TERMS OF THE GLOBE.
Per annum iu advance
Six mouths
Three mouthe
A failure to uotify a (Wcont in UMW.' at the exiariation of
the terra subncritial for will be con:, , lered a lane engage
went.
TEltms OF ADVI,RTISING
1 iti:ertrin. 2 do. 3 do.
[roue Itue4 or less .* O . 25 i; 37 . ; - $ 30
One spittre. (12 Uteri.) 50 75 1 10
Two 8,11.1..irtN, 1 J 0....,... 11i0 2 00
Three squares, 1 50 2 23 3 00
Over titree %reek atid less titan 110-e niontlis, 23 cents
per squ:tre for CACI/ 1116erti"Ii.
3 months. 0 months. 12 rnontlri.
Six lin e s or leis . 4. - .:1 50 ,i 43 00 :43 00
One nqiwre, 3 00 5 00 7 00
Two Silliarem . 5 00 8 00 10 00
*Three ~.[cities, 7 00 10 00 ' 15 00
Four squares 9 00...., 13 00 "0 00
[Lalf a column • 12 o'l • 16 00' .24 00
One column • >0 WI 30 00 50 00
1. , ,,,f•1,;.,1tal .tritl I;ii:+ilie,3 I %il'ilS not exceeding four lines,
01)0 Vetir.' .7:',3 (JO
.A•lllllll , tra.t , lt •.- .111 , 1 I . ; , ..i•viittti s r- .": , .11( . o t , Si 75
. 1 lv rii.e•inent. , tvit nil , he.l cs ill, the number of inser
tion.: .I, , ,iced. trill he v0i.11.11001 1:11 torbid and charged ae
•
,ca ling Lo t.11:--, 1i0nt..... . .
,fi)cfcct )3ottri).
" lib AV B liiA.UTIIPITLI IS BARTIIkiI
Oh God! how le•antiful is earth
In -nulight or in r•balle,
Her tilreits with their waving arch,
ller flowers that gcm the glade.
Her hillocks. while with fleecy flocks,
Her fields with grain that glow,
Her sparkling rivers. deop anabroud,
That through the valley flow.
nor crested waves that clash the shore,
And lift their anthem loud,
Tier mountain with th:qr solemn brows,
That woo the yielding cloud.
Oh God! him' beautiful is life,
That thou dolt lend us here,
With tinted hopes that line the cloud,
And joys that gem the tear.
With cradle-hymns of motlrer's young,
And tread of youthful feet;
That scarce, in their elastic bound,
330 w down the grass-flowers sweet.
With brightness round the pilgrim's staff,
Who, at the set of sun,
Beholds the golden gates thrown wide,
And all his work well done.
But if this earth, which changes mar,
This Life to death that leads,
Aro made so beautiful by llini
From whom all good proceeds.
how glorious must that region be
Where all the pure and blest,
From chance, and fear, and sorrow free
Attain eternal rest
ebutational.
REP ORT,
On the Utility of Introducing the Higher
Branches of an English Education into
our Common Schools.
The past of our country was involved in pe
culiar circumstances, and the position of our
forefathers was such as to occasion indiffer
ence to education. Their attention was ne
cessarily demanded in preparing the country
fur a comfortable home.
The forest must be subdued, houses built,
the earth cultivated, the winding path through
the forest, or by, the laughing waters changed
to the broad road; that again to the turnpike,
to give away in turn to the railroad or tele
graph.
There was then a pressing necessity for bring
ing forth the active energies of every member
of society. ' Physical exertion was demanded
on every side. No tune remained to devote
to the directing of the rational powers, and the
establishing of the spiritual. No time for the
establishing of schools and the diffusion of
general knowledge. All thought was direc
ted towards providing for temporal or•phesi
'cal wants and necessities.
As the golden chariot of time rolled on and
brought new joys, new hopes and new antic
ipatiens, the Very - atmosphere seemed to
change; anew impulserenevated every nerve,
a new aspiration caused every heart to heat
with an arduous emulation. Each one felt
that the country was now his home. Th e
savage had been brought to terms of peace,
freedom had been established, the forests had
disappeared, the huts of our forefathers hail
given place to. the stately mansion, the hills
had been levelled for the turnpike, tunneled
for the canal and railroad ; the solitary cabin
by the way side 1111 , 1 become the village, the
borough or the busy city ; mines had been
opened which yieleled abundantly of their
hidden wealth. treasured for ages, to the har
dy, persevering, energetic race, who had pene
trated the bosom of the earth to hring it to
light; • and all seemed to pass along smo.ith
ly.
