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be addressed to CHAS. I'. BRITTON,
Editor " Broadway Omnilms,"
B)7. Pearl street, N. Y.
October "13, .3S-St
T i IANCY FURS,
FOR LADIES AND CHILDREN.
don N FAR-ETRA &Co., No. SIS, (new N 0..) NI \t:111:1 Street,
abo‘o Eighth. PIIIL UM.LPIIII-1111 - I , orterS, MalliliaCtUrCrS
Zl.lld. Dealers In FANCY FURS, for Ladies ;1114 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 (diameter of our Furs, both fur quality and
priY. is so generally known throughout the Country, that
we think it is not necessary for us to say anything more
than that we bare now opened our assortment of FURS,
for the Fall and Winter Sales, of the largest and must
beautiful assortment that we have ever offered before to
the public. Our Furs have all been Imported during the
present season, when money was seal ce and Furs much
lower than at the present time, and have been manufac
tured by the must competent workmen; we are therethre
determined to sell than at such prices as ill continue to
give us the reputation we have born for years, that is to
sell a good article for a very small, profit.
Storekeepers will do \veil to give us a call, as they will
find the largest assortment, by far, to select bola in the
city, and at manufacturers prices.
FAREIRA. & CO..
SIS, Market Street, ctbore Sth, Phint
oteraber 15, 1855.--Im.
G R E - E
XCITE MEN T
Al TIILI
MATAIMOTH STORE!!
J. BRICE:ER has returned from the E:c.t with a tromen
dons Stock of Goods. They are upon the shelves in hi-
New Rooms, on Hill street, near 11.7.. tee r ..., Hotel, ready for
customers.
Ins Stock consists of every variety or
LADIES' DRESS GOODS,
DItY GOODS, GENERALLY,
GROCERIES AND QUEEN SW A RE,
HARDWARE AND GLASSWARE,
CROCKERY AND CEDARWARE,
BOOTS AND SIIOHS,
HATS AND CAPS.
And everything to be found in the ma,t exten , ,ive stores.
His Stock is New and of the Best, and Hie public uie in
vited to call and examine, free'of eltargo.
11 -1 01. - i - EVERYBODY
TRY TIIE NEW STORE,
On Hill Street, opposite Miles d Dorris' Office
TUE BEST
SUGAR and MOLASSES.
COFFEE, TEA and CHOCOLATE,
FLOUR, FISH, SALT and "VINEGAR,
CONFECTIONERIES , CLUAU and. TaiiACCO,
SPICES OF TUE BEST, AND BALI, KENDS,
nutl•overy other article usually found in a Grocery Store
Dings, Chemicals, Dye Stuff:,
Paints, Varnishes, Oils and Sias. Turpentine,
• Fluid, Alcohol, Glass and Putty,
BEST WINE and BRANDY for medical purposes.
/Mr, TILE" BEST PATENT MEDICI N ES,
and a large number of articles too numerous to mention,
The public generally will please call and examine for
themselves and learn my prices,
linntingdon, May 25,1858
ALSO-
J. BRICKER
o BRICK ER'S
J. BILICKER'S
MAINIMOTII STORE
MAMMOTH STOP I•;
m.A3nionr.
IS VIE PLACE
IS T[l PLACE
IS TUE PLACE
FOR. DRY GOODS, TIARDWARE, Sc
FOR DRY GOODS, HARDWARE, Sc
YOR DRY GOODS, HARDWARE, Sc
TOVES ! STOVES ! STOVES?
kj INDUSTRIAL STOVE WORKS, No. 33,
North SEcoxo Street, oppottite Christ elotrch,
PHIIADELPIIII.. The subscriber respectfnlly in
forms his friends and the public generally that he lies
taken the Store, at 210. 33, North Svat,7 Street, where he
will be pleased to see his oil customers :vt friends.
lle has now on hand a splendid assortment of PARLOR,
,TIALL, OFFICE, STORE and COOKING STOVES. of the
latest and. most approved Rinds, at wholesale and
11'51. C. NIDIA.N,
Ka. 33, North S•teenit SL. Phila.
