no food but sweet potatoes, no
drink but water, and no shelter but the sky.
" Besides brown bread, the Greek boatmen
subsist almost solely on their native fruits,
figs, grapes and raisins. They are most nim
ble, active, graceful, cheerful, and even the
merry people in the world."
Grant Thornburn attributes his cheerful
old age to the fact that he " never eats
enough," and thousands of his countrymen
are wearing out their bodies riot so much by
the excess of business or the multiplicity of
cares, as by the overwork they crowd. upon
them in digesting surplus and unnecessary
food.
Dame Grundy was a pattern of good na
ture—always contented, and consequently
happy.
"I tell you what it is," said farmer Grun
dy one day to his neighbor Smith, "I really
wish I could hear Mrs. Grundy scold once,
the novelty of the thing would be so refresh
ing."
"I'll tell you," said his sympathizing
neighbor, "how to obtain your wish. Go in
to the woods, get a load of the most crooked
sticks you can possibly find, and my word
for it, she will be as cross as you desire."'
Farmer Grundy followed his neighbor
Smith's advice. Having collected a load of
the most ill-shaped, crooked, crochety mate
rials that were ever known under the name
of fuel, he deposited the sane at the door,
taking care that his spouse should have ac
cess to no other - wood. The day passed away,
however, and not a word was said ; another,
and still another, and no complaint: At
length the pile disappeared.
" - Woll, wife," said Mr. Grundy, "1 am go
ing after more wood. I'll get another load
just such as I got last time."
"0, yes, -Jacob," said the old lady, "it will
be so nice if you will, for such crooked, croch
ety wood as you brought before does lay
around the pee so nicely."
SnoEs rort 011ICKENS.—A correspondent of
the New England Farmer states that an old
lady in his vicinity has been in the habit for
several years of shoeing her chickens, in or
der to prevent them from scratching, and
suggests that a patent right be obtained for
the novel. invention. An elderly lady in the
vicinity of Baltimore, well versed in chicken
olog says—" Nonsense! there is no novelty
in the thing at all, for chickens have been
shooed ever since there was anybody to shoe,
them—and further—it often happens that
they ;ire shooed best when scratching the
worst."—Baltimore- Patriot.
wonder what makes my eyes so
weak," said a fop to a gentleman. "You
needn't wonder—they're in a weak - place,"
replied the gentleman.
Recreation
Advantages of Temperance
Couldn't Make lier Cross