The globe. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1856-1877, July 21, 1858, Image 1

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RICII I ! 1!
The union of Emerson's Magazine and 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
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ring the first month, the sale in the trade and demand from
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ume in January with still additional attractions, and to
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With this view they now announce the following splendid
programme. They have purchased that superb and costly
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and will present it to every three-dollar subscriber for the
year 1858. It was engraved at a cost of over $5,000, by
the celebrated A. L. Dick, from the original of -Raphael
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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 immedi
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In addition to the superb engraving of "The Last Sup
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of a series of splendid works of art, consisting of one hun
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ving-t, worth front three to live dollars each, and 1,1)00
choice Holiday Books, worth front one to live dollars each,
making. in all, over three thousand gifts, worth twenty
thousand dollars.
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upper," worth $5.
sth. Because you will be very likely to draw one of the
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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
tinue through the year,
To any person who will got up a club of twenty-four sub
scribers, either at one or more post offices, we will present
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ket. The club maybe formed at the club price, $2 a year,
without the engraving, or at the full price, $3, with the
Last Supper to each subscriber. List and description of
the Library, and specimen copy of the Magazine, will be
forwarded on receipt of 25 cents. Over 200 Libraries, or
3,000 volumes, have already been distributed 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 office iu the country.
The success which our agents are meeting with is almost
astonishing. Among the many evidences of this fact, we
are permitted to publish the following:
GENTLEMEN: The following facts in relation to what
your Agents are doing in this section, may be 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 Ridgly, Mo., your general agent for Platt county,
is making $S per day on each sub-agent employed by him,
and Messrs. Weimer 8: Evans, of Oregon, Mo., your agents
tbr Ilolt county, are making from $8 to 25 per day, and
your humble servant has made, since the 7th day of last
January, over $1,700, besides paying for 300 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. D.tmst. GREGG, Carrolton, Mo.
With such inducements as we offer, anybody can obtain
subscribers. We invite every gentleman out of employ
ment, and every lady who desires a pleasant money-ma
king occupation to apply at once for an agency. Appli
cants should inclose 25 cent&j, for a specimen copy of the
Magazine, which will alwayri)e forwarded with answer to
application by return mail.
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 $3, 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 ouiy to those who desire
to act as agents or to form clubs. Address
No. 371 Broadway, New York.
The Alexandria Foundry has been
bought by R. C. McGill:, and is in blast,
and have all kindsof Castings, Stoves, Ma- "f
chines, Plows. Kettles, 4:c., dc,which he 4.76M1.:
will sell at the lowest prices. All kinds 74:7
of Country Produce and old Metal taken in exchange for
Castings, at market prices.
April 7,1855
Letters of Administration on the Estate of CILtS.
C. LE.APHART, late of Walker township, Huntingdon
county, dec'd, having been granted to the undersigned, he
hereby notifies all persons indebted to said Estate to make
immediate payment, and those having claims against the
same to present them duly authenticated for settlement.
May 19, 1856.*
, ; , z,v;s.f,;. - buy CLOTMNG from me in Huntingdon at
WHOLESALE as cheap as they can in the
cities, as I have a wholesale store in Philadelphia.
Huntingdon, April 14, 1858. H. BOMAN.
A Large Stock, just received, and for sale at
• .r atest Styles of Ladies' Dres:
tirRRICKER'S Mammoth Store is the
• place to get the worth of your money, in Dry Goods,
ardware, Groceries, dx., &c., 6:e.
Article —at LOVE d; McDIVITT'S.
ent Extension Skirts, for sale only by
Are requested to call and examine the Hardware,
Of the best, always really for customers, at
$1 50
It. C. 3IcGILL
What heroes front the woodland sprung,
When through the fresh awakened land;
The cry of freedom rung,
And to the work of warfare strung.
The yeormtn's iron handl
Bill flung the cry to bills around,
And ocean Mart replied to mart,
And streams, whose springs were yet unfound,
Pealed far away the startling sound
Into the forest's heart.
Then marched the bravo from rocky steep,
From mountain river swift and cold;
The borders of the stormy deep
The vales where gathered waters sleep,
Sent up the strong and bold,—
As if the very earth again
Grow quick with God's creating breath,
And, from the suds of grove and glen,
Rose ranks of lion-hearted 111CI1
To battle and to the death.