N.B.—Your particul:u• attention is invited to MEOEE'S
PATENT GAS B VEINING WARMING and V ENTILATI
STOVES, for Parlors, Offices, Stores, Halls, Cars. &c., which
for economy, purety of air, and ease of management has
no equal. W. C. N.
tcr - •• Odd' Castings for all kinds of Stores, en hand.
Se itember 15, ISsB.—ffin.
lIUNTINGDON HOTEL.
The subscriber respectfully announces to his friends
and the public generally, that he leis leased that old and
well established TA' LRN STAND, known as the,
Huntingdon House. on the corner of Hill and
Charles Street, in the Borough of Huntingdon.—
He has fitted up the House in such a style as to.
It -
render it very comfortable for lodging Strangers and Tray
elers.
HIS TABLV, will always be stored with the best the sea
son can am,rd, to snit the tastes and appetites of his guests.
BIS BAR, will always be filled with Choice Liquors, and
HIS STAI3LE always attended by careful and attentive
Ostlers.
trir , -He hopes by strict attention to business and a spirit
of accommodation, to merit and receive Fiberl share ot
public patronage. ATEEI.
May Li, 1858—Iy.
ALEX ANDRIA FOUNDRY !
The Alexandria Foundry has been
bought by It. C. McGILL, and is in blast, FErtift:
and have all kinds of Castings, Stoves, Ma-,) ,
chines,Plows, Kettles. &c., tic., which he .., i , 8 , 4 r „„„
will sel at the lowest prices. All kinds 'l4.
of Country Produce and old Metal taken in exchange for
,Castings, at market prices
April 7,1855,
COUNTRY DEALERS can
buy CLOTHING from mo in Huntingdon at
WHOLESALE as cheap as they can in the
cities, as I have a wholesale store in Philadelphia.
Huntingdon, April 11, 1858. 11. ROMAN.
TARNISH VARNISH I !
ALL KINDS, warranted good, for sale at
BROWN'S hardware Store,
Huntingdon, Pa.
April 28, 185S-tf.
HARD -WARE
A Large Stock. just received, and for sale at
BRICKER'S MA3IXIOTII STORE
THE MAMMOTH STORE
Is the place for Latest Styles of Ladies' Dress Goods
RRICKER'S Mammoth Store is the
o place to get the we rth of your money, in Dry Goods,
Hardware, Groceries, &c., &c.
kLASS Preserving Jars, different sizes,
for sale cheap, by FISHER. Sr. 31:311.111TRIE.
HEAT!
For sale at
3 months. 6 months. 12 months.
...$1 50 , z;: , 00 4 :5 00
.... 00 500 700
S. S. SMITH
IL C. AfcGILL
D. P.OWIN'S
$1 50
3 do.
.s
50
. 1 00
. 2 00
.30J
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL, XIV.
del.cc`9,gtinj.
“I .411t1 NOT OLD.”
I am not old—though years have cast
Their shadows on my day;
I am not old—though youth has passed
On rapid wings away ;
For in my heart a fountain flows,
And round it pleasant thoughts repose,
Ana sympathies and feelings high
Spring like stars on evening's sky.
I am not old—Time may have set
His signet on my brow,
And some faint furrows there have met,
Which care may deepen now;
Yet Love, fond love a chaplet weaves
Of fresh young buds and verdant leaves,
And still I fancy, I can twine
Thoughts sweet as flowers that once were mine
I am not obl—the snowy tinge
That's fallen on my hair,
What is it but a silver fringe
That makes the head more fair!
Sad contract, may be, to the brown
Which used. to deck my early crown ;
nut, lot the senile tokens stay,
No impulse of my soul is gray.
I am not old—though I moat leave
This earth and he at rest;
Soon, very soon, I will but grieve
For those whom Love loves best.
What through this fragile frame shall fade
lii Age's cold and gloomy shade,
I shall regain the light, and be
Youthful in immortality.
c itoq.
[From the London Family Herald.]
A TALE FOR TRUANT HUSBANDS
" Where are you going, George ?" asked
Mrs. "Wilson, as her husband rose from the
tea table, and took his hat.
o—l'm going out," was the careless re
sponse.
