TERNS OF THE GLOBE.
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Six months
Three months
A failure to notify a discontinuance at the expiriation of
the term subscribed for will be considered a new engage
ment.
TERMS OF ADVERTISING
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one year, $3 00
Administrators' and Executors' Notices, $1 75
Advertisements not marked with the number of inser
tions desired, will be continued till forbid and charged ac
cording to these terms.
NEW GOODS! NEW GOODS!!!!
D. P. G.WIN'S CHEAP STORE
D. P. GWIN has just returned from Philadelphia with
the largest and most beautiful assortment of
SPRING AND SUMMER GOODS
Ever brought to Huntingdon. Consisting of the most
fashionable Dross Goods for Ladies and Gentlemen ; Black
and Fancy Silks, all Wool Delaines, (all colors,) Spring De
tains, Braize Delanes, Braizes all colors; Debaize, Levelly:
Cloth, Alpacca, Plain and Silk Warp, Printed Berages, Bril
liants,Plain and Colored Ginghams, Lawns and Prints of
everdescription.
Also,_ a large lot of Dress Trimmings, Fringes, More-An
tique Ribbon, Gimps, Buttons, Braids, Crapes, Ribbons,
Reed and Brass Hoops, Silk and Linen Handkerchiefs, Neck-
Ties, Stocks, Zepher, French Working Cotton, Linen and
Cotton Floss, Tidy Yarn, tc.
Also, the best and cheapest assortment of Collars and
Undersleves in town ; Barred and Plain Jaconet, Mull Mus
lin. Swiss, Plain, Figured and dotted Skirts, Belts, Mar
sallies for Capes, and a variety of White Goods too numer
ous to mention.
SPRING SHAWLS, THIBET SHAWLS, MANTILLAS, Cc
Also, Cloths, Ca.ssimers, Cassinets, K. Jean, Cot. Drills,
bluslins, Ticking.% Nankeen, Table Diapers, 4:c.
Also a large lot of Bonnets, Flats, and Hats, at low pri
ors.
BOOTS anti SHOES, the largest anti cheapest assortment
in town.
HARDWARE, QUEENSWARE, BUCKETS, CHURNS,
TUBS, BUTTE It BOWLS, BROOMS, BRUSHES, &c. CAR
PETS and OIL CLOTH. FISH, SALT, SUGAR, COFFEE,
TEA, MOLASSES, and all goods usually kept in aconntry
more.
My old customers, and as many new ones as can crowd
in, are respectfully requested to call and examine my goods.
itif- All kinds of Country Produce taken in exchange, at
time Highest Market Prices
April 21, 1855,
\ -- EW STORE !—NEW GOODS ! !
FISHER, & McIKURTRIE having re
opened
the AIETICOPOLITAN, formerly known as " SR:CA . OIVA,"
take pleasure in announcing to their many friends. that
they have received a new and well selected Stock of GOODS,
which they feel confident will satisfy the demands of the
public, mid will prove unexceptionable in Style and Quality.
The line of Dress Goods embraces Robes
A'Quille, in Organdies. Lawns, Percales, &c.. Chaleys.
rages, Brilliants. all Wool DeLaines, Cravella, Mohair. Dan
ubian, Tamise and Lavelle, Cloths, Deßage Lustres, Alpitc
cac, Prints, Oinghams, _
.
We have a fine assortment of Summer
Ellawls,-Mantillas Dress Fringes, Antic - 1110's,
Hibbons, Mitts, Gloves, Gauntlets, Hosiery, Ladies Collarb,
Handkerchiefs. Buttons, Floss Sewing :ills, Whalebones
for Skirts, Reed (loops, Brass Floss,
Skirt Cord, &c.
Also—Tickings, Osnaburg, Bleached and
Unbleached 31uslins, all prices; Colored and White Catil
brim Barred and Swiss Muslins, Victoria Lawns, Nail'-
nooks, Tarleton, and many other articles which comprise
the line of WHITE and DOMESTIC GOODS.
We hare French Cloths, Fancy Cassiniong. Satinets, :Jeans
Tweeds, Cot onades, Linens, Deninim and Blue Drills..
Hats, Caps, and Bonnets, of every variety
and Style. Also, a large assortment of all kinds of Straw
4PArl.r.
A Good Stock of GROCERIES, HARDWARE, QUEENS
IV ARE. BOOTS and SHOES, WOOD and WILLOW-WARE,
whirl, will be sold Cheap.
We also deal in PLASTER, FISR, SALT, and all kinds
of GRAINS. and possess facilities in this branch of trade
ittieotiaiied by any. We deliver all packages or parcels of
Merchandise free of charge at the Depots of the Broad Top
and Pennsylvania Railroads'.