The wife, whose babe first smiled. that day,
The fair fond bride of yestereve,
And aged sire and matron gray,
Saw the loved warriors haste away,
And deemed it sin to grieve.
Already had the strife begun;
Already blood on Concord's plain
Along the springing grass had run,.
And blood had flowed at Lexington,
Like brooks of April rain.
The death-stain on the vernal sward
Hallowed to freedom all the shore;
In fragments fell the yoke abhorred—
The footsteps of a foreign lord
Profaned the soil no snore.
During the month of March, 1778, the
British army being at Philadelphia, and the
American forces at Valley Forge, the Amer
ican Commander-in-chief was desirous of hav
ing some information concerning the state of
affairs in the city, and desired Captain Allen
M'Lane to pick him out a few trusty men, for
the purpose. M'Lane selected five of his own
men, with Sergeant John Marks for leader,
and sent the latter to head-quarters to receive
Marks was a very younli man to be entrust
ed with important services, being only twenty
two years of age ; but M'Lane had frequent
ly marked his conduct in camp and field, had
made himself well acquainted with his char
acter, and knew that he could be thoroughly
relied on. Marks was a lank, bony fellow,
with high cheek bones, square jaw, and rath
er large mouth; but he had a fine, expressive
eye, his features were exceedingly noble, and
his countenance entirely under his control.—
With this he possessed great powers of mim
icry, which he used to show off frequently
for the amusement of his comrades, and had
a reputation for shrewdness. His muscular
system had not received its full develope
ment ; but his habits had made him almost
as active as a panther. He was fully instruct
ed by General Washington, as to the informa
tion desired, and left camp at dark, arriving
in a short while at Port Kenedy, on the
Schuykill. At that point he struck across
the country, and by means of by-ways, with
which he was well acquainted, having been
raised in the neighborhood, evaded the scout-
ing-parties of the enemy, and arrived at
Mantua, before dark. Here he posted his
little troop, in a ceder hollow, overlooking
the river ; while lie in the disguise of a coun
tryman, with a sack of vegetables, which he
had stolen from a garden in the neighbor
hood, rode into the city. He not only es
caped detection, but managed to sell his veg
etables to a member of Howe's staff, was ta
ken to the general's presence, and in return
for false information in regard to Washing
ton's movements, managed to learn some facts
of importance. Promising to return in a
few days, with more vegetables , he was ena
abled to leave the town lisurely, with a pass
port in his pocket, and some sugar, coffee and
other articles of like nature in his sack. He
joined his men without suspicion about night
fall, and after dark the little party set out on
its return.
Now had Marks kept in the course by
which he came, it is possible he could have
reached the American lines ih good time,
and safely. But it happened that about a
mile from the river, at a point nearly oppo
site Spring Mill, there lived a farmer by the
name of M'lllvaine, who although a Quaker
and non-combatant, was well-disposed toward
the American cause. M'lllvaine b ad a daugh
ter, named Priscilla, and young and hand
some girl, to whom Marks was strongly at
tached, but who had never betrayed any symp
toms of affection in return. The house was
a half mile or more out, of the former route,
but lover-like, the trooper took his men in that
direction. It was late in the night when he
neared the place—the moon was down—yet
it was probably some satisfaction for the
young man to look upon the building where
he supposed his lady-love to be buried in re
As they silently and swiftly passed along,
the watch-dog of the farm began to
,bark, the
inmates of the house were alarmed, and a
light at one . of the windows showed them to
be stirring. At the same moment, a horse
man rode unexpectedly from the shadow of a
small patch of woods on the left, and chal
lenged the new-comers. The answer was a
pistol shot from Marks, which tumbled the
challenger from his horse. A general alarm
at the farm house succeeded, and was an
swered by a bugle-call a short distance ahead.
Marks found that he had come upon a post
of the enemy, and dashed on with his force.
At a turn of the road a hundred yards furth
er, they found a small detachment formed
across their path. As the Americans knew
the road forked on the other side of this
force, and their chances of escape were good
if they could reach the left hand road, which
was a mere by-path, to be ridden by only one
horseman at a time, they charged sword in
Three of the troop managed to break thro'
and escape, but Marks, and a. stout trooper
by the name of Gahi, from Bucks county,
were intercepted, and obliged to cross sabres
with the enemy. It proved useless to con
tend with superior numbers, by this time re
inforced by others from the farm house; and
after a short and severe contest, resulting in
the death of one of the British, troops, the
two Americans were taken prisoners, and
carried back to the house of M'lllvaine.
