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.ctt.tt Aptrtirp'.
[Published by request of M. E. 0.)
I WOULD NOT DIE IN SPRING-TIIOXE.
I would not dio in spring-time,
When all is bright around,
And fair young flowers are peeping
From out the silent ground,
When life is on the water,
And joy upon the shore ;
For winter, gloomy winter,
Then reigns o'er us no more.
I would not die in summer,
When music's on the breeze,
And soft delirious murmurs
Float ever through the trees,
And fairy birds are singing
From morn 'till close of day—
No, with its transient glories,
I would not pass away.
When breezes leave the mountain,
Its balmy sweets all o'er,
To breathe around the fountain,
And fan our bowers no more;
When summer flowers are dying
Within the lonely glen,
And autumn winds are sighing,
I would not perish then.
But let me die in winter,
When night hangs dark above,
And cold the snow is lying
On bosoms that we love—
Ah may the wind at midnight,
That bloweth from the sea,
Chant mildly, softly, sweetly,
A requiem for me.
s,,:tiett citarys.
THE BROKEN PROMISE.
" "Will you promise me, St. James ?"
" This is a most strange and unaccountable
demand, Lilly. Is it possible that you can
so doubt me—?" Lilly put her snow white
hand, sparkling with rings, with half play
ful vexed motion in his.
" That's not the question at all. My be
trothed husband—the man who is to be hon
ored with this hand, which you will persist
in holding so firmly—don't sqUeeze it so hard,
St. James—must give me his solemn word of
honor that from this moment henceforth. not a
drop of wine shall ever pass his lips. I will
never have my life endangered by that spark
ling serpent.'
"My darling Lilly, you do not discrimi
nate. There is wide difference between the
tiny glass of champagne, taken among a gay
social circle, and the far grosser and more
injurious stimulant, which has become a ne
cessity to the wretched victim of int6mper
an ce."
"I make no distinction," said Lilly Brooke,
firmly. "You do not know, St. James, how
fatal and insidious an enemy is that one
glass of ruby wine ; and in my eyes, one
glass is as obnoxious as ten thousand!"
St. James Effingham drew up his magnifi
cent figure with indignant pride. " I under
stand what you mean, Lilly," he said ; "hut,
believe me, there is no danger. Do you give
me no credit for no self-control—and no judg
ment whatever? I should despise mvself,"
he exclaimed in a tone of unutterable hau
teur, " did I not know when to stop."
"Do you promise ?" Lilly simply re-
plied.
" You show little confidence in the moral
strength of judgment of him who is to be
your future husband," said St. James, much
piqued.
"Dear St. James," said Lilly, pleadingly,
as she drew nearer to him, with a soft tinge
of crimson on her cheeks, " do not let us dis
pute longer on the subject. Only promise
me, dearest."
" Well, then," said Effingham. smiling in
voluntarily, although he had resolved to be
very stern, "I promise, you provoking little
witch ! are you satisfied now ?"
" On your solemn word of honor ?"
"On my solemn word of honor."
Lilly was so smiling and radiant, her hap
py triumph at having carried her point, that
St. James stooped his tall head to kiss hor
bright lips, and secretly thought : " What a
happy dog I am to call this beautiful little
creature my own !" No sacrifice whatever,
could be too great to lay at the shrine of her
perepmtory little will, and so Mr. Effingham
thought.
And who will venture to blame Lilly for
thinking, as she stood at the satin-draped
windows, watching her departing lover, that
he was the noblest and handsomest man in
the whole world ! Do not all maidens think
ito at the same time of their lives ?
" A glass of wine, Effingham my boy ?"
queried young Altanuount, as Effingham
stopped at his room at the St. Nicholas, that
same afternoon.
,‘ No," said St. James, carelessly , putting
aside the tiny acorn shell of cut and gilded
glass, which was proffered to him, "I dont
care for it, I thank you,"
"No!" exclaimed Altamount, arching his
eye in extreme surprise.
" No," returned Effingham, somewhat em
barrassed. " The truth is, that not one half
hour ago, I promised my - wife, that is to be,
never again to drink a glass of wine, and I
must keep my promise."
"0, No!" said Altamount, laughing. "So
you begin to feel already the galling yoke of
Hymen in spite of the flowers that cover it 1
What tyrants these women are !"
St. James made some slight reply, but in
his secret heart he was irritated, both with
himself and Lilly. Perhaps he thought she
had been arbitrary and unreasonable.
Beyond all question, the handsomest couple
at Mrs. Granger's grand soiree that night
were St, James Effingham and Lilian Brooke,
and many an envying and admiring glance
was cast on them as they passed in the
crowd. Love, youth, Wealth and beauty—
every circumstance was tinged with the
brightest coleur de rose for their young eyes.
While they were standing together in alcove
full of blossoming myrtles and creamy roses,
reposing from the fatigues of a brilliant waltz,
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL, XV.
Dame Gossip in the refreshment saloons was
busy about their affairs.
" Where are that devoted couple, Effing
ham and Miss Brooke?" inquired Bell Stan
ley, a dashing young coquette, who, rumor
whispered, had been intensely disappointed
at losing the brilliant Effingham for her
self.
" Oh, talking sentiment somewhere," re
plied Mr. Altamount, who was helping her
to Charlotte de Russo. "By the way, I must
tell you something glorious about St. James.
Would you believe that his inamorata has
exacted the solemn promise from him, never
again to touch wine ?"
" You don't tell me so ?" said Bell in sur
prise.