COME ONE, COME ALL, and be convinced that the Me
tropolitan is the place to secure fashionable and desirable
goods, disposed of at the lowest rates.
April 14, 1858.
F OR EVERYBODY.
TRY THE NEW STORE,
On Hill STreet opposite Miles & Dorris' Office
TIL 13 BEST
SUGAR. and MOLASSES,
COFFEE, TEA. and CHOCOLATE,
FLOUR, FISH, SALT and VINEGAR,
CONFECTIONERIES, CIGARS and TOBACCO,
SPICES OF THE BEST, AND ALL KINDS,
and every other article usually found in a Grocery Store
ALSO— Drugs, Chemicals, Dye Stairs.
Paints, Varnishes, Oils and Spts. Turpentine,
Fluid, Alcohol, Glass and Patty,
BEST WINE' and BRANDY for medical purposes.
ALL TILE BEST PATENT MEDICINES,
and a large number of articles too numerous to mention.
The public generally will please call and examine fur
themselves and learn my prices,
Huntingdon, May 23, 1858.
LT~I
The subscriber respectfully v announces aiif4i to his friends'
and the public generally, that he has leaned that old and
well established TAVERN STAND, known as the . .
Huntingdon House, en the corner of Hill and ;7 - =
Charles Street, in the Borough of Huntingdon.— , fle
Ile has fitted up the House in such a style as to.A.m4M --
render it very comfortable for lodging Strangers and Tray
eters.
TABLE will always be stored with the best the sea
son can afford, to suit the takte. and appetites of his guests.
lIIS HAIL will always be filled with Choice Liquors, and
HIS STABLE: always attended by careful and attentive
Ostlers.
.(!•- Ile hopes by strict attention to businPss and a spirit
of accommodation, to merit and receive a liberal share of
public patronage.
May 12, 1858—ly
A TTENTION ALL I
- JUST ARRIVED,
A St'LE:N.7DID STOCK OF BOOTS AND SHOES,
• FOB LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.
MISSES, BOYS AND CRILDREN.
For Men and Boys' Fine Boots, call at
WESTBROOK'S Boot and Shoe Store.
For Ladies and _Misses Gaiters and Shoes, call at
WESTBROOK'S.
For Children's Shoes of all kinds, call nt
WESTBROOK'S.
For Men and Boys' Coarie Boots and Shoes, call at
WESTBROOK'S.
For 3lorocco Leather, call at
For any thing you want in my lino,
CALL SOON.
For Ladies' Gaiters at prices from $l.OO to
_52.25, call on
Huntingdon, May 5, 1858
ALEXANDItIA FOUNDRY !
The Alexandria Foundry has been •—•
bought by it. C. McGILL, and is in blast,
and have all kinds of Castings. Stores, Ma 4 ,,::. 111 M .P 1119 , 4:
chines, Plows. Kettles. &c., dc., which he t. i ; f . 4: ®
will
will sell at the lowest prices. All kinds,le.r'gtfir.
of Country Produce and old Metal taken in exchange for
Castings, at market prices.
April 7, 1858. It. C. McGILL.
COUNTRY DEALERS ca n
I,Ali^' , !Fr buy CLOTHING from ►ne in Huntingdon at
WHOLESALE as cheap as they can in the
cities, as I have a wholesale store iu Philadelphia.
Huntingdon, April 14, 1858. lt. ROMAN.
VARNISH ! VARNISH ! !
ALL KINDS, warranted good, for sale at
DROWN'S Hardware Store,
Huntingdon, Pa.
April 28, 1858-tf.
) I[4
ADIgS, 4TTENTION !—My assort
men t of beautiful dress goods is now open, and ready
or inspection. Every article of dress you may desire, can
bo fouud at my store. D. P. GIVIN.
IJARDWARE !
A Large Stock, just received, and for sale at
BRICKER'S MAMMOTH STORE
rrHE MAMMOTH STORE
Is the place for Latest Styles of Ladies' Dress Goods.
4a- BRICKER'S Mammoth Store is the
• place to get the we rth of your money, in Dry Goods,
rdware, Groceries, ac., &e., &e.
TIOUGLASS & SHERWOOD'S Pat
ent Eteneion Slifrbil, for sale only by
FISHER & MeMERTRIE.
RUILDERS
at 4re r e q uested to call and exatuino the Hardware,
BRICKER'S ItIASIMOTH STORE.
GROCERIES,
Of the best, always ready for customers, at
J. BRICKER'S MAMMOTH STORE
ANT HEAT!