Marks was filled with chagrin, partly at
his folly in taking the most dangerous path,
and partly, at his inability to convey to ' the
Commander-in-chief, the valuable informa
tion he had picked up in the city. lie veiled
this mortification, however, in a cool and
careless demeanor ; and in reply to the lieu
tenant commanding the British .attachment,
said that he had been out on a foraging par
ty, had lost his way, and managed to get al
most within sight of the city before he discov
ered his blunder. Priscilla, who with the
rest of the family, was now awake and dress
ed, saw, but apparently did not recognize
Marks. After some more questions which
were answered in' what seemed to be an
open manner, the lieutenant directed the
Americans to be placed, securely bound and
guarded, in an upper room of house,
there to remain until morning. By the way
of comfort he gave them the assurance that
they would both be hanged as spies.
Marks with his companion passed a sleep
less night ; it was not alone the prospect of
an ignominious death which troubled him ;
but he had learned enough in the city to
know that a surprise movement similar to
that attempted on the previous 4th of Decem
ber, against the American forces, was set
down for the following day, and was aware
that it was entirely unexpected. He revolv
ed various plans of escape in his mind, none
of which appeared to be practicable, and
finally concluded to dismiss any premedita
tion on the matter, and be merely prepared
to take advantage of unexpected circumstan
ces. As for Gahl, he took matters like a
philosopher, and snored away all night in
happy unconsciousness of his situation.
At daylight the prisoners were brought
down and placed upon the porch, while Lieu
tenant Draper and the men under his com
mand took breakfast in the house. The
horses of the troopers, with those of Marks
and Gahl also, were all saddled and hitched
to the fences under the charge of a little
Scotebman named M'Pherson. Priscilla, ac
companied by Lieutenant Draper, came out,
the former bearing some food. After it was
partaken of, Priscilla laid the dishes, knives
and forks upon a bench on the porch, and
listened with apparent interest to the ques
tions put by the lieutenant. .The latter, by
way of encouragement, assured the two
Americans that if they gave true statements
their lives would be spared—otherwise they
would certainly be hanged. lie then left
them for a short time, to digest the informa
tion, Priscilla remaining behind.
The Quaker girl, still appearing not to re
cognize Marks, said to him, loud enough to
be heard by the soldiers who were passing
to and fro :
" I would advise thee, friend, to tell all
thee knows. Friend Draper will keep his
word with thee, lam sure. She then ad
ded in a low voice : "Keep still, John, and
I will save thee. Answer what I say, but
pay no heed to what I do."
Mark caught her intent in a moment, and
replied aloud :
" I won't turn scoundrel, miss, for fear of
death, even if I had any surety the captain
there would keep his word."
Other conversation followed, and Priscilla,
who had concealed a sharp case-knife in her
sleeve, managed to cut the prisoners' bonds
without observation; cautioning them at the
same time not to move too soon. She told
them that the lieutenant's horses, one of
which was ridden by his servant, and both
standing nearest the gate, were the swiftest
of all, and then went out and exchanged
some light observations with 11.I.'Pherson, pat
ting and admiring the various horses, one by
one. Marks kept a close watch upon her,
and noticed that she passed something under
the saddle-cloth of each horse; but she did
not lay her hands on the two horses of the
lieutenant. Priscilla returned presently, and
with a significant glance at the captives, en
tered the house, and engaged, Lieutenant
Draper in conversation.
M'Pherson, in the meanwhile, had noticed
that some manoeuvring was being made, and
came on the porch to inspect the fastenings
of the prisoners. As he did so, Gahl, who
was a very powerful man, struck him be
tween the two eyes with his full force, and
the Scotchman fell backwards from the raised
floor to the ground, striking his head against
a stone so severely as to take away his senses
for the time. Before the alarm could be
given, Marks and Gahl were mounted on the
officer's horses, 'and galloping furiously up
the road. Draper rushed out, and, hurried
pistol shots being ineffectual, ordered a pur
suit. But the party had not proceeded a
dozen yards before every horse grew restive,
and at length utterly unmanageable. All
attempts to control them were in vain, and
the horses growing more furious unseated
trooper after trooper. The single exception
was in Marks' own horse, which Draper had
mounted. He was quiet enough ; but Dra
per happening to dismount, in order to ex
amine into the cause of the trouble, the steed
galloped off after his master, whom he ulti
mately overtook.