The universal feeling that work,•werk alone
was necessary hed•become lesis prevalent and
lost its virtue. •The cultivation of mind be
gan to receive more attention, but it was sole
ly in reference to its . value in making money
or facilitating the business process. Schools
were established, and instruction given, but,
'only' in the -first rudiments of knowledge.—
The, spareity of inhabitants, the scarcity and
incompetene,2, - of teachers, seemed to operate
against a more advanced course of study.—
The effect was found in the low mental cul
ture and apparent indifference to all those
branches of education considered, by many,
as merely ornamental.
When academies, colleges and universities
were established, the same feeling of sway
ing only in reference to the value of .educa
tion as so much money or stock invested, in
trade, existed and was as zealously adhered
to as though it was part of the "sacred can
on:" Hence those branches, only, were .
studied which yielded the most gainlin ac
tire life. •. - •
In'the CoMmon Schools, all save a few of
the rudimental branches were considered tin
t-attainable unless . by the favored few who
had the mantle of inspiration thrown around
them, and were therefore never attempted.—
Bence,' the great mass of pupils .remained
up )n the outskirts of science ; and never as
pared to that knowledge which -lifts the soul
f r om earth and enables it• to hold sweet con
verse with a thousand worlds beyond.
- - _
The present period 'presents amore pleas
ing picture. ' Everything has been remodeled:
Science has a new mantle thrown around it.
The country has put on a new garb. The
clangor of arms, the trump of the warrior
calling to battle, the savage yell and the
roar of wild beasts, no longer echo on the
mountains, or in' the valleys. The rich boon
of freedom.purchased with the blood of 'our
forefathers, 18 ours to enjoy. Public improve
ments have been made,-travelling has been
facilitated, the press sustained, liberal sums
given to found and sustain colleges and uni
versities, and generous provision made for the
maintenance of common schools.
The importance of mental culture has been
felt, and a marked improvement in the school
system has followed. School houses now
stand boldly upon the bill-tops, and nestle in
the Taileye. _,A.Lany those branches for-
VI. 50
WILLIAX LEWIS,
VOL, XIV,
merly considered unattainable, are now tau (*h t
by skillful teachers with entire success. The
government has lent it assistance to supply
the accruing wants of the youth.", The terms
of education have become lower; 'and 1010 d
--
edge instead of being limited to a few, has
become prevalent, and all classes are privi
leged to drink from its inexhaustible fount ;
but the provision is not great enough—not
rich enough. The - growing knowledge and
desires of the community demand inure, and'
this demand should be satisfied.
We _cannot reasonably expect that gener
ation after generation will be satisfied with
"the same course of studies in our Common
Schools; that they should, would imply great
deficiency and unfaithfulness in the teach
ers. Heretofore, the progress of the schools
has been retarded by the scarcity of compe
tent instructors, but now that difficulty is oh
ed and a sufficient member of faithful, self
sacrificing men and women offer their services
as instructors of the young.
The plain, humble buildings of our fore
fathers, sink into insignificance beside the pal
ace-like structures of modern times. We re
build with lavish expenditure, calling to our
aid all that the old world can give of art or
science ; and should we not observe the same
in referent to our Common Schools, the great
moral edifice of the natiim ?
The education of the people should receive,
as it richly deserves, our earliest, deepest, and
most unre,nitted attention. We should do
every thing in our power to stimulate and
perfect the Common Schools, and make them
in truth, "The Peoples' Colleges," where the
rude, chaotic faculties of children have form
given to them, causing thom to stand up, men
and women, erect in the conscious dignity
of their nature, with a culture worthy of
their high powers and immortal destiny.
It is a solemn duty, enforced upon us by
the,e views, to make a - richer provision fur
the youth of our country, and the conscienti
ous discharge of this duty, is a debt which we
owe to our Aildren and posterity. We should
multiply and purify the sources of knowledge
so that all might slake the thirst for it with
out going to some "foreign land."