For Fide at
$1 50
75
50
D. P. GIV IN
S. S. SMITH
P. MeATEEIt
WESTBROOK'S
LEVI WESTBROOK
D. P. GRIN'S
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XIV.
rlttu.
CHILDHOOD.
BY DAVID BATF.S
Childhood, sweet and sunny childhood;
With its careless thoughtless air;
Like the verdant tangled wildwood,
Wants the training hand of care.
For it springeth all around us—
Glad to know and quick to learn—
Asking questions that confound us—
Teaching lessons in its turn.
Who loves not its joyous revel,
Leaping lightly on the lawn,
Up the knell, along the level,
Free, graceful as a fawn ?
Let it revel—'tis its nature,
Giving to the little dears
Strength of limb and healthful features,
For the toil of coming years.
He who checks the child with terror,
Stops its play and stops its song;
Not alone commits an error,
But a great and moral wrong.
Give it play and never fear it,
Active life is no defect;
Never, never check its spirit,
Curb it Only to direct.
Would you darn the flowing river,
Thinking it would cease to flow?
Onward it must go forever—
Better teach it where to go.
Childhood is a fountain swelling,
Trace its channel lathe sand,
And its currents spreading, swelling,
Will revive their withered hand.
Childhood is the vernel season,
Trim and train the verdant shoot;
Love is to the coming season,
As the blossom to the fruit.
Tender twigs are bent and folded,
Art to nature beauty lends;
Childhood easily moulded,
Manhood breaks, but seldom bends
a tlttt -65-tcr.rll.
[From the London Family Herald.]
SHE WOULDN'T BE JEALOUS
"No, by Jove!" exclairued Harry Vane,
as he threw himself back in an easy-chair
and gracefully removed a fragrant Havana
from his lips for the purpose of exhaling the
clouds of the perfumed smoke ; " no, by
Jove !" he repeated, "I wouldn't marry a
jealous woman if she was the richest heiress
in the world. I tell you, Walter, it wouldn't
do for my wife to be jealous. This being
eternally constant to any one little bundle of
lace and divinity is an utter impossibility to
a man of my constitution. I have a natural
taste for variety, you see; and the most I
want of a wife is to keep house fur me, and
take care of things, and give me a little lei
sure to make myself agreeable to womankind
in general. When nothing more agreeable
turns up, why of course then she' can have
the privilege of entertaining me, which, with
the consolation of knowing that her husband
is the most accomplished lady killer in town,
will, I take it, be ample compensation for all
her services in my behalf. But you see if
she were any way jealous she might not
think it so."
"It would be possible, I should think,"
said Walter Everett " that she might be in
clined to disagree with you. I should think
any woman who loved you would naturally
object to such an arrangement."
"Oh, pshaw, Everett !" exclaimed Harry ;
" that proves you to be a novice. Don't you
know that love in a female heart is made up
of just two elements—vanity and self-sacri
fice. Just give a woman a husband she is
proud of and you—or, that is, you might not
be able to—but a man of my accomplish
ments can coax her into. anything under the
sun. Wait till I marry—l'll show you how
to manage a wife. I'll show you how to
unite all the freedom of a bachelor with all
the privileges of a Benedict."
Walter smiled, and puffed away at his cigar
in silence.
• The two young men were clerks in a large
mercantile establishment in the city. They
occupied apartments in the same house, and
were generally on very close and intimate
terms. Perhaps it may not be necessary to
inform the reader that Harry was something
of a coxcomb, though he was by no means
as immoral as might be inferred from his
own account of himself. This Walter knew
and he could therefore listen to his occasional
strains of gasconade with the utmost serenity,
even though perfectly aware at the time that
the speaker entertained serious ideas of final
ly bestowing the ineffable honor of his name
and protection upon a certain little cousin of
his own, Miss Susie Stanton. That his con
fidence went so far as to lead him to conceal
from the said young lady the sentiments so
frequently expressed, we cannot vouch. In
deed, the writer rather has the idea that the
two frequently talked over in private this un
fortunate failing of their mutual friend, and
studied frequently to devise some method of
reducing the proportions of Harry's organ of
vanity.
Nothing, however, very effectual was ac
complished during the courtship, and in pro
cess of time Mr. Harry Vane entered the
state of matrimony under the full conviction
that his loving Susie possessed not one spark
of jealousy, and that her over-weening affec
tion for him would lead her to accept with
unfeigned gratitude and joy whatever atten
tions it might please him to bestow upon her,
and to preserve a discreet silence in regard
to whatever she might see in his outgoings or
incomings that was peculiar or mysterious.