After considerable time thus lost, it oc
curred to the lieutenant that there was some
trick in the matter. The horses were strip
ped and it was found that the sharp burs of
the burdock had been placed under every
saddle, and had fretted and. galled the ani
mals almost to madness.
,By this time the
fugitives had too much start, and pursuit
was abandoned.
About four miles further on Marks and
Galil fell in with three troopers of the enemy.
The Americans were without sabres, but
there were pistols in the holsters, and with
these they settled two of their opponents.—
The third put spurs to his horse, and turning
down a cross-road, escaped. Marks and his
friend were in too much of a hurry to pursue
him, and. rode on towards the camp where
they arrived that afternoon. The informa
tion that Marks brought was of essential ser
vice. The British arrived during the night,
but found such formidable preparation made
to receive the attacking columns, that they
quietly retreated by the road they came.
Lieutenant Draper suspected Priscilla, who
denied having a hand in the matter, and won
dered very much where the burs had been
obtained at that season of the year. The
truth is, that the girl had got them from
some uncombed wool, which lay in an upper
chamber, the sheep of the farm having-gath
ered them in their rambles. Thus two
kinds of non-combatants had played impor
tant parts in the matter; but the lieutenant
never found that out. Ile never ceased to
lament the loss of his pistols, which 'were a
handsome silver-mounted pair, nor his showy
cloak, which had been strapped behind his
saddle, both proving of great service to
Marks and Gabi were promoted. The lat
ter was made a sergeant, and was killed
afterwards in a skirmish at Van Dam's Mill.
Marks served through the war, berame ulti
mately a captain, and distinguished himself
in several actions. After the war he return
ed to Chester county, and Priscilla became
his wife. The latter was formally "disown
ed" by her-sect, for "marrying out of meet
ing," and for having aggravated her offence,
by being married by " a hired priest." The
expulsion did not seem to affect her spirits
much, for she became a jolly, contented ma
tron, and lived to a good old age, surviving
her husband two years. The descendants of
the couple still live in Chester and Montgom
ery counties, with the exception of a grand
son, George Marks, who is, or was recently,
a thriving farmer, in Vinton county, Ohio.
Ashamed of his Mother.
A few years since a young clerk was point
ed out to the writer, in the city of Boston, as
an object•of special curiosity, for the follow
ing reasons:
He was handsome, but poor and proud.—
The clothes on his back and in his trunk
were all that he was worth and perhaps more.
His mother was a pious widow in very hum
ble circumstances, and was much neglected
by her unfaithful son. He was suddenly
taken sick and a dangerous fever followed.—
„He was soon glad to send for his neglected
parent to administer to his wants. She came
with a mother's love and watched by his bed
side by night and by day with a mother's
tenderness. Providence interposed and the
young man recovered. One day a shopmate
called to see him when he introduced his
mother as his nurse! He was ashamed of
her lowly appearance because it disclosed his
humble origin, and he took this cruel, heath
enish way to mislead his associate. Place
such an example of downright barbarity in
contrast with the filial devotion of a Law
rence and it seems like the deed of some un
tutored Hindoo or South Sea Islander.—
Ashamed to confess his humble origin ! The
curse of God will follow him to his grave un
less his life is marked by a change. Every
honorable sentiment of humanity condemns
such want of affection, while it proves the
opposite. in the faithful Lawrence. Men de
spise the one and admire the other.
Just as Well to do it in a Hurry.
Why, you see, when my man came a court
in' me, I hadn't the least thought of what he
was after—not I. Jobie came to our house
one night after dark, and rapped at the door.
I opened it, and sure enough there stood Jo
bie right before my face and eyes. "Come
in," sez I, " and take a cheer." "No, Liz
zie." sez he, "I've come on an arrant, and I
always do my arrantS fust." "But you had
better come in and take a. cheer, Mr. W.—."
"No, I can't. The fact is, Lizzie, I've come
on this 'ere courtin' business. My wife's
been dead these two weeks, and everything's
going to rack an' ruin right straight along.
