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" Thick Darkness covers the Earth,
And Gross Darkness the People."
COUNTRY MERCHANTS and all
Others, will take Notice! that they can supply them
selves, in any quantities, with
JONES' FAR-FAMED PATENT
NON-EXPLOSIVE KEROSENE OR COAL OIL LAMPS,
at the Wholesale and Retail Head-Quarters,
38 South Second Street 38.
PHILADELPHIA.
The only place where exclusive Agencies can be obtain
ed for the States of Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Dela
ware.
These Lamps give a light equal in intensity of flame, and
Similar in appearance to Gas, and are claimed to be supe
rior to all other portable lights, now in use. No fear of
Explosion—No offensive odor—No smoke—Very easily
trimmed—As easily regulated as a Gas Light—Can be
adapted to all purposes—And better than all for a poor
man-50 per cent cheaper than any other portable light,
now in common use.
SOLE AGENT, ALSO, FOR
KNAPP'S PATENT ROSIN AND COAL OIL LAMP.
.fa).- Lamps, Oils, Wicks, Shades, and every article in the
line. S. E. SOUTHLAND, Agent.
No. 38, South Second street, Mira.
September 8,1855.-2 m.
TIANCY FURS,
FOR LADIES AND CHILDREN.
FAREIRA & Co., No. 818, (new N 0..) MARKF.T Street,
above Eighth, PHILADELPUIA—Importers, Manufacturers
and Dealers in FANCY FURS, for Ladies and Children;
also, Gent's Furs, Fur Collars, and Gloves. The number
of years that we have been engaged in the Fur business.
and the general character of our Furs, both for quality and
price, is so generally known throughout the Country, that
we think it is not necessary for us to say anything more
than that we have now opened our assortment of FURS,
for the Fall and Winter Sales, of the largest and moSt
beautiful assortment that we have ever offered before to
the public. Our Furs have all been Imported during the
present season, when money was scarce and Furs much
lower than at the present time, and have been manufac
tured by the most competent workmen; we are therefore
determined to sell them at such prices as will continue to
give us the reputation we have born for years, that is to
sell a good article for a very email profit.
Storekeepers will do well to give us a call. as they will
find the largest assortment, by far, to select from in the
city, and at manufacturers prices.
JOHN FAREIRA & CO"
21"0. 818, Market Street, above Sth, Phiro.
September 15, 1855.-4 m.
GREAT EXCITEMENT
AT THE
MAMMOTH STORE!!
J. BRICKER has returned from the East with a tremen
dous Stock of Goods. They are upon the shelves in his
New Rooms, ou Hill street, near WAteer's Hotel, ready for
customers.
His Stock consists of every variety of
LADIES' DRESS GOODS,
DRY GOODS, GENERALLY,
GROCERIES AND QUEENSWARE,
HARDWARE AND GLASSWARE.
CROCKERY AND CEDARWARE,
BOOTS AND SHOES,
HATS AND CAPS,
And everything to be found iu the most extensive store,.
His Stock is New and of the Best, and the public are in
vited to call and examine, free of charge.
F OR EVERYBODY
TRY TUF NEW STORE,
On Hill Street opposite Miles & Dorris' Office
Tll r, BEST
SUGAR and MOLASSES.
COFFEE, TEA. and CUOCOLATE,
FLOUR, FISH, SALT and VINEGAR,
CONFECTIONERIES, CIGARS and TOBACCO,
SPICES OF TIIE BEST, AND ALL KINDS,
and every other article usually found in a Grocery Store
ALSO— Drugs, Chemicals, Dye Stuffs,
Paints, Varnishes, Oils and Spts. Turpentine,
Fluid, Alcohol, Glass and Putty,
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 mid examine for
themselves and learn my prices
Iluntingdon, 'May 25, 1855.
y BRICKER'S
BRICKER'S
J. BRICKER'S
MAMMOTH STORE
ICIAMMOT II STORE
3IAMMOTII STORE
IS TILE PLACE
IS THE PLACE
1S TILE PLACE
FOR DRY GOODS, HARDWARE, &c
FOR, DRY GOODS, HARDWARE, Sc
FOR DRY GOODS, HARDWARE, &c
STOVES STOVES STOVES!