Our sons and daughters are arising up
around us ; they who are to establish the
temple of virtuous freedom, and garnish it
with the embellishments of science, and the
triumphs of genius—they upon whom depends
the supports of our civil and religious institu
tions—they who are to direct the energies of
moral :uid intellectual power, and maintain
our nation's honor—they who are to 'stand at
rile helm of the "Nation's- Ship," and guide
her aright in her triumphant course.over the
boisterous tide of time—they who are to es
tablish a National literature which shall
spread abroad like the mellow rays of the
morning Sun, and bless society with its geni
al influence, and shall we not enlarge their
opportunities for preparing themselves for
these high tocations, since they appeal to us
with outstretched hands, and implore us, in
the name of humanity not to turn them away
empty.
These considerations enforce upon our
views the necessity of introducing the higher
branches of an English education into our
Common Schools. lovould elevate the minds
and purify the hearts of the youth, and indeed
this period of the World's history demands
the combined union and development of ed
ucation and morality in every habitable por
tion of the globe—that Ethiopia may stretch
forth her hands to God, and the isles of the
sea sing our joy—all of which would be but
the dawn of the new era which is to envelope
the world with its noon-tide splendor.
That there is a possibility of arriving at that
state of perfection, which we desire, in the
systeni 'of public instruction, is proven by the
united cry of the people going up in behalf of a
more liberal education. Its importance is
felt and almost universally admitted ; for all
have seen its good ea'ects upon society. This
desire argues the. possibility of introducing
any branch of Seiettee into our schools 'that
would contribute to the - enlightenment of the
people and the education of the masses.
We should ever keep in view the great'ob
ject—tha elevating, the strengthcningand the
purifying of the minds of. the rising genertion
—and press steadily‘forwardjeing governed
by the experience of the past, the wisdom of
the present, and the wants of the, future, un
til we gain the mastery over Ignorance, and
fair Science sits enthroned•in every mind.
The advantages, resulting from introducing
the higher branches of an English education,
into our common schools can hardly be enu
merated. ' In the first place ; it would digni
fy the condition of our schools and raise . the
office - of teaching' from a mere business to a
profession, ennobling in its nature and wor
thy of high honbr: • It would elevate the Sta
ndard of edueation, thereby imprOving society,
by separating the . baser from the finer parts
of our nature: It would develope and bring'
nut the beauties, the excellencies, the perfee
tions 'and 'sublime powers of the human - Mind
as_the additional touches of the artist's
beautify the marble statute. It would in
crease the number of learned and scientific
men in our country.
- 'Many parents who now send their sons and
daughters . abroad to be educated, -would then
keep them at home,-where they would have
many additional advantages, and could re
'ceiv,e a thorough education, without being.
exposed to the evil habits so often contracted
when from parental restraint, besides', these
schools would not be limited to the few, but
be accessible to all.
In the second place, it would have a
,saluL
tary effect upon legislation. There is an un
deniable connection existing between the in
telligence of a nation and its laws. Wise
laws, tend to develope the resources of a
State, and swell the tide of national prosper
ity, by stimulating human ingenuity, encour
aging industry, and securing the quiet enjoy
ment of its fruits. " The connection is not
more inseparable between light and the sun,
between the shadow and its object, between
colors and the rainbow, than that which ex
ists, and ever must exist, between national
prosperity and good laws, and' between good
laws and general intelligence."
In the third place, it would be a pecuniary
benefit to . the country. The only potent ob-
tiv.
t , i,.
51:
6 .e.;, , •t . ,:
*4..,,..
A..T.
Section that can be urged against the most
liberal system- of public instruction, ie its es
pensiveness ; but if it were rightly under
stood, even this objection would fall power
less. It has been proven that .universal edu
cation, at'any cost, is so far fr3m being an
expense to a country, that itis an actual gain
in dollars and cents.'
In this - connection, we may notice that com
petent teachers would
.be required, but we
are persuaded that many of our teachers. are
qualified to teach the higher branches, while
our Academies, Colleges and _Normal &hods
are sending out a large number of competent
young men and women annually, who are de
voting their time to the noble profession of
teaching.
The only reason why poor teachers are ever
tolerated, is, because they work cheap. The
desire of gain, seems to be a master-spring of
human action ; and, this instinct, so univer
sal, and of such potential energy in human
conduct, can be enlisted in behalf of educa
tion. "Convince parents that cheap education
is bad economy, as well as bad philosophy,
and the very same motive that now inclines
them to employ the incompetent teacher, will
then impel them to repudiate him," and give
a more liberal salary to a competent instruc
tor.