Now, Lizzie, of you've a mind to hev me, an'
take care of my house, an' my children, an'
my things, tell me, an' I'll come in an' take
a cheer ; if not, I'll get some one else tu."
Why I was skeered, and I seed—"lf you
come on this courtin' business, come in ;
must think on't little." "No can't till I
know. That's my arrant—an' I can't sit
down till my arrant's done." "I should like
to think on't a day or two." "No, you
needn't Lizzie." "Well, Jobie, if I must, I
must—so here's to you, then."
So Mr. W—came in. Then he went af
ter the Squire an' he married us right off,
an' I went home with Jobie that very night,
I tell you what it is, these long courtin's dont
amount to nothing at all. Just as well to do
it in a hurry.
Take no Thought for the Morrow
"If the most anxious and unhappy men of
the world," says Dr. Chalmers, "were ex
amined as to the ground of their disquietude,
it would be found, in nine hundred and
ninety-nine cases out of the one thousand,
that the provision of this day was not the
ground of it. They carry forward their im
aginations to a distant futurity, and fill it up
with the spectres of melancholy and despair.
What a world of unhappiness would be saved
if the things of the. day, its duties, employ
ments and services were. to occupy all our
hearts; and as to to-morrow, how delightful
to think that we have the sure warrant of
God for believing that by committing its is
sues in quietness to Him, when the future
day comes, the provision of that day will
come along with it. What I would like to
impress upon all who are beset with anxieties
about the future days they are to live in this
world is, that daily bread is one of the ob
jects it is agreeable to the will of God that
we should ask, for it is the very petition
which the Son of God taught his disciples.
We have a full warrant, then, for • believing
that we shall get it, and according to the
faith of our prayer, so will it be done unto
. , .
II .
Sometime just before or about the begin
ning of the revolutionary war, Sergeant Jas
per, of Marion's Brigade had the good for
tune to save the life of a young, beautiftil and
dark-eyed creole girl called Sally St. Clair.—
ller susceptible nature was overcome with
gratitude to her preserver, and this soon
ripened into a passion of love, of the most
deep and fervent kind. She lavished upon
him the whole wealth of her affections, and
the whole depth of passion nurtured by a
Southern sun. When he was called upon to
join the ranks of his country's defenders, the
prospect of their separation almost madden
ed her. Their parting came ; but scarcely
was she left alone, ere her romantic nature
prompted the means of re-union. Once re
solved, no consideration of danger could
dampen her spirit, and thought of conse
quence could move her purpose. She sever
ed her long and jetty ringlets, and provided
herself, and set forth to. follow the fortunes
of her lover.
A smooth-faced, 'beautiful and delicate
stripling appeared among the hardy, rough
and giant frames who composed the corps to
which Jasper belonged. The contrast be
tween the stripling and these men, in their
uncouth garbs, their massive faces, embrown
ed and discolored by the sun and pain, was
indeed striking. But none was more eager
for the battle, or so indifferent to fatigue as
the fair faced boy. It was found that his
energy of character, resolution and courage,
amply supplied his lack of physique. None
ever suspected-that she was a woman. None,
even Jasper himself, although she was often
by his side, penetrated- her with kindness
and respect, and often applauded her heroic
bravery. The. romance of her situation in
creased the fervor of her passion. It was
her delight to reflect that unknown to him,
she was by his side to watch over him, in the
hour of danger. She had fed her passion by
gazing upon him in the hour of slumber;
hovering near him when stealing through the
swamp and thicket, and always ready to avert
danger from his head.
But gradually there stole a melancholy
presentiment over the poor girl's mind. She
had been tortured with hopes deferred, the
war was prolonged, and the prospect of be
ing restored to him grew more and more un
certain. But now she felt that her dream of
happiness could never be realized. She be
came convinced that death was about to
snatch her away from his side ; but she
prayed that she might die, and he never
know to what length the violence of her pas
sion had led her.