INDUSTRIAL STOVE STOVE WORKS, No. 33, 111 14 -, 0-1
North Secose Street, opposite Christ Church, ---
Pitmaimuunt.. The subscriber respectfully in
forms his friends and the public generally that he has
taken the Store, at _NO. 33, North Second Street, where he
µ•ill be pleased to sec his old customers and friends.
Ile has now on hand a splendid assortment of PARLOR,
BALL, OFFICE, STORE and COOKING STOVES, of the
latest and most'approved kinds, at wholesale and retail.
WM. C. NEMAN,
Yh. 33, North Second St., Phila.
N.B.—Your particular attention is invited to MEGEE'S
PAT ENT GAS BURNING WARMING and VENTILATING
STOVES, for Parlors, Olilces, Stores, halls, Cars, Sm., which
for economy, purety of air, and ease of management has
no equal. W. C. N.
Odd Castings for all binds of Stores, on hand.
September 15, 1558.-3 in.
HUNTINGDON HOTEL.
The subscriber respectfully announces to his friends
and the public generally, that he has leased that old al.t_
well established TAVERN STAND, known as the
Huntingdon House,, on the corner of Hill and
Charles Street, in the Borough of Huntingdon.— g
H H n..
Ile has fitted up the ouseln such a style as to .
- render it very comfortable fur lodging Strangers and Tray
elers.
HIS TABLE will always be stored with the best the sea
son can afford, to suit the tastes and appetites of his guests.
HIS BAR will always be filled with Choice Liquors, and
HIS STABLE always attended by careful and attentive
Ostlers.
42,ap- lie hopes by strict attention to business and a spirit
of accommodation, to merit and receive a liberal share of
public patronage.
May 12, 1858—ly
_LALLEX.ANDRIA FOUNDRY !
The Alexandria Foundry has been
bought by R. C. McGILL, and is in blast,
and have all kinds of Castings, Stoves, Ma- vrnttl.;
chines, Plows, Kettles, &c., &c., which he mir.sorr
will sell at the lowest prices. All kinds q"-IF - 7
of Country Produce and old Metal taken in exchange for
Castings. at market prices.
April 7, 1858,
' - COUNTRY DEALERS can
11 4 :,..0nt, buy CLOUTING from me in Huntingdon at
WHOLESALE as cheap as they can in the
cities, as 1 have a wholesale store in Philadelphia.
Huntingdon, April 14, 1858. IL ROMAN.
"VARNISH ! VARNISH - ! !
ALL KINDS, warranted good, for sale at
BROWN'S Hardware Store,
Huntingdon, Pa,
April 28, 1858-t.f.
LADIES, ATTENTION I--My assort
ment of beautiful dress goods is now open, and ready
for Inspection. Every article of dress you may desire, can
be found at my store. D. P. GWIN.
IiARDWARE !
A Large Stock, just received, and for sale at
BRICKER'S MAMMOTH STORE
91HE MAMMOTH STORE
Is the place for Latest Styles of Ladies' Dress Goods
RRICKER'S Mammoth Store is the
ejr • place to get the we rth of your money, in Dry Goods,
Hardware, Groceries, &c., &c., &c.
-DOUGLASS & SHERWOOD'S Pat
ent Extension Skirts, fur sale only by
EIMER & McMURTRIE.
WHEAT!
For sale at
$1 50
75
50
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XIV.
L I J) IO I 4I
JOHN VVOLFE'S RICH wie.ti.
I was passing Wolfe's store the other day,
with a brother book-keeper, when we noticed
a very neat carriage stop at his store, and
one of the prettiest women in New York, get
out of it.
" There," said my companion, "is John
Wolfe's rich wife. What luck some fellows
have in this world 1 Born rich themselves,
they continually gather riches, while we poor
fellows never seem to get rid of the blamed
wooden spoon, that Dame Fortune stuck into
our unfortunate mouths when we came into
the blessed world. But, rich or poor, hang
me if I would hunt up a rich wife, any how.
It is rather a mean business to be marrying
a woman for her money."
" Well, my good fellow," said I; "you hap
pen to be wide of the mark this time. I
know how John Wolfe got his rich wife, and
can assure you that he did not marry her for
her money; and, moreover, did not dream of
ever getting one cent with her."
" Ay," said be Sneeringly, "all those rich
fellows pretend that they don't care anything
about it; but don't think I am quite so green
as to believe any such stuff as that. Facts
speak louder than words, and we all know
that John Wolfe has a rich wife."