" But where ?" asked his wife.
" What odds does it make, Emma?" re
turned her husband. "I shall be back at
my usual time."
The young wife hesitated, and a quick
flush overspread her face. She seemed to
have made up her mind to speak plainly
upon a subject which had lain uneasily upon
her heart for some time, and she could not
let the opportunity pass. It required an ef
furt—Lut she persevered.
" Let me tell you what odds it makes to
me," she said in a kind but tremulous tone.
"If I cannot have your company here at
home, I should at least feel better if I knew
where you were."
" But you know that I am safe, Emma—
and what more can you ask?"
" I do not know that you are safe, George.
I know nothing about you when you are
away."
"'Pooh ! pooh ! Would you have it that
I am not capable of taking care of myself?"
" Yua put a wrong construction upon my
words, George. Love is always anxious
when its dearest object is away. If I did
not love you as I do, I might not be thus un
easy. When you are at your place of busi
ness, I never feelthus, because I know I
can seek and find you at any moment ; but
when you are absent during these long even
iners, I get to wondering where you are.—
Tan begin to feel lonesome ; and so one
thought follows another, until I feel troubled
and uneasy. Oh—if you would only stay
with me a portion of your evenings!"
" Aha—l thought that was what you were
aiming at," said George, with a playful
shake of the head. "You would have me
itere every evening."
" Well—can you wonder at it ?" returned
Emma. "I used to be very happy when
you came to spend an evening with me, be
fore we were married ; and I know I should
be very happy in your society, now."
Ah," said George, with a smile, "those
were business meetings. We were arranging
then for the future."
"And why not continue so to do, my hus
band ? lam sure we could be as happy now
as ever. If you will remember one of our
plans was to make a HOME."
" And havent we got one, Emma?"
' VT; have certainly a place in which to
live, answered the wife, somewhat evasively.
And it is our home," pursued George,
" and," he added, with a sort of confident
flourish, " home is the wife's peculiar prov
ince. She has charge of it, and all her work
is there ; while the duties of the husband call
him to other scenes."
" Well, I will admit that, so far as certain
duties are concerned," replied Emma. "But
you must remember that we both need relax
ation from labor ; we need. time for social
and mental improvement and enjoyment;
and what time have we for this, save even
ings? Why should not this be my home of
an evening, as well as in the daytime and in
the night ?"
" Well—isn't it ?" asked George.
" How can it be if you are not here ?
What makes a home for children, if it be
not the abode of the parents ? What home
can a husband have where there is no wife?
And—what real borne comforts can a wife
enjoy where there is no husband ? You do
not consider how lonesome I am, all alone
here, during these long evenings. They are
the very seasons when I am at leisure to en
joy your companionship, and when you
would be at leisure to enjoy mine, if it is
worth enjoying. They are the seasons when
the happiest hours of home life might be
passed. Come—will you not spend a few
evenings with me ?"
" You see enough of me as it is," said the
husband, lightly.
" Allow me to be the best judge of that,
George. You would be very lonesome here,
all alone."
" Not if it was my place of business, as it
is of yours," returned the young man.—
" You are used to staying here. All wives
belong to home."
BY DARK BENJAMIN
HUNTINGDON, PA.
Just remember, husband, that, previous
to our marriage, I had pleasant society all the
time. Of course, I remained at home much
of my time ; but I had a father and mother
there, and I had brothers and sisters there
—and our evenings were happily spent.—
Finally I gave all up for you. I left the old
home and sought a home with my husband ;
And now, have I not a right to expect some
of your companionship? How would you
like it to have me away every evening,
while you were obliged to remain here
alone ?"
" Why—l should like it well enough."
" Ah—but you would not be willing to try
HE
" Yes, I would," said George, at a ven
ture.
" Will you remain here every evening,
next week, and let me spend my time
among, my female friends ?"
" Certainly I will," he replied; "and I as
sure you I shall not be so lonesome as you
imagine."