To do Susie justice, she was not naturally
of a jealous disposition ; but besides her in
nate amiability in that respect, she had a
little bit of that shy, womanly pride, which
made her rosolve she wouldn't be jeal
ous. No, indeed,. she would not be pointed
at as a jealous wife, neither should Mr. Harry
Vane have the pleasure of insinuating that
he managed his wife; that she was duly in-
'''.:::?: 1... 75 :•',. , ,'" ,
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is.
'';'sY
:
strutted and trained at home to look.conve
niently in the other direction whenever he
chose to _open the invincible battery of his
fascinations upon any innocent and unsus
pecting young female. No, no, the little
lady was too cute for that.
It therefore happened that whenever at a
ball or party Mr. 'Tarry Vane made himself
particularly agreeable to any lady, Mrs. Harry
Vane also cultivated the acquaintance of the
same individual. If Mr. Harry Vane only
danced with the young; lady, or escorted her
out to supper, Mrs. harry Vane contented
herself with the most amiable inquiries after
the said young lady's health, and gracious
hopes that the family at home were quite
well. If Mr. Vane danced twice or thrice
with the young lady, Mrs. Vane straightway
invited her to call, and intimated that she
should very soon give herself the pleasure of
visiting the young lady, and if matters went
still further, and Mr. Harry Vane indulged
in a little tete-a-tete, or a flirtation, Mrs. Harry
Vane immediately fixed a day, and asked the
young lady to tea.
At home, too, if 11Jr. Harry Vane exclaim.
ed with enthusiasm, " by Jove, but that Miss
West has a splendid figure 1" Mrs. V. re
plied with equal enthusiasm, " she has, in
deed, and she danced admirably." Or if
Harry remarked that "Araminta, Waters was
decidedly the handsomest woman at Mrs.
Morgan's party," Susie added, gently, " that
rumor said she was as amiable and accom
plished as she was handsome and fascin fain m."
By this sly way of fighting fire with fire she''
had succeeded in extinguishing a half dozen
glowing penchants in the bosom of her liege
lord ; while, at the same time, the uniform
sweetness and amiability of her own conduct
could not fail to deepen the admiration and
respect which Harry had possessed for her
when he married her.
So it went on for a, year or two, and Susie
found herself a mother. After that, things
seemed to mend a little; but baby's charms
soon lost their power, and Susie's trial took
another form. Her loving heart, which was
constantly, though quietly, watchful of Har
ry's lightest movement, was wounded at its
most sensitive point. Harry frequently left
;home without inviting her to accompany him,
or even informing her of his destination.—
Much as her anxious fears were startled by
this new shadow upon her domestic peace,
Susie had the discretion to say nothing, but
nrlnt. n Nvh 1 fn annhip hpr necidnitv in winninfr
him to home pleasures. All her efforts, how
ever, availed her little; at last one evening
in the week he continued to spend away from
her. At first-she was - afraid he might be en
terinn• upon some course of dissipation, but
careful observation soon convinced her that
whatever sin might be laid to his charge, the
love of liquor was not one; and as drinking;
forms an ingredient of nearly all forms of
dissipation, she finally came to the conclusion
that, as of old, his wandering, inconsistent
heart was starving after some new light of
female beauty. It is possible that at this
juncture she may have taken her cousin Wal
ter into confidence.
One • beautiful morning in July, Harry
seemed in no hurry to go to town. He lin
gered rending his newspaper after breakfast
till nearly nine o'clock, and then dressing
himself carefully in his handsomest suit,
carelessly bade his wife good morning, and
strolled leisurely up the road instead of going
down it, to his place of business. The quick
perception of his wife had noticed a strange
quietude in his manner all the morning, and
she smiled a quiet smile to herself, as she
stood before the mirror in her own room, ar
raying herself in her most becoming walking
costume; for Mrs. Harry Vane was going
out, too.
She fitted a dainty pair of boots to her
pretty foot, and tightened the fastenings of
her sweetest pair of kid gloves, put on her
most bewitching bonnet, and then took the
last glance in the mirror to assure herself
that there wasn't a sweeter or more captiva
ting little woman than Mrs. Harry Vane.—
" He has good taste, at any rate," she solilo
quized, "and that is one consolation." But
the little, half sigh which closed the sen
tence intimated that it wasn't so very con
soling after all.
After her own toilet was completed, baby
was dressed in his richest and most spotless
robes, and Mary was entrusted with the pre
cious charge, and bid to follow her mistress.
Down the road tripped the little lady, taking
the shortest way to the river side. There
lay the steamer, with flags flying and whistle
blowing, just ready to convey a party of
happy excursionists down the river. Mrs.