If there is a close connection existinc , be
tween the intelligence of a nation and its
laws, it is no less close and significant which
exists between its legislation and its wealth.
Who can calculate the activity and enterprise
diffused through the community by the opera
tion of a single wise law, and the extent to
which it has augmented the productive labor
of the country ; thus pouring untold riches
into the hip of the nation.
The universal cultivation of the mind and
heart will also increase the wealth of a coun
try, by increasing the intellectual and moral
powers of each member of society, thus pro
ducing more virtue and intellectual capacity,
which lies at the root of all prosperity.
It is not nature alone that makes the man.
Time living spark must first be kindled by the
schools. It is the school that first quickens
curious thought, fills the mind with princi
ples of science, and starts the moral and in
tellectual powers into action. Therefore, we
should spare no pains, count no expense, but
push our schools to the highest possible limit
of perfection.
Again, lastly, the diffusion of sound -edu
cation of the . mind and heart, among the
members of a community would diminish the
moral and social burdens which oppress soci
ety and exhaust its resources. The relation . ,
of ignorance to vice: and crime in all their
forms, is too well known to require any proof
or illustration. It would have a tendency to
diffuse christian principles, to strengthen the
christian spirit, and to promote the Christian
virtues. General intelli o•enceand ehristiouity
are twin sisters, and dependant upon each
other. The diffusion of knowledge is the
only means of promoting Christianity, and
the first step toward reclaiming a heathen
nation, is to establish schools and educate the
people, to prepare them to receive the chris
tian virtues, and adorn their souls with the
mantle of " holiness." Knowledge expands
the wings of intellect and opens up all the
senses to the glorious wonders of creation.—
It enables man to realize the presence of the
great Jehovah in every object in natoe,,and
adore and worship Him in grand nature's
temple inscribed to the loving God. On the
other hand, ignorance and superstition follow
each other as the night the day, leading men
from the worship of the true Clod•to the-wor
ship if idols and that which is not God. The
more intelligence a nation has, the purer the
morals of its people are.
Universal education would also raise the
aspirations, elevate the affections, improve
the sense of taste, inspire a love for the beau
tiful in nature, and the sublimity of God's
works, thus leading us to a longing desire for
perfection, which alone exists in the Great
'Jehovah, and finally; to the worship and ad
oration of .Llim as our Creator, Preserver and
bountiful Benefactor.
Then let us do all \Vb . can to perfect our
common schools—the great fountain of pope=
lar light and knowledge. Let us combine to
make education free to all as the air we
breathe, and pure as the life-giving sunshine.
Let us work on in the honest, courageous
faith, that He whose sunshine .causes the
flowers to unfold . their beauties, .and shed
their fragrance upon the-passing breeze, will
not deny His blessing to the seeds of knowl
edge and virtue. '.
Respectfully submitted,
• A. B. BRIJIMAITGKE,
M1LT02 , .7 . SANGAREE:
AN IMPATIENT JURYMAN.—The District
Court in one.of the northern parishes of Lou
isiana was in session ; 'twas the first day of
the Court; time, after dinner. Lawyers and
others had dined, and were sitting out before
the hotel, and a long; lank, unsophisticated
countryman came up and unceremoniously
made himself one of 'em, and remarked :
"Gentlemen, I wish you would go on with
this Court, for I want_. to go home ; I left
Betsey looking out."
" Ah I". said one of the 'lawyers, " and
pray, sir, what detains you at Court?" -
" Why, sir," said the countryman, " I am
fotched here as a jury, and they say - if Igo
borne they will have to furl me, and they
mout'nt do that, as I live a good piece."
" What jury are you on 2" asked a lawyer.
" What jury 2"
" Yes, what jury grand or traverse jury?"
" Grand or travis Jury 2 dad fetched if I
" Well," said the lawyer, " did the judge
charge you 2"
Well, 'squire," said he, " the little fellow
that sits up in the pulpit,, and kinder bos s es
it over the crowd, gin us tt, Talk, but I don't
know whether he cicarges anything or not."