With this the husband went out, and was
soon among his friends. He was a steady,
industrious man, and loved his wife truly ;
but, like thousands of others, he had contrac
ted a habit of spending his evenings abroad,
and thought it no harm. His only practical
idea of home seemed to be, that it was a place
which his wife took care of, and where he
could eat, drink and sleep, as long as he could
pay for it. In short, he treated it as a sort
of private boarding house, of which his wife
was landlady; and if he paid all the bills he
considered his duty done, His wife had fre
quently asked him to stay at home with her,
but she had never ventured upon any argu
ment before, and he had no conception of
how much she missed him. She always
seemed happy when he came home, and he
supposed she could always be so.
Monday evening came, and George Wilson
remained true to his promise. His wife put
on her bonnet and shawl, and he said he would
remain and keep house.
" What will you do when I am gone ?" Em
ma asked.
Oh—l shall read and sing, and enjoy
myself generally."
" Very well," said Emma. "I shall be
back early."
The wife went out, and the husband was
left alone. He had an interesting , book and
he began to read it. He read - till eight
o'clock, and then he began to yawn, and Look
frequently at the clock. The book did not
interest him as usual. Ever and anon he
would come to a passage which he knew would
please his wife, and instinctively he turned
as though be would read it aloud ; but there
was no wife to hear ie. Ai; eight
he rose from his chair and began to pace the
floor, and whistle. Then he went and got his
flute, and played several of his favorit airs.
After this he got a chess board, and played a
game with an imaginary partner. Then he
walked the floor and whistled again. Finally,
the clock struck nine, and his wife returned.
"Well George," said she, "I am hack in
g ood time. How have you enjoyed your
self ?"
"Capitally !" returned the husband. I had
no idea it was so late. I hope you have en
joyed yourself."
"Oh, splendidly !" said his wife, "I had no
idea how much enjoyment there was away
from borne. Home is a dull place after all
—isn't it ?"
"Why—no—l can't say that it is, returned
George, carelessly. "In fact," he added, "I
rather like it."
" I am glad of that," retorted Emma, "for
we shall both enjoy ourselves now. You
shall have a nice comfortable week of it."
George -winced at this, but ho kept his
countenance, and determined to stand it
out.
On the next evening Emma prepared to go
away again.
"I shall be back in good time," she said.
" Where are you going ?" her husband
asked.
"Oh, I can't tell exactly. I may go to sev
eral places."
So George Wilson was left alone again and
he tried to amuse himself as Wore; but he
found it a difficult task. Ever and anon he
would cast his eyes upon that empty chair,
and the thought would come,," How pleasant
it would be if she were here 1" The clock
finally struck nine, and: he began to listen
for the step of his wife. Half an hour more
slipped by, and he became very nervous and
uneasy.
" I declare," he muttered to himself, after
he had listened for some time in vain, " this
is too bad. She ought not to stay out so late 1"
But he happened to remember that he often
remained away much later than that, so
he concluded that he must make the best
of it.
At a quarter to ten Emma came home.
"A little late, am I not ?" she said, look
ing up at the clock. "But I fell in with
some old friends. How have you enjoyed
yourself?"
" First-rate," returned George bravely.—
"I think home 'is a capital place."
"Especially when a man can have it all
to himself," added the wife, with a sidelong
glance at her husband. But he made no
reply.
On the next evening, Emma prepared to
go out as before • but this time she kissed
her husband ere le went, and seemed to hes
itate.
• _
"Where do you intend going ?" George
asked in an undertone.
" I may drop into see Uncle John," replied
Emma. " However, you won't be uneasy.—
You'll know I'm safe."
" Oh, certainly," said her husband ; but
when left to his own reflections he began to
ponder seriously upon the subject that pre
sented for consideration. He could not read
—he could not play—nor enjoy himself in
any way, while that chair was empty.—
In short, he found that home had no real
comfort without his wife. The one thing
needed to make his home cheerful was not
present.
"I declare," ho said to himself, "I did not
think it would be so lonesome. And can it
be that sho feels as I do, when she is hero
f
..:. R
yxt.