" Yes," I replied, "and pretty as rich, and
as good as pretty, and loving as good."
" 0, ho!" he exclaimed, "I guess you must
have fallen in love with her ; rather a pity
you were married so long ago; you might
have cut out John, and got a rich wife your
self."
S. S. S3IITIE
" Not a bit of it," said I; "but you shall
hear the whole story if you will come to my
house to-night ; and while we have our
smoke on the piazza, I'll see if I cannot wipe
some of the cynic out of your composition."
" Agreed," said he, "I'll be with you after
supper."
About five years ago, John Wolfe's book
keeper married a nice, pretty little girl, up
in his native village, in Vermont, brought
her down to New York, and started house
keeping in a very snug cottage, in Brooklyn.
I was invited to the house-warming, and a
more delightful evening does not often check
er the dull business of life than we passed.
There were not over a dozen of us, male and
female ; but we were all old cronies, and in
timate enough to be as free and pleasant
together, as we would be at home.
The party broke up at twelve, and Mrs.
Dick and myself trotted home, as satisfied
with our evening's enjoyment as need be.
Just one week after that, my wife told me,
with tears in her eyes, that John IVolfe's
book-keeper had been quite unwell for two
days past, and not• an hour before, had sud
denly expired, while sitting by the fireside,
with scarcely a spasm or a pang. A disease
of the heart had carried him off thus unex
pectedly, and his wife was in terrible afflic
tion.
I did not lose a moment in running around
to his house, and offering what little sympa
thy and assistance it was in my power to be
stow ; and, of course, took upon myself to
do whatever was necessary upon so sad an
occasion. The young widow was terribly
cut down, and, at such a distance from her
own friends and relatives, seemed more than
usually forlorn. We did all we could to re
lieve her afflictions, and, after the funeral
had taken place, succeeded in calming her
grief to small extent.
I then took the liberty of inquiring a little
into her affairs, and discovered that my poor
friend, with a carelessness which was too
characteristic of him, had involved himself
considerably in debt, to furnish his house for
his young wife's comfort, having purchased
every particle of their household goods upon
credit. This matter I undertook to arrange
for her; and by going round among the va
rious creditors, persuaded the most of them
to take their goods back by my paying them
a small per contage for their trouble in pack
ing and fixing. This, however, required the
outlay of a couple of hundred dollars ; the
funeral expenses were one hundred and fifty
more, and she had not twenty dollars in the
world, towards it.
The next morning, therefore, saw ine at
John %Volfe's store ; he had but just return
ed from a business tour, South, and was
quite shocked to hear of his book-keeper's
sudden death. I briefly related to him the
situation in which the young wife had been
P. MeATEER
It. C. McGILL
D. P. GWIN'S
s.e.tt.ct Vortr.
BY MRS. M. J. BEVOIDGE
I saw a youthful mother,
Once on a summer's day,
Set down a smiling infant
To watch its frolic play;
It gambols on the flowers
That decked the carpet o'er,
And seemed with childish wonder,
Each object to explore.
A something on the instant
Its glad career arrests,
And earnestly it gazes where
A golden sunbeam rests;
While on the new-found glory
It fixed its wondering eyes,
And trustingly reached forth its hand
To seize the glittering prize.
And now its tiny fingers clasp
The treasure rich and rare,
Which in-its baby innocence
It surely thought was there
But, ah ! that hand uncloses,
And to its earnest gaze
Reveals no gem of beauty—
No bright imprisoned rays I
And then•the first of many tears
Fell on the cherub face—
The first sad disappointment
In life's uncertain race!
And thus it has been with us all,
Who its dark game has played—
We've sought to r grasp the sunshine,
And only found the shade.
itittt 1-trrg.
left, and the arrangements I had made with
creditors, and awaited his answer.
" Call as you go home this evening," said
he, "and I will attend to it. lam very busy
now."
When I called in the evening, he handed
me a letter for the widow, and, begging me
to let him know if he could be of any service
in the future, he started for home, and I did
likewise.
I left the letter with the widow as I went
home, and after supper, Mrs. Dick and my
self walked over to see her, a little curious, I
must say, to know- the contents of John
Wolfe's letter.