PHITNNY Pais.—The editor of the Kansas
Chief must be in a ludicrous "phix."
says :--" We have lived on potatoes and beef
so long that we have a complete Irish brogue,
and are getting horns and tail like a steer.—
We have eaten s o i n a pi pumpkins that it is
dlffleult for us •InClisii,i4msh Our head from
a pumpkin." •
- FERSE V ERE.-
HUNTINGDON, PA., JANUARY 19, 1859.
~ " elett c.°-51-arp.
THE UNCLE'S WILL ;
-uii-
JOHN CLARKE'S FORTUNE.
BY MRS. .M. A. DENISON
"Never mind the house, John, we've gnt
one of our own," whispered John Clarke's
wife.
She was a rosy little thing only twenty
summers old. How brightly and bewitching
ly she shone—a star amid the sombre coin-
"But what in the world has he left me ?"
muttered John Clarke. "I believe he hated
me—l believe they all hate me."
"llush, hear !"
I bequeath to John Clarke, my'dearly be-
loved nephew," read the -grim attorney, " us
a reward for his firmness in resisting-temp
tation the last two years, and his determina
tion to improve in - all acceptable things, my
one-horse shay; which has stood in my barn
over twenty-five years, requesting that he
shall repair it, or cause it to be repaired, in
a suitable manner."
That was all. Some of the people gather
ed there, tittered, and all seemed to enjoy
the confusion of the "pooryoung man. His
eyes flashed fire, h trembled excessively . ;
poor little Jenny fairly cried.
"To think," she said to herself, "how bard
he has tried to be good, and that is all he
thought of it 1"
" Wish you joy," said a red-beaded youth,
with a grin, as he came out of the room.
John sprang up to color the fellow, but a
little white hand laid on .his coat sleeve re
strained him.
" Let them triumph, John, it won't hurt
you," said Jenny, with her sunny smile, please
don't notice them fur my sake."
" Served him right," said Susan Spriggs,
the niece of the old man just dead, and to
whom he had left all his silver, "served him
right for marrying that ignorant goose. Jenny
Brazier. I suppose he calculated a good deal
on the old gentleman's generosity." To
which she added, in a whisper that only her
own heart heard, ''lie might have married me.
He had the chance, and I loved him better
than any one else—better than that pretty
little fool, Jenny Brazier."
"Now we shall see how deep his goodness
I is," said a maiden aunt, through her nose ;
"he stopped. short in wickedness just because
he expected' a fortune from my poor, dear
brother. Thanks_to Massey that lie left me
five hundred dollars. Now I can get that
new carpet ; but we'll see how much of a
change there is in John Clarke—he always
was an imp of wickedness."
" Well, I guess John Clarke will have to
he contented with his little ten feet shanty,''
said the father of Susan Spriggs to good old
Deacon Joe Hemp.
" Well, I reckon he is content—if he ain't
he ought to Lo, With that little jewel of a
wife ; she's bright enough to make any four
walls shine,"- was the deacon's reply.
" Pshaw I you're all crazy about that gal.
Why she ain't to be compared to my Susan.
Susan plays on the forty-piano likesixty, and
manages a house first rate."
- " Bless you, neighbor Spriggs, I'd rather
have that innocent blooming face to smile at
me when I waked up of mornings than all
the forty-piano gals you can scare up 'tween
here and the Indies—fact I"
" I'd like to know what you mean !" ex
claimed Mr. Spriggs, firing up.
"Just what I say," replied good old Dea
eon Joe, coolly.
"Well, that John Clarke 'll die on the gal
lows yet, mark my words," said Mr. Spriggs,
spitefully.
" That John Clarke will make one of our
best citizens, and pi to the legislature yet,"
replied old Deacon Joe, complacently.
"Doubt it !"
" Yes, may be you do ; and that's a pretty
way to build up a young fellow, isn't it, when
he's trying his best. No, John Clarke won't
be a good citizen if you can help it. People
that cry ''mad dog' are plaguey to
stone the critter while he's runnin', I take
it ; and if. he ain't mad they're sure to drive
him so. Why don't, you set up to him and
say, John, I'm glad you're right now, and
I've got faith.in you, vtid if you want any
help, why come to me, and I'll put you
through.'. That is the way to do business,
Mr. Spriggs."
"Well, I hope you'll do it, that's all replied
Spriggs, sulkily.
" "I hope I - shall ; and I'm bound to, any
way, if I have a chance. Fact he's got
such a smart little 'wife thrit lie don't really
need any help."