..1
..' , l - .• . ....
r- - ..- - ' ,, W , c -,. • c•:;- :
'''.:•.k :711... ;1'. . ' . :,';', .I‘. '
'-- .;!tr,.
0 ' .;
-PERSEVERE.-
DECEMBER 8, 1858.
alone? It must be so," he pursued thought
fully. "It is just as she says. Before we
were married she was very happy in her
childhood's home. ller parents loved her,
and her brothers and sisters loved her, and
they did all they could to make her comfor
table."
After this he walked up and down the room
several times, and then stopped again and
communed with himself.
" I can't stand this I" said he. "I should
die in a week. If Emma were only here, I
think I could amuse myself very well. How
lonesome and dreary it is ! And only eight
o'clock ! I declare—l've a mind to walk
down as far as Uncle John's and see if she
is there. It would be a relief if I only saw
her. I won't go in. She shan't know yet
that I hold out so faintly."
George Wilson took another turn across
the room, glanced once more at the clock, and
then took his hat and went out. He locked
the door after him, and then bent his steps
towards Uncle John's. It was a beautiful
moonlight night, and the air was keen and
bracing. He was walking along, with his
eyes bent upon the pavement, when he heard
a light step approaching him. He looked
up, and—he could not be mistaken—saw his
wife. His first impulse was to avoid her,
but she had recognized him.
"George," she said, in surprise, "is this
you ?"
"It is," was the response.
"And you do not pass your evenings at
home ?"
" This is the first time I have been out,
Emma, upon my word ; and even now I have
not been absent from the house ten minutes.
I merely came out to take the fresh air.—
But where are you going ?"
"I am going home, George. Will• you go
with me ?"
Certainly," returned tlie husband. She
took his arm, and they walked home in 2i
.
lenee.
When Emma had taken off her things, she
sat down in her chair, and looked at the
clock.
"You have come home early to night,"
remarked George.
The young wife looked up into her hus
band's face, and, with an expression half
smiling and half tearful, she answered, "
will confess the truth George ; I have given
up the experiment. I managed to stand it
last evening, but I, could not bear it through
to-night. "When I thought of you here all
alone, I. wanted to be with you. It didn't
seem right. I haven't enjoyed myself at all.
I have no home but this."
" Say you so !" cried George, moving his
chairwife's side, and taking one of her
hands. "Then let me make my confession.
I have stood it not a whit better. When I
left the house this evening, I could bear it
no longer. I found that this was no home
for me, while my sweet wife was absent. I
thought I would walk down by Uncle John's,
and see your face, if possible. I had gazed
upon your empty chair till my heart ached."
Ile kissed her as. he spoke, and then added,
while she reclined her head upon his arm,
" I have learned a very good lesson. Your
presence here is like the bursting forth of the
sun after a storm ; and if you love me as I
love you—which of course, I cannot doubt—
my presence may afford some sunlight for
you. At all events, our next experiment
skall be to that effect. I will try and see
how much home comfort we can find while
we are both here to enjoy."
Emma was too happy to express her joy
in words ; but she expressed. it neverthe
less, and in a manner, too, not to be mista
ken.
The next evening was spent at home by
both husband and wife, and it was a season
of much enjoyment. In a short time George
began to realize how much comfort was to
be fund in a quiet and peaceful home ; and
the longer he enjoyed this comfort, the more
plainly did he see and understand the simple
truth, that it takes two to make a happy home,
and that if the wife is one party, and the
husband must be the other.
The book of Job is generally regarded as
the most . perfect specimen of the poetry of
the Hebrews. It is alike picturesque in the
declination of individual phenomena, and ar
tistically skilful in the didactic arrangements
of the whole work. In all the modern lan
guages in which the book of Job has been
translated, its images, drawn from the natu
ral scenery of the East, leave a deep impres
sion on the mind.
" The Lord walketh in the height of the
waters, on the ridges of the waves, towering
high beneath the force of the wind." "The
morning red has colored the margins of the
earth, and variously formed the covering of
the clouds, as the hand of man holds the
yielding clay."