I confess I had never entertained a very
favorable opinion of John Wolfe ; he had
always seemed to me, overbearing and proud,
and looked, I thought, as many young men
do, who have never known anything of
making a living for themselves, and are very
apt to think that they are made out of rather
superior stuff to the rest of us, and must be
looked up to and smiled upon by all the rest
of the world.
But I tell you I got a new sight into the
human heart when I read that letter. It was
without exception, the kindest, most feeling,
most consoling letter I ever read—so full
of deep sympathy for her sudden loss, so
overflowing with expressions of esteem and
regard for her husband, and winding up with
sentiments, so divine and heavenly a trust in
an overruling Providence, and the sweet con
solation of religion, that I declare I could
scarcaly think the letter could have emana
ted from a man, so wholly engrossed in him
self, as he always seemed to be. The letter,
moreover, contained his indvidual check for
one thousand dollars, to meet, he said, the ex
penses incidental to so sudden and unexpect
ed a bereavement.
" Well, John Wolfe," said I, "after this I
will never again judge a man from appear
ances."
" I should like to know," said my cynical
friend, interrupting me, "what this has got to
do with John Wolfe's rich wife ?"
" Certainly," said I, "we shall probably
come to all that in the course of time. Here,
take another cigar, and don't be impatient."
The young widow returned to her friends,
in Vermont, and what followed, although I
did. not get acquainted with the facts until a
very short time ago, I shall proceed to tell
you in the order they occurred.
Within a week or so after her arrival at
her old home, John Wolfe received a letter
from her father, returning him the thousand
dollars so kindly advanced to his daughter,
with a prcifugion of Thanks for his kindnes
to his bereaved child, and expressing a strong,
desire to be able to repay it by anv service 1
it might be in his power to perform in re
turn.
But there' was another enclosure, which
John, it seems, thought a great deal more
about, than the old man's and the thousand
dollars, and this was a letter from the young
widow herself, so brimful of gratitude that
he began to be almost ashamed to think that
he had done so little for so rich a return, and
was rather sorry that he had not found time
to have gone personally to comfort her in her
sore affliction.
I do not know exactly how it came about,
but one letter brought on another, until a
pretty regular correspondence sprang up be
tween them. It happened, also, that the
widow's father who was a retired lawyer, liv
ing on the frugal savings of a frugal life,
was able to confer a very considerable favor
on John Wolfe's house, by saving them from
a severe loss by a dishonest customer, who
had suddenly taken it into his head, after a
lifetime of honesty to turn rogue, sell his
goods to a cash customer who presented him
self just at the right time, and ship off to
California with the proceeds.
A friend of the old lawyer was employed
to draw up the bill of sale, who 'mentioned
to him casually, that so and so was selling
out and going to the new land of promise;
and knowing that this individual was large
ly indebted to Wolfe's house, he quietly slip
ped himself off to New York, by the first
stage, without mentioning to any one but his
wife and daughter, where he was going.—
Arrived in New York, he introduced himself,
personally to John Wolfe, and then proceed
ed to inform him of the important business
which brought him to the city. As the ras
cal creditor was expected to take the next
California steamer, no time was lost in get
ting matters fixed, and just as the gentleman
was depositing himself, carpet-bag and plun
der, on board the steamer for Aspinwall, he
found himself rather unexpectedly obliged to
relinquish his journey and pay a visit to
John Wolfe's store, where, after paying over
his full indebtedness, he was released only to
be carefully attended to by the rest of his
rather urgent creditors.
The whole affair proved a most successful
one, and highly creditable to all parties con
cerned, but most especially to the young wid
ow's father.
" You see, Mr. Cynic," said I, addressing
my friend, "how one courtesy begets anoth
er 1"
For all the important service, the old law
yer would only except his expenses from
home and back—said the jaunt had been Worth
something handsome to him in the excite
ment and life it had given to his stagnant
blood, would not take a cent in cash on any
account. John Wolfe managed, however, to
be upsides with him for all that. The old
gentleman had hardly been home a week
when a package arrived by express from
New York, duly addressed to his wife, which,
upon being opened, disclosed a very hand
some silver tea-service, with an accompany
ing letter begging her acceptance of the same,
as a mark of respect and distinguished con
sideration for important and disinterested ser
vices rendered to sundry firms whose names
were all attached, headed, of course, by the
respected and respectable house of Wolfe,
Waterhouse & Co.