" No I—it's a pity, then, that 'brother Jai .
cob left him that one-horse shay!?
"17e needn't laugh at that ; old Jacob nev
er did nothing without' meaning to it. That
old shay may help him to be a great man yet.
Fact is I think myself if Jacob had left him
money, it might have been the ruin of him.
Less things than a one-horse-shay has made
a man's fortin."
- "Well, I'm glad you think so much of him;
I don't."
"No," muttered Deacon Joe, as his neigh
bor turned away, "but if he had married
your raw-boned darter that-plays on the for
ty-piano, he'd been all -right, and no. mis
take."
"A one-horse shay 1' ' said the minister,
laughing ; what a fortune !"
And so it went, from mouth to mouth.—
None of the relatives—some already rich—
had offered the poorest man among them—
the owner of the one-horse shay—a dollar of
the bequeathmeut left to him or to her ; but
they had ratherrejoiced in his. disappointment.
The truth is, everybody had prophesied
that John Clake, a pour, motherless boy,
would come to ruin, and they wanted the
prophecy to prove a true one. He had, in
his youth, been wild and wayward, and
somewhat profligate in the early years of his
manhood ; but his old uncle bad encouraged
him to reform—held out hopes to which he
had hitherto been a stranger, and the love of
the sweet young Jenny Brazier completed, as
it seemed, his reformation.
•
0
t• 11
, 54
.031 $: 4 2
< _
,
Jenny never appeared So lovely as she 'did
on that unfortunate day of the reading of
the will after they had returned to the poor
little house that was Jenny's own.
"No matter, John," she said, cheerfully,
" you Will rise in spite of them. I wouldn't
let them think I was in the least discouraged,
that will only please them too well, We are
doing nicely now, and you know if they do
cut the railroad through' our bit of land, the
money will set us up quite comfortably ; isn't
our home a happy one, if it is small?' And
oh I John, by and by I"
An eloquent blush—a glance toward her
work-basket, out of which peeped the most
delicate needlework, told the story—that
every new story of innocence, beauty and
helplessness, that bring cares akin to angels'
word.
"For once, Jobn Clarke stopped the 'gos
sips' mouth. He held his head up manfully
—worked steadily at his trade, and every step
seemed a sure advance and •an upward one.
Baby was just six months old when the
corporation paid into John Clarke's hand the
sum of six hundred dollars for the privilege
of laying the track through his one little field.
"A handsome baby, a beautiful and indus
trious wife, and six hundred dollars," thought
John, with an honest exultation, "well this
is living !"
"John," said his wife, rising from her work
" look out."
lle did, and saw the old iprie-horse shay
dragged by a stalwart negro.
"Massa says as how the old barn is gwine
to be pulled down, so he sent your shay," said
the African.
"Thank him for nothing," said John bitter
ly ; but a glance at his wife removed the evil
spirit, and a better one smiled out of his eyes.
" John, you can spare a little money now
to have the old shay fixed up, can't you ?
You ought to according to the will," said
Jenny.
"The old trash !" muttered John.
" But you could at- least sell it for what the
repails would, cost," said Jenny, in her way.
"Yes, I suppose I could."
"Then I'd have it done, and, bless me, I'd
keep it to. You've got a good horse, and
can have the old shay made quite stylish for
baby and me to ride in. Shan't we shine ?"
"Well, I'll send it over to llosmer's to-mor
row, and see what he will do it fur."
"Look here ! Mr. Ilosmer wants you to
come right over to the shop!" shouted the
carriage-maker's apprentice, at the top of his
lungs ; ," old Deacon Joe's there, an' says he's
right down glad—golly, it's hundreds, and
hundreds, and hundreds, and hun—"
" Stop buy ! What in the world does he
mean, Jenny ?" cried John Clarke, putting
the baby in the cradle face downwards.
" My patience, John, look at that child—
precious darling ! I'm sure I don't know,
John. I'd go right over and see," said Jen
ny, by snatches, righting the baby ; "it's his
fun I suppose."
"'Tain't any fun, I tell ye," said'the boy,
while John hurried on his coat and hat; "my
gracious ! guess you'll say it ain't fun when
you conic to see them 'ere gold things and
the bills."
This - added wings to John Clarke's speed,
and in a moment he stood breathless in the
old coachmaker's shop. •
" Wish you joy, my fine feller !" cried Dea
con Joe.