Harry Vane tripped lightly over the pier, fol
lowed by Mary and baby, and the next mo
ment the gallant steamer with its holiday
company, was fairly under way. Mrs. Vane
walked leisurely to the fore part of the ves
sel, and there, apparently very much to her
surprise, discovered Mr. V. sitting in most
attentive proximity to a handsome and showy
young lady, who was evidently quite the
slave of Mr. Vane's fascinations.
" Why, good morning, Harry 1 ." exclaimed
Mrs. Vane, in her sweetest and most cordial
tones ; "this is, indeed, a delightful surprise.
I had not anticipated your company. After
you left home, I .happened to notice the ad
vertisement of the excursion, and baby seem
ed so ailing lately, that I thought it might
do him good to take an excursion ; so I
dressed myself as quickly as possible, and .
hurried down here.'
What could Mr. Harry Vane say in reply
to this most amiable, wife-like greeting?—
Mrs. Vane was not at a loss, however, to fill
up the pause which . his hesitation occasion
ed.
" That lady is a friend of yours, I presume
—introduce me to her, Harry, said she, turn
ing to the, lady. "Mr. Vane's circle of
friends previous to our marriage, was so
very extensive, that I have not even yet
made the acquaintance of all of them. I
hope, however, to know them all in the
course of time r for nothing gives me greater
pleasure than to entertain Harry's friends.—
Your name is ? I didn't quite under
stand,"
" Miss Wentworth," replied the lady, bow
ing stiffly.
HUNTINGDON, PA., SEPTEMBER 15, 1858.
-PERSEVERE.-
"Ah I yes, Miss Wentworth," said Mrs.
Vane, complacently. "I do not recollect of
hearing Harry speak of you: but it is all
the same; my memory is very treacherous;
and, indeed, he might have mentioned your
name, casually, you know, a dozen times,
and still I might have forgotten it. But
bless me I where is the baby ? Mary come
here."
Mary answered the call, and placed the
blue-eyed little wonder in the arms of its de
lighted mamma.
" Mamma's precious little darling! Was
it warm 2—so it was. Mamma will take off
its hat—so she will. There—does it see its
papa ?—there, so it does, and knows him,
too—precious angel ! See! Miss Wentworth,
see how well the little darling knows its
father, and it isn't four months old, yet."—
And Mrs. Vane danced the chubby, red
faced little thing, up and down in Mr.
Vane's face and asked, enthusiastically,
"Didn't Miss Wentworth think he was just
the image of his 'pa ?' "
There were several of Harry's acquaint
ances on board, by whom the affair was
thoroughly understood ; and it was not long
until the story passed from lip to lip, and
smiles and titters and jokes, at poor Harry's
expense, circulated in every direction. He
excused himself as speedily as possible from
the society of the ladies, and walked moodily
to. the other end of the boat, and there stood
contemplating what he should do to extricate
himself from this dilemma.
" What the deuce am I to do ?" he solilo
quized. To blow out at her, would only
raise a row and circulate the story; and I
can't get rid of her, for the boat won't put
back, I suppose, on my account. Gad ! if
the water wasn't so hot, I'd drown myself.—
To bring that red-faced little imp with her, too!
It is a pretty child enough, though; of course
it couldn't be anything else, and be my child;
she looks deuced pretty herself, too, to-day.
She's a vast deal prettier than Madge Went
worth ever was—the baggage ! If I ever
get safe out of this scrape, catch me risking'
my reputation for another bold flirt like
her I"
Meanwhile, Miss Wentworth, who pos
sessed a deal of womanly tact in her way,
had overcome in a measure, the embarrass
ment of her first meeting with Mrs. Vane,
and had entered very affably into conversa
tion with her. The baby, as if determined
to do itg park wag as s w eet tempered as its
mamma, and cooed and laughed to the infi
nite delight of Miss Wentworth, who was,
or pretended to be, exceedingly fond of pets.
Mrs. Vane's amiability was perfectly irre
sistible, and when Mr. Vane returned, he
found •the two ladies on the best possible
terms.
When dinner was announced, Mrs. Vane
called Mary to take the baby, and rising ex
claimed, "Mr. Vane, give your arm to Miss
Wentworth," at the same time appropriating
the other to her own use, "and we will hur
ry in to dinner. This stiff breeze gives one
such an appetite !"
At dinner, Mrs. Vane's first attentions were
given to Miss Wentworth, and the least fail
ure upon the part of Mr. Vane (who to tell
the truth, was a little absent minded) to ob
serve the wants of that young lady, was rep
rimanded by Mrs. Vane.