Things went on so for about two years, per
haps a letter passing between the parties
about once a . month, and John Wolfe and the
young widow almost began courting by letter,
without either one having yet seen the other.
1..,..:.:!',....f... ~...„...: :4.1
'...:.'..... ::....:-.....
i f.....'.,. : . ~.r.F..,,,.: 2, .
. ..:.,....?,:- -
)
HUNTINGDON, PA., OCTOBER 13, 1858,
.--PERSEVERE.-
At last, one warm July, business being some
what slack, John Wolfe took a trip to the
White Mountains for a week or two, and
while there, became acquainted, as traveling
bachelors often will, with a party of five
young folks—three ladies and two gentlemen.
The two eldest couples were men and wives,
not a . very long time past the honeymoon ;
the third lady was called cousin Jane, and
like many other cousins we can all remem
ber, was about one of the liveliest, most piq
uaint little creatures you ever saw. Dark,
sparkling eyes that seemed to dance and
laugh all the time above the most blooming
cheeks, and darlingest little nose, and sweet
est mouth, and roundest chin that ever be
longed to a bewitching woman.
John was quite smitten ; he danced with
her at the evening ball ; he rode with her up
the steep mountain paths; he went fishing
for brook trout, and nothing delighted him
more than, when they came into a deeper
pool or more rugged path than common, to
lift_the little thing, in his great pawny arms,
and carry her like a child.
For three days and nights, John Wolfe was
in a paradise ; on the fourth morning he woke
up and found his happiness gone; a letter
had been left on his dressing table, stating
that the Pinkertons—the name of his new
friends—had been obliged to depart by the
stage, at an early hour in the moring, having
received news of sudden illness in their fami
ly; should be most happy to renew acquain
tance with him at a future day, &c. &c.
Our friend John had a great mind to start
off at once for New York, perfectly disgusted
with the whole world; but as one of his pur
poses in coming East, was to pay a long
promised and often desired visit to the young
widow's family in Vermont, he felt rather
ashamed to back out of his determination,
although, all of a sudden, the long cherished
wish to make her personal acquaintance had
vanished, for a certain Jane Pinkerton, as he
called her, had played the very dickens with
the platonic affection he had been secretly
nourishing for the last two years.
"I declare, Dick," said my friend Cynic,
"your story is getting to be rather a long
winded, affair, for I have got to the end of my
third cigar, and you have hardly commenced
the story."
"Well," said I, "if you will only have pa
tience a little longer, you will find that I have
nearly got to the end of it."
John Wolfe was received with high grati
fication by the old liwyer and his wife, when
Ihe presented himself at their house. If he
!,!.0.41d beero•the President himself, they could
scarcely have been prouder to receive him as
a guest, than they were to welcome John
Wolfe, The daughter, however, was absent
when he arrived, but a message was sent off
to her by the old lady, and it was not long
before she made her appearance.
You may guess the surprise of our friend
John, when the young widow arrived, for
there stood welcoming him, with her danc
ing oyes and beaming smile, no other than
his fairy friend of the White Mountains,
Jane Pinkerton, as he had called her, because
she was with her friends the Pinkertons, and
she, the laughing puss, although she knew by
his name well enough who he was, had never
revealed herself to him as his loving corres
pondent, Jane Willoughby. The women na
turally love a little mystery, and so she had
kept her own secret, in order to have the
pleasure of surprising him when he should
visit her father's house according to promise.
John Wolfe was a happy man that evening,
as he sat at tea, where the handsome silver
service was duly displayed in his honor ; and
the young widow was as happy as he was, I
guess, and the father and mother were run
ning over with gratified pride, as they did the
honors of their humble home to the young New
York merchant, who had shown himself such
a true gentleman in all their intercourse with
him.
A delightful evening was passed by all
parties; and when John Wolfe was ushered
by the old lady to the state bed-room, and had
laid himself between the whitest pair of
sheets that were ever bleached on Vermont
snow, he was so full of pleasant fancies and
joyous hopes, that he could not go to sleep
for hours. However, toward morning he
dozed off; and, as will happen at such times,
his day-dreams turned themselves into night
dreams, and he found himself again travel
ing up the rugged paths of the White Moun
tains, with laughing Jane Pinkerton at hia:
side, joking and joying together, lifting her
sometimes over some rough obstacle in the
path, and then again fairly carrying her
across some big drift of snow which the sum
mer sun had not been able to penetrate near
enough to wake up; and so on and on, until
wearied out they stood to gaze upon the
magnificent prospect below and around them.