" Look here—what'll you take for that old
shay ? I'll give you Ihur thousand dollars,"
dried the coachthaker in great glee.
" Four thousand 1" cried John, aghast.
"Yes; jest look at it! You're a rich man,
sir ; and 1,3 i George I'm glad of it, for you
deserve to he."
The,earriage-maker shook his hand hear
tily. •
'What do you suppose were the consterna
tion, delight, gratitmle—the wild, wild joy
that filled the heart of Clarke, when be found
the old shay filled with gOld and bank-bills ?
I mean the cushions, the linings, and every
place where they •could be platled without
danger or injury—thieves never would have
conde'seended to the one-horse shay.
Five thousand five hundred dollars in all
Poor John I—or rather rich Jahn—his head
was nearly turned. It required all the bal
ance of Jenny's nice equipoise of character
to keep his ecstatic brain from spinning like
a bminning top. Now- he could build two
louses like the one his uncle had bequeathed
to his red-headed cousin, who bad wished
him joy -when the will was read—the dear
old uncle! What genuine sorrow be felt as
he thought of the many times he had heaped
reproaches upon his memory.
Imagine; if, you can, dear reader, the pecu
liar feelinms of those kind friends who had
prophesied that Johti Clarke would come to
grief. At- first Deacon Joe proposed to take.
the 'old shay jusras it-was—linings stripped,
bits of cloth hanging—and upon a tin trum
pet proclaim the glad tidings to the whole
town, taking especial pains to stop before the
house of Mr. Spriggs, •and blowing loud
enough to drown all the forty-pianos in the
universe ; but that was vetoed by John's kind'
little wife.
" La ! they'll know of it soon enough,"
she said, kissing the baby ; "I wouldn't hurt
their feelings."
They did know it, rind a few years after,
when John Clarke lived in a big house, they
all voted for him to go to the " legislature."
'So much for the old one-horse shay. ,
A good looking Irishman, stopping at
a hotel to warm himself inquired of the land
lord, what was the news?
The landlord disposed to run upon him re
plied,
"They say the devil is dead,"
" An' sure," says Pat, "tluit's news in
dade."
Shortly after, be went up to the bar, laid
dowu some coppers and resumed his seat.
The landlord always ready for a customer,
asked him what he would take.
" Nothing at all," said Pat.
" Why then did you put this money here 2"
" An' sure sir, its the custom in my coun
try, when a chap loses his daddy to give him
a few coppers to help him pay for the wake."
Editor and Proprietor.
NO, 30,
Alp Wife is the Cause of It.
It is not more than forty years ago that
Mr. L. called at the house of Dr. B. one very
cold morning, on his way to 11.
" Sir," said the Dr., ," the weather is very
frosty—will you not take something to drink
before you start ?"
In that early day, ardent spirits were deem
ed indispensable to ,warmth for winter.
When starting on a journey, and at every
stopping place along the road, the traveler
always used intoxicating drinks to keep him
warm.
" No," said Mr. L., " I -never touch -any
thing of the kind—and I s will tell 'you the
reason—my wire is the cause of it! I had
been in the habit of meeting some of my
neighbors every evening, for the purpose of
playing cards. IV e assembled at each other's
shop, and liquors were introduced after while.
We met not so much for the drinking, though
I ,used to return home late in the evening,-
More or loss intoxicated. 'My wife always
met me at the door, affectionately, and when
I chided her fbr sitting up so late for me, she
kindly - replied :
" IS prefer- doing so, for I cannot sleep when
yon are out. 7
" This always troubled me: I wished in
my heart she would begin to scold me, for
then I could have retorted, and thus relieved
my conscience.
and
she always met me with
the same gentle loving spirit:
" Things passed on thus for some time,
when I at once resolved- that I would, by re
maininglate, and returning much intoxica
ted, provoke her so much as to cause her to
lecture me, when I meant to answer her with
severity, and thus, by creating anosher issue
between us, unburden my bosom of its pres
ent trouble.
" I returned in such a plight about four
o'clock in the morning. She met me at the
door, with her usual tenderness, and said :
" Come in, husband; I have just been ma
king a warm fire for you."
" Doctor, that was too much. I could en
dure it no longer, and I resolved from that
moment that I would never touch another
drop as long as I lived, and I never will. It
was a heavy trial of my wife's patience; but
she fairly conquered me."