"My dear, Miss Wentworth will take some
more fowl," said Mrs. Vane. "Harry dear,
help Miss Wentworth to some of those deli
cious peas. Miss Wentworth, allow me to
assist you to some of this sauce; I assure
you it is delicious."
After dinner, the two ladies, with the ba
by, retired to the ladies' cabin, and Harry
enjoyed an hour's immunity from the society
of either. He retired aft to enjoy (!) his
Havana. Let us hope that its fragrance
served, in some measure to calm his troubled
mind.
It was nearly dark when the excursionists
returned, and Harry called a cab for the la
dies, and directed the driver to drive to his
own residence.
"Harry, my dear, how can you be so im
polite ?" said Mrs. Vane. "We must see
Miss Wentworth home first by all means.—
She has been complaining of fatigue, for the
last two hours, and I must protest against
her being driven a mile or two out of the
way upon my account."
Harry was obliged to aquiesce, and Mrs.
Vane had the satisfaction of leaving Miss
Wentworth at her own door, and bidding her
a most affectionate farewell, with the hope
that she had enjoyed the day, and would ex
perience no inconvenience from the fatigue
it had occasioned her.
Ten minutes later, Harry Vane was stretch
ing his weary limbs upon a sofa in his own
quiet parlor. Mrs. Vane bustled about and
prepared a most delicious tea for her loving
lord. At first his vexation betrayed him in
to a few unamiable remarks ; but the real
tenderness of Susie's manner, as she handed
him the smoking cup of Souchong upon the
longue, and soothed and petted away the
headache which oppressed him, silenced his
irritability, and won him back to good hu
mor.
That was the last of Harry Vane's wan
derings. The name of Miss Wentworth was
never mentioned in his house ; and, save his
penitent confession, (made that night with
his weary head lying upon her bosom, " Su
sie, I have wronged you : will you forgive
me?" to which her only answer was the kiss
of peace and trust, and a glance more elo
quent than any speech,) there was no allu
sion to his faults.
Susie is gray haired now, and her failing
strength is supported by the tenderness of
her grand-daughters ; and it may be that to
them, she sometimes repeats the story of the
WOMAN WHO WOULDN'T BE JEALOUS.
WORTII MAKES run M& .—Robert Burns,
on his way to Leith one morning, met a coun
try farmer. He shook him earnestly by the
hand, and stopped to converse awhile. A
young Edinburgh fop took the Poet •to task
for his want of taste. "Why,. you fantastic
gomeril,." said Burns, "It was not the great
coat, the scone bonnet, and the saundwr boot
hose I spoke to, but the man that was in them;
and the man, sir, for true worth, would weigh
down you and me, and ten more such any day."
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Relation of Masters and .Apprentices.
We have often thought that if masters pro
perly comprehended the relation they sustain
to their apprentices and employees, their pe
cuniary interest would not only be greatly
enchanted, but that a positive good would be
rendered to every branch of industry in which
they are engaged, as well through a more
harmonious concert of action as a superior
social elevation given to the worthy class un
der them. To our view, this relation is some
what analogous to that existing between pa
rents and children, so far as the development
of their minds and the instilment of sound
principles of morality and industry, the en
couragement of skill in manipulation, and the
attainment of knowledge are concerned.—
We believe the observation of a celebrated
master, thatno one is born without capacity for
some branch of industry, is a just one, and
that when stupidity exists it is nothing else
but neglect of proper discipline and education
in the youth of the person thus unfortunately
deficient. To establish this fact it needs no
fresh arguments of ours to show how ex
tremely ductile, how capable of government
and restraint, and how susceptible of instruc
tion human nature is, when approached in
the proper spirit of kindness, dignity, and
respect, which stimulates zeal and ambition,
and produces a corresponding return.
The first duty of a master should be to
present in himself an example for imitation
in the elements of industry, morality, system
and the other attributes which constitute a
superior mechanic or workman. There are
many apprentices who have so much of the
spirit of self-reliance and genius that this ex
ample is not essentially necessary ; but if we
pursue the reflection, and for the certainty of
the rule consider (what no man can fail to
observe) the effect the characters of others of
a superior rank have upon those immediate
ly connected with them, it will be obvious to
all that the masters, in a great measure, im
presses the inferior with the prominent traits
of his character. They should moreover, ob
serve and study the disposition and minds of
their apprentices, with a view of conciliating
their regard and confidence, and through
this means establish a free and familiar in
tercourse, and render the task of instruction
and development more simple and easy: As
the apprentices advance in knowledge and
skill, suitable evidences of appreciation and
encouragement should be given them. This
'will stimulate their ambition and exertion,
and create among them a worthy spirit of
emulation.