Suddenly, John thought he was on his knees
before her, pouring out a torrent of passion
ate words, declaring that life and hope, and
happiness dwelt only where, &c., &c., when,
before he could get an answer or know whether
the dear girl smiled or frowned, behold he
woke up. He was dreadfully mortified at
first, but presently recollecting where he was,
and seeing it was broad daylight, he jumps
out of bed, makes his morning ablutions, and
dresses himself in great haste, determined to
wait no longer for an answer than would take
him to find the object of his dream. Down
stairs he goes and into the parlor, she is not
there—looks into the garden, but does not see
her, when, suddenly bethinking such a nota
ble little dame might be a good housewife, he
starts for the kitchen—where, forsooth, he
finds her singing like a bird, elbow deep in
the bread trough, kneeding away for dear
life. John's heavy tread betrayed the intru
der—she looked up.
"Do you want to know how to make john
ny cake, Mr. Wolfe ?" she exclaimed merrily.
"No," said he, rather seriously, for, like a
man of deep and earnest feeling as he was,
he felt that he approached a crisis in his
life; "no, I do not—my johnny cake is mixed
already—l only want to know whether I can
get it."
The widow did not know what to make of
it. "Well," said she, "I do not know any
reason why you should not."
" That," replied John, 0 is what I want to
find out; and as you know, my- dear friend,
that two heads are better than one, I have
come to consult you about it."
So, to make the matter plain to her, he re
lated his dream to its termination.
"And now, Jane," said he, "I am hero for
an answer. Will you be my Johnny cake?
—Yes or no."
Jane had held her head down while be
spoke, blushing celestial rosy red—as is
quite proper, I believe, on such occasions.—
But Jane's was an earnest nature, likewise,
and all trifling and fun had vanished, when,
looking up to him, her bright eyes brimming
full of joyous tears, she gave him just one of
the sweetest kisses he ever had in his life.
" For ever and ever !" she cried ; "for ever
and ever, John, if you will have me."
Just at this instant, the old lady mother
stepped into the kitchen, and brought them
both to their senses by exclaiming—
" Why, Jane !"
" 0, mother, mother," said Jane, "I am so
happy !" and she left John to embrace her
mother. "lie asked me to be his wife,
mother ; give me joy—l am to be John
Wolfe's wife !"
There were jolly times, to be sure, in the
old lawyer's house, that week, and when
John Wolfe carried off his little wife to New
York, there was the merriest wedding party
in that village that ever drove dull care out
of doors.
"Well," said my friend Cynic, when I
paused, "now, with all your yarn, you have
never said one word about being rich. I
should rather think the old lawyer, her
father, must have been rather poor ; how
could his daughter be rich? and folks do say
that John Wolfe married a rich wife I"
"Yolks say a good many things, some
times, that they do not know anything
about," said L "John Wolfe's wife was not
worth ten dollars in money when he married
her ; but it so happened, that very soon after
her marriage, an aunt of hers, in Boston,
died suddenly, and as Jane had always been
a favorite of hers, she left her entire fortune
to her. I have heard say, it was an hundred
thousand dollars, but I don't know, and I
don't care ; but I do know, and John Wolfe
knows, too, that she, herself, is an ample for
tune for any man—and that, Cynic, is the
way John Wolfe got his wife."
Mr. L , having returned home from
a whalcing voyage, related the following
touching narrative :
" On the home voyage of one of our New
York and Liverpool packets, she being crowd
ed with emigrants, that awful scourge the
ship fever broke out. The carpenter of the
vessel, one of nature's noblemen, having on
board his little son, a boy of twelve summers,
was one of the first victims. His shipmates
sadly enclosed his body in his hammock and
having read over the burial services, and at
tached to his feet a grind stone for the pur
pose of sinking it, committed it to the em
brace of old ocean. The poor boy, with grief
tho loss of his natural protector, sprang
overboard, and before he could be rescued,
was beyond the reach of human aid. On the
day following the burial, a large shark was
noticed in the wake of the ship, and as it
was almost calm, the sailors asked permission
to catch it which was readily granted by the
Captain. Having procured a hook and at
tached a chain and line, and baited it with
pork, they cast it overboard, and soon had
the exciting pleasure of hooking the monster,
and with the aid of the windlass, hauled the
writhing mass on board. As it lay on the
deck in its death struggles, the sailors heard
a singular rumbling that seemed to proceed
from within the dying captive. Taking a
ship axe, they soon cut their way into the
now dead fish, and found to their surprise
thatit had swallowed earpenter,grindstone,and
boy, and that the former, who had only
swooned, had rigged up the grindstone, and
with the assistance of the boy to turn, was
just grinding his jack-knife to cut his way
out I "—Ex.