Ile held to his resolution, and lived and
died practicing total abstinence from all in
toxicating drinks, in a village where intem
perance has ravaged as much as any other
in the State.
That man was my -father, and that woman
my mother. The facts above related I re
ceived from the Doctor himself, while on
visit to my village, not long since.
0 Tar ! The Printer's Christmas'.
" Is the editor within ?"
"Your servant, sir."
" A package. Charges, thirty-eight cents."
Happened to have just the amount. Paid
Expressman, and then, with a nervous hand
proceeded to examine the mysterious box.- -
The cover is removed, when our eyes were
gladdened with the sight of a fine, fat tur.
key. The next thing brought to light was a
bottle of champagne ; and the next and last,
a huge demijohn, marked, " 0 Tar." What
in the world is 0 Tar ! It must mean Old
Tar ; but what in the world induced any one
to send us either old or new Tar ? We
hav'nt got any wagon, and as for getting up
a bonfire for the benefit of the Republicans,
we are not in the humor. We have it. We
will sell it to the Livery man. Called on him,
and he said he did not use Tar, but Breese,
on his wagons. Brought it back to the office,
in not a very good humor still wondering why
it was sent to us. Resolved finally to draw
the cork. Did so. It wasn't Tar. Smelt of
it. Knew by the smell that it wasn't Tar.—
Tasted of it, and became fully satisfied that
it wasn't Tar. Tasted again, and then drew
up a resolution declaring, in the most em
phatic terms, that it wasn't Tar. Tasted
again, and then entered the resolution among
the regular proceedings, to make it sure that it
wasn't Tar. Tasted again, and began to feel
happy. Tasted again, and felt very happy.
Tasted again, and soon became very rich,-and
resolved to ; , ive our cottage to a poor widow,
and purchase the elegant mansion over the way
to donate our office to Jabe, and buy (Mt the
New York Ledger. Gave the 'devil' a .' , 20 goici
piece for Christmas, and promised him around
hundred for New Years. Bought a $5OOO.
pair of nags and a sleigh cushioned with scar
let velvet, and decorated with gold and pearls.
Ordered from the South, a darkey driver an&
postman, whose face shone like a glass bottle
under a direct sunray. Went over to the
"Union" and told Fred. to send every poor
family in town a barrel of Julian Mills Flour,
and nameless other articles to render them
comfortable. Bought all the wood in market
and ordered it sent immediately to the afore
said poor families. Gave each of the Clergy
men in town a thousand dollars—adopted
fourteen orphan girls, and fifteen .orphan
boys—run around and paid all our debts*
(what printer on earth ever done that?)—
kissed (before we thought) a pretty girl who
called to wish us a merry'Christmas (some
body looked unpleasant when this happened)
settled the matter by ordering a thousand
dollar shawl, and a set of furs costing an
equal amount—put on our slippers,
ing that we heard .music,) did bear music,
for somebody came near being kicked out
of bed. Alas ? we had only been dreaming
—Sandy Hill Herald.
'BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT.—When the summer
of, youth is slowly wasting away into the
nightfall of age, and • the shadows of past
years grow deeper and deeper, as if life were
on its elbse, it is pleasant to look back through
the:vista of time_ upon the sorrows and felici
ties of earlier years. If we have a home to
shelter and hearts to rejoice with us, and,
friends have been gathered by our firesides,
the rough places of our wayfaring will have
been worn and smoothed away
.by the twi
light of life; while the sunny'spots we have
passed through will grow brighter and more
beautiful. nappy .indeed are those whose
intercourse with the world has nut changed
the tone of their holier feeling, or broken
those musical chords of the heart, whose vi
brations are so melodious, so touching in the
evening of Age. '
rpEr The ParsOn who'prefaced his sermon
with, "Let us say ai, few words before we be
gm, "'is about equal to the chap who took a
short nap before he ti+•ent to sleep.
rEr An eminent painter was asked what
he mixed his colors with to produce such an
extraordinary effect. "I mix them with'
brains, sir," was his answer.
Zer• " Be content with what you have," as
the rat said to the trap, when ho saw that he
had left part of his tail in it.
Se"' When you have occasion to utter a
rebuke, let your words be soft and your ar
guinen'..s hard.
You had better find out - one Of your ovals
weaknesees than ten of Triur nedgtiblcee