It was the eve before a battle. The camp
had sunk into a repose. The watch-fires
were burning low, and only the slow tread
of sentinels fell upon the profound silence of
the night air as they moved through the dark
shadows of the forest. Stretched upon the
ground, with no other couch than a blanket,
reposed the warlike form of Jasper. Climb
ing vines trailed themselves into a canopy
above his head, through which the stars
shone softly. The faint flicker from the ex
piring embers of fire fell athwart his counte
nance, and tinged the cheek of one who bent
above his couch. It was the smooth-faced
stripling. She bent low down, as if to listen
to his dreams or to breathe into his soul
pleasant visions of love and happiness. But
tears traced themselves down the fair one's
cheek, and fell silently but rapidly upon the
brow of her lover. A mysterious voice has
told that the hour of parting has come, that
to-morrow her destiny is consummated. There
is one last, long, lingering look, and the un
happy maiden is seen to tear herself away
from the spot, to weep out her sorrows in
Fierce and terrible is the conflict that on
the morrow rages on that spot. Foremost in
that battle is the intrepid Jasper, and ever
by his side fights the stripling warrior.—
Often, during the heat and smoke, gleams
suddenly upon the eyes of Jasper the melan
cholly face of the maiden. In the thickest of
the fight, surrounded by enemies, the lovers
fight side by side. Suddenly a lance is lev
eled at the breast of Jasper; but swifter than
the lance, is Sally St. Clair. There is a wild
cry, and at the feet of Jasper sinks the maid
en, with the life-blood gushing from her
white bosom. He heeds not the din or the
danger of the conflict; but down bythe side
of the dying boy he kneels. Then, for the
first time, does he learn that the stripling is
his love; that often by the camp-fire, and in
the swamp, she has been by his side ; that
the dim visions in his slumber, of an angel
face hovering above him, had. indeed been
true. In the midst of the battle, with her
lover by her side, and the barb still in her
bosom, the heroic maiden dies
Tier name, her sex, and her noble devotion
soon became known through the corps.—
There was a tearful group gathered around
her grave; -there was not of these hardy war
riors one who did riot bedew her grave with
tears. They buried her near the river San
tee, " in a green shady nook, that looked as
if it had been stolen out of Paradise."
A Toucit ONE—RATIIER.—A gentleman
traveling "down east" overtook a farmer
dragging a lean, wretched looking horned
sheep along the road:
"Where are you going with that miserable
animal ?" inquired the traveler..
" I am taking_ him to the mutton mill to
have him ground over," said the farmer.
"The mullon, mill! I never heard of such
a thing. I will go with you and witness the
They arrived at the mill ; the sheep was
thrown alive into the hopper, and almost im
mediately disappeared, They then decended
to a lower department, and, in a few mo
ments, they were ejected from the spout in
the ceiling, four quarters of excellent mutton,
two sides of morocco leather, a wool hat of
the first quality, a sheep's head, handsomely
dressed, and two elegantly-carved powder
Were it not for the fact that the above is
"in the papers," we should feel disposed to
dispute it.
Editor and Proprietor.
The Warrior Maiden.
Bayard Taylor, who last' summer made a
journey to the North Cape, writes from Ilam
merfest, Finmark, his impressions of the con
tinuous polar daylight of the Arctic latitudes,
from which we extract the following :
" I am tired of this unending daylight,
and would willingly exchange the pomp of
the Arctic midnight for the starlit darkness
of home. We are confused by the loss of
night ; We lose the perception of time. One
is never sleepy, but simply tired, and after a
sleep of eight hours by sunshine wakes up
as tired as ever. His sleep at last is broken
and irregular; he substitutes a number of
short naps, distributed through and finally
gets into a state of general uneasiness and
discomfort. A Hammerfest merchant, who
has made frequent voyages to Spitzbergen,
told me that in the latitude of 80 deg. he
never knew certainly whether it was day or
night, and the cook was: the only person on
board who could tell hint,.
"At firse'the nocturnal sunshine strikes
you as being wonderfully convenient. You
lose nothing of the scenery; you can read
and write as usual; you never need be in a
hurry, because there is time enough for every
thing. It is not necessary to do your day's
work in the daytime, for no night cometh.—
You are never belated, somewhat of the
stress of life is lifted from your shoulders.—
But, after a time, you would be glad of an
excuse to stop seeing, and observing, and
thinking, and even enjoying.