TIIE THREE GENERA.LS.-Of three military
chieftains—Washington, Bonaparte, and Wel
lington—Washington, by large odds, exhibi
ted the finest physical specimen of manhood.
Bonaparte possessed the largest brain, and
had the cerebral development. Washington
bad, however, three mental qualities, which
the Corsican had not, to wit ; calmness, per
severance and adhesiveness. Bonaparte, in
his youth, was a very handsome man; in his
age, he was decidedly passe; Washington,
from his earliest youth, to the hour of his
departure, had a benignant expression, in
which sincerity and goodness ever warred
for the mastery. Wellington's face was that
of a martinet, and had what is called a vine
gar aspect; it was stern, but it was not in
telligent in its general expression. Of the
three in maturity, 'Washington's face exhibi
ted more forcibly, "the action' of the mind
within." Napoleon, in youth, was slim in
form, rather meagre in outline; in age, quite
corpulent, or rather pursy, approaching the
obese. In height, Napoleon was about five
feet six inches, and, when not oil. horseback,
was rather insignificant looking, and would,
in a crowd, have passed unnoticed, but for
his marked intellectual characteristics.—
However, he was more presentable than
Wellington. Both, in physique, were inferi
or to Washington.
ENCOURAGING BENEVOLENCE.—Good deeds
are very fruitful ; for out of one good action
of ours, God produces a thousand, the har
vest whereof, is perpetual. Even the faith
ful actions of the old patriarchs, the constant
sufferings of ancient martyrs, live still, and
do good to all succession of ages by their ex
ample. For public actions of virtue, besides
that they are presently comfortable to the
doer, arc also exemplary to others; and as
they are more beneficial to others are more
crowned in us. If good deeds were utterly
barren and incommodious, I would seek after
them for the conscience of their own good
ness ; how much more shall I now be en
couraged to perform them for that they are
so profitable both to myself and others, and
to myself in others.—Hall.
Editor and Proprietor.
NO, 16,
Affecting Incident
How a Good Wife is to be Won.
Men naturally shrink from the attempt to
obtain companions who are their superiors;
but they will find th at really intelligent women,
who possess the most desirable qualities, are
uniformly modest, and hold their charms in
modest estimation. What such women most
admire in men is gallantry; not the go-Bantu'
of courts and fops, but boldness, courage, de
votion, decision, and refined civility. A nian'a
bearing wins ten superior women where - his
boots and brains win one. If a man stand be'
fore a woman with respect for himself and
fearlessness of her, his suit is half won. The
rest may safely be left to the parties most in
terested. Therefore, never be afraid of a wo
man. Women are the most harmless and
agreeable creatures in the world, to a man
who shows that he has got a man's soul in
him. If you have not got the spirit in you to
come up to a test like this, you have not got
that in you which most pleases a high-souled
woman, and you will be obliged to content
yourself with the simple girl, who, in a quiet
way, is endeavoring to attract and fasten you.
But don't be in a hurry about the matter.
Don't get into a feverish longing for marriage..
It isn't creditable to you. Especially don't
imagine that any disappointment in love,
which takes place before you are twenty-ono
years old, will be of any material damage to
you. The truth is, that before a man is twen
ty-five years old he does not know what ho
wants himself. So don't be in a hurry. The
more of a man you become, and the more man--
liness you become capable of exhibiting in
your association with women, the better wife
you will be able to obtain ; and one year's pos
session of the heart and hand of a really no
ble specimen of her sex is worth nine hundred
and ninety-nine year's possession of a sweet
creature with two ideas rn her head, and noth
ing new to say about either of them. "Bet
ter fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Ca
thay." So don't be in a hurry, I say again:-
You don't want a wife now, and you have not
the slightest idea of the kind of wife you will.
want by and by. Go into female society . if
you can find that which will improve you, but:
not otherwise. You can spend your time bet
ter. Seek the society of good men. That is
often more accessable to you than the other,•
and it is through that mostly that you , will ,
find your way to good female society..