The habits of animals are described, as for
instance, those of the wild ass, the horse, the
buffalo, the rhinoceros, the crocodile, the ea
gle and the ostrich. We see "pure ether
spread, during the scorching heat of the
South wind, as a plaited mirror over the
parched desert."
The poetic literature of the Hebrews is
not deficient in variety of forms; for while
the Hebrew poetry breathes a tone of war
like enthusiasm from Joshua to Samuel, the
little book of the gleaner Ruth presents us
with a charming and exquisite picture of na
ture. Goethe, at the period of his enthusi
asm for the East, spoke of it "as the loveli
est of epic and idyl poetry which we pos
sess."—Humbolt's Cosmos.
A good anecdote of Professor Ages-
Biz is told in a new volume in press at Bos
ton. The Professor bad declined to deliver
a lecture before some lyceum or public soci
ety, on account of the inroads which previ
ous lectures given by him had Made upon
his studies and habits of thought. The gen
tlemen who had been deputed to invite him,
continued to press the invitation, assuring
him that the society were ready to pay him
liberally for his services. "That is no in
ducement to me," replied Agassiz ; "I can
not afford to waste my time iu making
money."
The Book of Job.
Editor and Proprietor.
The Lowly and the Loving
" The alms most precious man can givo to man,
Aro kind and lovely words. Nor come £1.711i99
Warm sympathising tears to eyes that scan
Thu world aright. The only error is
Neglect to do the little good we can."
Love has often more influence than talent.
The last appeals to the reason, the first to the
affections—the last speaks to the intellect,
but the first goes straight to the heart. "It
is beautiful," exclaims a Swedish author,
"to believe ourselves loved, especially by
those whom we love and value." Yes, it is
beautiful, certainly, but woe to us if we neg
lect the responsibility attached to it. When
God permits us to win the regards of others,
he places in our bounds a sweet and powerful
influence which we should he very careful to
use in his service and for his glory. Human
affections, sanctified by the divine blessing,
may be made the instrument of much good ;
wanting that blessing, it is but a shining
light without life or warmth.
The pious Jonathan Edwards describes a
Christian as being like " such a little flower
as we see in the Spring of the year ; low and
humble on the ground ; opening its bosom
to receive the pleasant beams of the son's glo
ry, rejoicing, as it were, in a calm rupture,
diffusing around a sweet fragrance, standing
peacefully and lowly in the midst of other
flowers. The world may think nothing of
the little flower—they maynot even notice it, but,
nevertheless, it will be diffusing around a
sweet fragrance upon all who dwell within its
lovely sphere."
It has been truly said that the amiable,
the loving and the unselfish, almost insensi
bly dissuade from evil, and persuadt , to good,
all who come within the reach of their sooth
ing power ; that no one can advance alone
toward the happiness or misery of another
world ; and little can the most insignificant
of beings conjecture how extensive may have
been the beneficial or ill effects which have
attended their own apparently unimportant
conduct.
"In the heraldy of heaven," writes Bishop
Horne, "goodness precedes greatness ; so on
earth it is far more powerful. The lowly
and the loving may frequently do more in
their own limited sphere than the gifted.—
To yield constantly in little things, begets
the same yielding spirit in others, and ren
ders life happier. We must never forget
that we are all appointed to some station
which fill in this life by the wise Disposer of
events, who knows what is suited to our va
rious capacities and talents much better than
we do ourselves, and who would not have
placed us there if He had not something for
us to do. now few there are who live up to
their own power of being useful. Earth is
our dwelling place, where each has his or her
appointed sphere of usefulness, their mission
of love and duty, as they pass homeward to
heaven."
The Book of Ruth
It is said that Dr. Samuel Johnson, on one
occasion - had gathered around him that select
circle of literary friends who often met to
hear the recitations of each other's produc
tions of•genius, vr to listen to such results of
literary discovery as anyone might find
among the unknown relics stored away in
the corners of great libraries or among
restored fragments of ancient learning,
which were now and then brought to light.