Where the character of an apprentice is
such as to require a tight rein upon his.ac
tions, and the deprivation of privileges; and
other suitable punishments, for ildeness and
misconduct, care should be observed that
these curbs and punishments do not descend
into such acts of tyranny as will destroy the
spirit and ambition of the youth, and render
him obstinate, unruly, and beyond all future
influences of excellence and good. Besides
a thorough instruction in his trade or profes
sion, and a sound and healthy education to
otherwise render him fit for his social posi
tion in life, it should be the aim of masters to
instil into his pupil all the scientific and
other knowledge possible, even should such
knowledge have no direct bearing upon the
business or trade in which he is engaged.—
Such acts of interest, kindness, and confi
dence as these, and others of a correspond
ing character, cannot fail to produce the
most marked beneficial results upon the in
terests of the master, and the happiness and
condition of the grateful apprentice.
" There is in every human being a craving
for home-felt pleasures, a desire for daily
communion and interchange of affection with
some kindred spirit, who feels more interest
ed in our thoughts and feelings than all the
world beside, and for this, the wide, wide
Universe offers no substitute ;" yet how few
are fitted, by education, habits, and princi
ples, to enjoy connubial happiness !—and
how many do not consider that in choosing
a partner for life, rational and durable en
joyment can only be expected, with a person
of suitable age, similarity of tastes and abil
ities ; of virtuous principles, and good under
standing. They are captivated with a pretty
face, agreeable person, and winning manners,
or what is equally common in modern days,
with the shining qualities of the purse; ten
der looks, and tales of first love, (which is
often only first folly,) are exchanged they
fancy they are in love, and rush into matri
mony, like the horse into battle, and find out,
when it is too late, that the silken bands of
wedlock are iron bands, fastened with arrows
of steel, that gives the sharpest wound ! Af
ter a short acquaintance, they become weary
of each other. The force of beauty and pas
sion is exhausted, and glittering gold appears
like miry clay, but a clog to the enjoyments
of those who travel on this perilous road to
conjugal felicity.
HAPPINESS, TRUE AND FALSE.—True hap
piness is of a retired nature and an enemy to
pomp and noise ; it arises, in the first place,
from the enjoyment of one's self and in the
next, from the friendship and conversation of
a few select companions ; it loves shade and
solitude, and naturally haunts groves, and
fountains, fields, and meadows ; in short, it
feels everything it wants within itself, and
receives no addition from multitudes of wit
nesses and spectators. On the contrary, false
happiness loves to be in a crowd, and draw
the eyes of the world upon her. She does
not receive any satisfaction from the applauses
which she gives herself, but from the admi
ration which she raises in others. She flour
ishes in courts and palaces, theatres and as
semblies, and has no existence but when she
is looked upon.—Addison.
Addison has left on record the follow
ing important sentence :—"Two persons who
have chosen each other out of all the species,
with the design to be each other's mutual
comfort and entertainment, have, in. that
very action, bound themselves to be good
humored, affable, joyful, forgiving, and pa
tient, with respect to each other's frailties
and imperfections, to the end of their lives."
Editor and Proprietor.
NO, 12.
How True !
Beautify your Home.
Every man should do his best to own a
home. The first money he can spare ought
to be invested in a dwelling, where his family
can live permanently. Viewed as a matter
of economy, this is important, not only be
-1 cause he can ordinarily build more cheaply
I than he can rent, but because of the expense
caused by frequent change of residence. A
man who early in life builds a home for him
self -and family, will save some-thousands of
dollars in the course of twenty years, beside's
avoiding the inconvenience and trouble of re
, 'novels. . Apart from this, there is something
agreeable to our better nature in having a
home that we can all call our own. It is a
form of property that is more than property.
It speaks to the heart, enlists the sentiments
and enobles the possessor. The associations
that spring up around it, as the birthplace of
children,—as the scene of life's holiest emo
tions—as the sanctuary where the spirit cher
, ishes its purest thoughts, are such as all.
value; and whenever their influence is exert
ed, the moral . sensibilities are improved and
exalted. The greater part of our happiness
in this world is found at home ; but how few
recollect that the happiness of to-day is...in
creased by the place where we were happy
on yesterday, and that, insensibly, scenes and
circumstances gather up a store of blessed
ness for the weary hours of the future ! On
this account we should do all in our power
to make home attractive. Not only should
we cultivate such tempers as serve to render
its intercourse amiable and affectionate, but
we should strive to adorn it with charms
which good sense:and refinement so easily
impart to it. We say easily, for there are
persons who think that a home-cannot be
beautified without a considerable outlay of
money. Such people are in error. It costs
tittle to have a neat flower garden, and to
surround your dwelling with simple beaigies
which delight the eye far more than expen
sive objects. If you will let the sunshine
and the dew adorn your yard, they will do
more for you than any artist. Nature de
lights in beauty. She loves to brighten the
landscape and make it agreeable to the eye.