How to Take Life.
Take life like a man. Take it just as
though it was—as it is—an earnest, vital es
sential affair. Take it just as though you
personally were born to the task of perform
ing a merry part in it—as though the world
waited for your coming. Take it as though'
it was a grand opportunity to do and achieve,
to carry forward great and good schemes•; to
help and cheer a suffering, weary, it may be,
heart-broken brother. The fact is, life is un
dervalued by a great majority of mankind.
It is not made half as great as should be the
case. Where is the man, or woman, who ac
complishes one-half of what might be done ?'
Who cannot look back upon opportunities
lost, plans unachieved, thoughts crushed, aspi
rations unfulfilled, and all caused from the
lack of the necessary possible effort? If we
knew better how to take and make the most
of life, it would be far greater than it is.—
Now and then a man stands aside from the
crowd, labors earnestly, steadfastly, confi
dently, and straightway becomes famous for
wisdom, intellect, skill, greatness of some
sort. The world wonders, admires, idolizes;.
and yet it only illustrates what each may do.
if he takes hold of life with a purpose. If
a man but say he will, and follow it• up, there
is nothing in reason he may not expect to
accomplish. There is no magic, no mir
acle, no secret to him who is brave in heart
and determined in spirit.
SPEAKING OUT n DREAMS.—A correspond
ent of the Richmond Dispatch tells the fol
lowing in a letter from ono of the Springs :
"An amusing incident occurred on the• cars
of the Virginia and Tennessee road, which
must be preserved in print. It is to good to
be lost. As the train entered the Big Tun
nel, near this place, in accordance with the
usual custom a lamp was lit. A servant girl,
accompanying her mistress, had sunk into a
profound slumber, but just as the lamp was
lit she awoke, and, half asleep, imagined her
self in the infernal regions. Frantic with
fright, she implored her Maker to have mer
cy on her, remarking, at the same time, "the
devil has got me at last." ller mistress, sit
ting on the seat in front of the terrified negro,
was deeply mortified, and called upon her,
" Mollie, don't make such a noise ; it is I, be
not afraid." ' The poor African immediately
,exclaimed, "Oh, missus, dat you; just what I
'spected ; I always thought if eber I got to do
bad place, I would see you dar." These.re
marks were 'uttered with such vehemence,
that not a word was lost, and the . whole
coach became convulsed with laughter.
A JUDGE'S CHARCE.—A. Western Judge re
cently delivered the following charge to the
jury :
"If the jury believe, from the evidence,
that the plaintiff and defendant were partners
in the grocery, and that the plaintiff bought
out the defendant and gave his note for the
interest, and the defendant paid for the note
by delivering to the plaintiff a cow, which he
warranted not breathy,' and the warranty
was broken by reason of the breachiness of
the cow, and he drove-the cow back, and ten
dered her to the defendant, but the defendant
refused to receive her, and the plaintiff took
her home again, and put a heavy yoke . or
poke upon her, to prevent her from
,lumping
the fence, by reason of the yoke or poke
broke her neck and died ; and if the jury
further believe that the defendant's interest
in the grocery was worth anything, the plain
tiff's note was worthless, and the cow good
for nothing, either for milk or beef, then the
jury must find out for themselves how they
will decide the case; for the court, if it un
derstands itself, and it thinks it does, don't
know how such a case should be decided.
A KNOCK-DOWN ARGITMENT.-At a recent
outbreak of argument, between two old fog
ies, not many miles from here, one of them
used the following language, in order to use
up, as the saying is, his burly antagonist.—
" Ladies an' gentlemen have you seen the
comic in the heavens, wrapped in all the ha
biliments of light and glory wading through
the unfathomed depths of choatical nothen
ness, and steering straight to, nobody knows
where, how he's making some faint hearts
quake with his dumb unmeanen arguments,
so it is with my opponent, using unmeanen
arguments, thinking he will scare you to
give the decision in his favor but he can't
cum it can he."
.ifO"'What kind of a fever has a man who
Is going to pay his creditors who live at a
distance? Billions Remittent?
Bar What is it that causes a cold, cures
cold, and pays the doctor? A draft.
El