At this interview, the celebrated critic and
essayist read to his friends what he said was
a pastoral in prose, or what they might call
a Bucolic or a Georgic, if they could call it a
name, and locate its authorship and charac
ters. After reading from some manuscripts
or scattered leaves, the entire book of Ruth,
his literary associates were enraptured with
admiration. They inquired where such au
original and matchless production had origi
nated ; how it came to be known ; and they
declared that in all their classical readings
they had never seen it, nor the like of it,
and that such a relic of literature was now
destined to immortality. The reader at
length told them that this literary gem could
be found in their printed bibles, far back
among the unread records of the Jewish
judges and kings ; and that in neglecting the
ancient chronicles for heathen classic and
for modern literature, they had overlooked
the fountain of the purest learning.
It is one of the peculiar excellencies of
these ancient Scripture narratives, that their
portraits of character are true to life—are at
once recognized by the lovers of what is genuine
in nature, even in the remotest times and
countries. Full three thousand years have
passed since the events and persons of this
narrative formed a part of the then acting
age ; and yet so fresh are these strokes of
nature, that artists have vied with each other,
in bringing out these features as the choicest
subjects of their genius, whether in poetry,
sculpture or painting.—Southern Baptist.
TIIE GOOD WIFE.-A farmer was once bles
sed with a good natured, contented wife ; but
it not being in the nature of man to be satis
fied, he one day said to a neighbor, he really
wished he could hear his wife scold once, for
the novelty of the thing. Whereupon his
sympathizing neighbor advised him to go to
the woods and get a load of crooked sticks,
which would certainly make her as cross as
he could desire. Accordingly, the farmer
collected a load of the most ill-shaped, crook
ed, crotchety materials that were ever known
under the name of fuel. This he deposited
in the place taking care that his spouse
should have accession to no other wood.—
Day after day passed without a complaint.—
At length the pile was consumed.
"Well, wife," said the farmer, "I am go
ing after more wood, I'll get another load
just such as I got last time."
" Oh, yes, Jacob," she replied, "it will be
nice if you will ; for such crooked, crotchety
wood as you brought before DOES lie around
the pot so nicely."
A Dutchman thinks that "oneslay ish
de pesht policy, but it keeps a man tam poor!"
—Mynheer should mix it.
Vii" To prevent the second glass from in
toxicating a person—never take the first.
SPEECIIES.-.A Good Hin!for Preachersancl
PuliticianN.—Mr. Jefferson said he bad been
in deliberative bodies with Gen. Washington
and Dr. Franklin, .and that he bad never
heard either of them make a speech more than
fifteen minutes long, and then always to
the point. He adds that no members possessed
more influence, or who were listened to with
more profound attention. Mr. Jefferson him
self, we believe, was never noted for much
speaking, although every speech he made
told among the members. One secret of
Patrick Henry's almost superhuman elo
quence was that be never spoke without be
had something to say, and always stopped
when he had gotten through. Mr. Madison
and Chief Justice Marshall were famous for
the strength and compression of theirspeech
es. In general, it may be set down as an in
contestable fact, that when a man makes an
long speech, he has not digested his subject
properly, either from indolence, from want
of time or from lack of capacity. Compres
sion requires study, and is the most difß
cult of all the arts connected with either
writing or speaking. Mr. Webster, in hisfa,-
mous speech in the India Rubber case, apolo
gised to the Court fur its length, on the plea
of want of time to condense his ideas,
NO. 24.
SEEING FAIR PLAY.—Strolling leisurely
about Uncle Sam's big ship-yard ,in Washing
ton, the other day, we observed a regular
hard-weather, sailor-looking chap, from a
man-o'-war, who, in turn, was watching two
men dragging a large cross-cut saw through
a huge live oak log. The saw was dull, the
log terribly hard, and there they went—see
saw, see-saw—pull, push, push, pull. Jack
studied the matter over awhile, until he
came to the conclusion they were pulling
to see who would get the saw, and as one was
a monstrous big chap, while the other was a
little fellow, Jack decided to see fair play ;
so giving the big one a clip under the ear
that capsized him end over end, he jerked
the saw out of the log, and giving it to the
small one, sung out:
"Now run, you beggar!"