She hangs the ivy around the ruin, and over
the stump of a withered tree twines the
graceful vine. A thousand arts she practises
to animate the senses and please the mind.
Follow her example, and do for yourself what
she is always laboring to do for you. Beauty
is a divine instrumentality. It is one of God's
chosen forms of power. We never see crea
tive energy without something beyond mere
existence, and hence the whole universe is a
teacher and ipspirer of beauty. Every man
was born to be an artist, so far as the appre
ciatiorrand enjoyment of beauty are concern
ed, and he robs himself of one of the pre
cious gifts of his being if he fails to fulfil;
this beneficent purpose of his creation,
The Young Man's Leisure.
Young Man ! after the duties of the day
are over, how do you spend your evenings ?
When business is dull, and leaves at your
disposal many unoccupied hours, what dis
position do you make of them ? I have
known, and now know, many young men,
who, if they devoted to any scientific,. or lit
erary, or professional pursuits, the time they
spend in games of chance, and lounging in
bed, might rise to any eminence. You have
all icad of the sexton's son, who became a
fine astronomer, by spending a short time
every evening in gazing at the stars,. after
ringing the bell for nine o'clock. Sir'
limn Phipps, who, at the age of forty-five
had attained the order of knighthood, and
the office of High Sheriff of New England,
and Governor of , Massachusetts,. learned to
read and write after his eighteenth year, of
a ship carpenter in Boston. William - Gifford-,
the great editor of the Quarterly, was an ap
prentice to a shoemaker, and spent his leisure
hours in study. And because he•had neither
pen nor paper, slate nor pencil', he wrought
out his problems on• smooth leather with a
blunt awl.
David Rittenhouse; the American astrono
mer, when a plow-boy, was- observed to have
covered his plow and fences with figures and
calculations. James Ferguson, the great
Scotch astronomer, learned to- read by him
self, and mastered the elements of astronomy
while a shepherd's boy iu the fields.by night.
And perhaps, it is not too much to say, that
if -the hours wasted in idle company,. in vain
conversation at the tavern, were only spent
in the pursuit of useful knowledge,. the dull
est apprentice in any of our shops might be
come an intelligent member of society, and
a fit person for most of our civil offices. By
such a course, the rough covering of many a
youth is laid aside; and their ideas, instead
of being confined to local subjects and tech
nicalities, might range the wide - fields of cre
ation; and other stars from among the young
men of this city, might be added to the list
of worthies that are gilding our country with
bright yet mellow light.—Rev. Dr. Murray.
RETURN SOON.—Wauderer from your child
hood's home, almost lost in the meshes of a
busy world, do you ever recall the words that
fell upon your listening ear as you bade adieu
to the loved ones that lingered around at the
parting, "return soon 1"
Do you feel that the yearning spirit of
these syllables is nightly embodied in a pray
er for you 1 And will you return.? The boy
that issued from the old farm gate a few years
ago, untried, full of hope,. sanguine for the
future, will never return.
That which he has become will go back
perhaps for a season. But he carries with
him the marks of a contact with "life," in
which he either defeats or is defeated.
The hopes he entertained then, are either
subdued by experiences, or driven away for
ever ; the reward he sought nlay have eluded
his grasp—the sanguine temperament have
crrown more calculating.
These changes are perceived by, those who
welcome him, yet they are regarded as the
development of time rather than an alteration
of their loved one. Return soon, 'tis whis
peredinto the ear of the lover ; as he presses
in sadness the lips that utter it. It is the
wish predominating in the heart of those who
remain, coined into words. .
TOE DIFFERENCE.—When a rakish youth
goes astray, friends gather round him in or
der to restore him to the path of virtue.—
Gentleness and kindness are lavished upon
him, to win him back to innocence and
peace. No one would suspect that he had
ever sinned. But, when a poor, confiding
girl is betrayed, she receives the brand of so
ciety, and is henceforth driven from the path
of virtue. The betrayer is honored, respect
ed and esteemed, but his ruined, heart-broken
victim knows that there is no peace for her
this side of the grave. Society has no help
ing hand for her, no smile of peace, no voice
of forgiveness. These are earthly moralities;
they are unknown to Heaven. There is deep
wrong in them, and fearful are the conse
quences.
X;i?iY-A modern tourist calls the Niagara
"the prido of rivers." The pride certainly
has a tremendous fall.