" There is no compulsive rest, such as
darkness brings—tio sweet isolation, which
is the best refreshment of sleep. You lie
down in the broad day, and the summons
' arise I' attends on reopening your eyes. I
never went below and saw my fellow-ps,ssen
gem all around me without' a sudden feeling
that something'was wrong, that they were
drugged, or under some unnatural influence;
that they thus slept so fast while the sun
shine streamed in through the port-holeS;
" There are some advantages of this North
ern summer which have presented themselves
to me in rather a grotesque light. Think
what an aid and shelter is removed from
crime—how many vices which can only flour
ish in the deceptive atmosphere of night,
must be checked by the sober reality of day
light ! No assassin can dog the steps of his
victim ; no burglar can work in sunshine
no guilty lovers can hold stolen interviews
by moonlight—all concealment is removed,
fur the sun, like the Eye of God, sees every
thing, and the secret vices of the earth must
be bold indeed, if they can bear his gaze,:
Morally, as well as physically, there is safe
ty in light, and danger in darkness—and yet
give me the darkness and the danger ! Le:6
the patrolling sun go off his beat for a while,
and show a littte confidence in my ability to
behave properly, rather than worry me with
his sleepless vigilance.
NO, 4.
"I say, friend, your horse is a little cod
trary, is he not?"
" No sir-eel"
"What makes him stop, then?"
"Oh ; he's afraid som'ebody'll say 'whoa,'
and he shan't hear it."
A western exchange says: "Two ladies
were traveling in the cars last week, when
one said to the other :
"I was Married, but heard that my hits
band Was killed in Pittsburg, and I am going
there' to ascertain if the report be true."
" Well, I've got a dead sure thing on my
husband," remarked the other, " for I Saw
him buried five weeks ago."
Let a beauty in the' opera box but raise
her glass to her eyes,• and instantly you will
see fifty brainless young fellows in the pit all
plaining their glasses upon her, every one of
them imagining, in the supremacy of his con
ceit, that he is the favored object of her
lengthened inspection..
An exchange paper says : " There is noth
ing like nature as developed in feminines ;
for no sooner does a female juvenile begin to
walk and notice' things, than it takes after
its mother, and wants a baby. It is almost
incredible how much of matter" and feeling
is wasted on rag babies and squint-eyed
Dutch dolls.-
"Jerome! Jerome!" screamed Mrs. But
terfield,. the other day, to her biggest boy,
"what are you throwing to those pigeons ?
"Gold beads, mother, and the darned fools
are catin"cm ; ,speets they think it's corn."
A cotemporary, noticing the appointment
of a postmaster, says
"If he attends to the' mails as well as he
does to the females,- he will make a very at
tentive and efficient officer."
A lady wrote upon a window some verso
intimating her design of never marrying.—
A gentleman wrote the following lines un
The lady whose resolve tliese words beloken;
Wrote them on glass, to show it may be broken:
Istsn Loam—Mick Casey used- to " tend"
in Carew's grocery on the . corner.- Smith
(you know Smith) , went in the' other day
after some " fixin," and among the rest, call
ed for a gallon of molasses. There was
about a pint in the measure when Mick com
menced drawing,. and after filling it he pour
ed into Smith's vessel until about a pint was
left, as before, in the measure, and then set
it down under the cask.
" Hallo !" says Smith,. " what aro you
about? Why don't you put in a gallon as I
ordered ?" .
" A gallon is it, sur ?' An' sure an' there's
that much in the jug," replied Mick.
Of course,. Smith would never believe this,
as there was a - pint left in the measure, and
he made no bones of accusing Mick of at
tempting to cheat him.
" Sur," asked Mick,
in the measure ?"
• " Yes."
" Well, thin, there's the same now 2"
" Well, thin, sure, an' ye have all that be
longs to yer, didn't I draw 'the measure full
and put it in the jug ?"
" No—there's a pint left I,"
" The divil, sur ! an' wasn't that pint there
before I Get yerself out of the store, ye
specimen of maneness, to be afther chatin' a
lad out of a pint of molasses !"
Smith left, being utterly unable to con
vince Mick of the " error of his ways."
How TRUE.--" Scratch the green rind of
a sapling, or wantonly twist it in the soil,
and-the scarred and crooked oak will tell of
thee for centuries to come." How forcibly
does this beautiful figure teach the lesson of
giving right instead of wrong tendencies to
the young mind.- .
ttEr,Ai shoemaker ; intending to be absent a
few days, lampblacked a shingle . with the fol
lowing, without data, and nailed it upon his
door :—"Will be home in ten days after you
see this shingle."
Perpetual Sunshine.
" wasn't there a pint