SYDNEY SMITH ON ENJOYMENT.—The great
wit and reviewer never penned wiser and tru
er words than these :
"Mankind are always happier for having
been happy ; so that if you make them hap
py now you make them happy twenty years
hence by the memory of it. A childhood
passed with a due mixture of rational indul
gence, under fond and wise parents, diffuses
over the whole of life a feeling of calm pleas
ure, and in extreme old age, is the very last
remembrance which time can erase from the
mind of man. No enjoyment, however in
considerable, is confined to the present mo
ment. A man is the happier for life from
having once made an agreeable tour, or lived
for any length of time with pleaSant people,
or enjoyed any considerable interval of inno
cent pleasure; which contributes to render
old men so inattentive to . the scenes before
them, and carries them back to a world that
is past and to scenes never to be renewed
again."
WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR ?-A man was
angry with his wife, either because she talked
too much, or for some reason or other, and
resolved not to speak to her for a long, long
time. He kept his resolution for a few days
very strictly. One evening he is lying in bed
and wishes to sleep ; he draws his night-cap
over his ears, and his wife may say what she
will, he hears nothing of it. The wife then
takes a candle, and carries it to every nook
and corner in the room ; she removed stools,
chairs, and tables, and looks very carefully
behind them. The husband sits up in bed,
and gazes inquiringly at her movements; ho
thinks that the din must have an end at last;
but he is mistaken, his wife keeps on looking
and searching. The husband loses all pa
tience, and cries, " What are you looking
for ?" " For your tongue," she answers ;
" and now that I have found it, tell me why
you are angry." Hereupon they became
good friends again.
Tax BELLs or Moscow.—Bayard Taylor,.
in an exceedingly interesting letter from
Moscow, gives an account of the great . bells
of that city—the largest and most costly
in the world. The Russians have a peculiar
penchana for large bells. The largest among
them, which is on the Tower of the Kremlin,
was east by order of the Empress Anne, in
1730, and weighs one hundred and twenty
tons. It is twenty-two feet high, and twenty
one in diameter at the bottom. It cost one
million and a half of dollars. There is an
other bell near it which weighs sixty-four
tons. It takes three men to ring its tongue.
It is only rung three times a year, then all the
bells are silent. It is said the vibration of
the air is like the simultaneous discharge of
a hundred cannons.
A French woman slides, a Spanish
woman glides, an American lady trots, an
English woman tramps with the strong de
termination of a forlron hope grenadier—we
mean after a certain age—because, up to
that certain uncertainty, English girls, at
least the unreal ones, consider it their duty
to put on with other attributes of the angel
—such as living on air, doting on moonlight,
kissing babies in an aggravating way—an
angel walk, which is a sort of dancing gam
bol, significative of tripping over clouds, and
of a gushing, redundant, laughing innocence
and heedlessness, very destructive to a ba
chelor's peace of mind.
YANKEE ALL Ovmt.—Bayard Taylor says
that a Yankee in walking in St. Petersburg,
one muddy day, met the Grand Duke Con
stantino. The sidewalk was not wide enough
fur two to pass, and. the street was very deep
in filth, whereupon the American took a sil
ver rouble from his pocket, shook it in his
closed hand and cried out "Crown or tail?"
"Crown" guessed the Grand Duke. "Your
Highness has won" said the American, look
ing at the rouble, and stepping into the
mud. The next day the Yankee was invited•
by the Grand Duke to dinner.
r. A. Connecticut schoolmaster asked alad
from Newberryport—
"How many Gods are there?"
The boy, after scratching his head for
some time replied—
"l don't know how many you have in Con
necticut, but we have none in Rhode Island."
Vlr'" Scatter the germs of the beautiful,"
as the poet said when he kicked his wife and
children out of doors.
Bribery—Offering you a pair of lips--
for a kiss. Justifiable Corruption—Taking
the bribe.
il-.,•a-Keep your temper in disputes. The
cool hammer fashions the rod-hot iron into
any shape needed.
XE - -3-There is iron enough in the blooll of
42 men to make a ploughshare of the weight
of 24 pounds.