"It's a fact—l heard it from St. James
himself."
"What a fool !" said Bell. curving her
scarlet lip contemptuously. "I'll wager that
I make him break his promise before an hoar
has elapsed."
" Hush, here he comes," said Altamount,
as Effingham entered the room, on some mis
sion from Lilly. Bell's large eastern eyes
were bent fully on his face, and he could not
help pausing to exchange a gay word or two
as he passed her. She instantaneously as
sailed him with reproaches for his neglect of
her during the whole evening.
"Don't you think I ought to inflict some
severe pennace upon you ?"
" I trust you will not be too severe," he
gaily replied, " I am sensible of my error."
" Then," she murmured, with a softened
lustre in her sparkling eyes, " we will seal
your pardon with a glass of champagne."
" Anything but that, Miss Stanley," he
stammered.
" Then it is true," said Bell, contemptu
ously. " Your betrothed cannot trust you
without promises—a fine sample of the petti
coat government you are hereafter to be fa
vored with."
Mr. Effingham made no reply. He felt
himself in rather an embarrassing situation
and he heartily execrated that annonymous
prom ise.
"Just one glass," pleaded his lovely temp
tress, as he still hesitated.
yuu are an absolute savage, St. Jamns,"
said Altamount, "to refuse it from such a
band."
Alas! how easy it is to In that
single moment of uncertainty S. was
lost. He took the one sparkling glass from
the dark-eyed Circe, and in an instant the
small visible harrier erected to stem the tides
of his fatal proclivity, was swept away.
As'he placed the empty champagne glass
on the table, his started vision met the
grieved, reproachful gaze of Lillian Brooke's
deep blue eyes. She had entered a moment
since, and now stood at his side, like a guar
dian angel. But he,felt that Bell's scorching
glance was on his every action, and reckless
ly exclaimed :
" You will pledge me, also, Lilly ? Nay,
do not look so grave; surely a hasty promise
is boiler in the breach than in the obser
vance."
But she had turned from him and glided
silently from the room ere he could follow.—
Sad and bitter were her reflections, as she sat
in her own luxurious chamber at home. The
red glow of the clear fire in the grate and the
moonlight radiance of a single perfumed ta
per, burning through the transparent urn of
an alabaster lamp, fell on a troubled brow
and tearful eyes. Poor Lilly ; the wreath of
scarlet ; rose-buds in her hair were not yet
withered, the diamonds were yet flashing on
her breast, yet the sweet blossoms of hope
were dead forever.
Her sorrowful resolution was soon taken.
She felt that she could never place all the
wife's confidence in one whose resolves were
so feeble—so easily broken. She knew that
wine was her rival ; that when a solemn
promise was thus unheeded all the restraints
of prudence or distruction would be of little
avail. And so, although it was like the tear
ing asunder of soul and body she laid her
dead and buried love in the sad mausoleum
of the past, never to rise again.
It was a mournful night. The perfumed
light waned low, flickered into darkness, the
bright fire died out into ashy chillness and
gloom, and still she sat there, her fair young
head drooping, round snowy arm, all uncon
scious of the progress of time. And when
the cold gray lights of dawn began to pene
trate the silken curtain of the casement, she
felt that the life was past.
" Mr Effingham is below, ma'am," said a
servant, the next noon, as Lilly sat, pale and
exhausted, in her apartment, " shall I say
you are not well ?"
" Tell him," said Lilly—" I will write a
message." And she hastily inscribed on a
card the following words :
" The broken promise of last night has
placed an impassible gulf between us. Here
after, our paths through life lie in far differ
ent directions, for I cannot trust one who is
false . to himself. Farewell, forever. •
St. James read the fatal sentence with a
sinking heart; yet in spite of an accusing
conscience, he strove to think himself ag
grieved. " Woman's caprice!" he muttered
fiercely. " I was a fool ever to trust my hap-
piness in her keeping. However, this freak
will not last long, and, for the present, if my
presence is so disagreeable, she shall not be
troubled with it."
He left the house, and the estranged lovers
never met again.
Years passed by, Lilly's health, which had
began to fail from the excitement and dis
tress of mind, was finally restored on the
change of air and scene consequent on remo
val to another city. Gradually the deep scars
of her sorrow healed up; gradually the mem
ory of Effingham became like a distant dream.
She wedded one in some respects worthy of her
gentle virtues and in the happy occupations
of wife and mother, forgot the early incidents
of her early girlhood.
Meanwhile Effingham had wasted his fine
fortune by a course of reckless extravagance
and dissipation, and gradually sinking from
his position in society, had become a mere
wreck of his former self. He also had left
his native city, and for years his name was
;44
cst--
sk-zir
V'
never mentioned among those who had been
once his friends and associates.
It was late on a bitter February night, that
Lilly Brooke, now Mrs. Woodham, welcomed
her husband to his cheerful fireside, whose
home comfort seemed to have assumed its
brightest guise. No marvel 'that Dr. Wood
ham experienced a feeling of relief and pleas
ure as he threw off his snowy outer garments
and looked upon his beautiful wife and little
ones, gathered around the glowing hearth
stone.
"But why are you so late?" inquired Lil
ly, "you surely keep much better hours than
this."
" I know it," he said, moving the easy arm
chair yet nearer the blaze, " but to-night just
as I was starting for home, I was summoned
to the hospital to attend a wretch just brought
thither. So, to the hospital I went, although
after all, I was unable to be of any use to the
poor fellow, who was dying when I arrived."
" What was the matter ?" inquired Mrs.
Wood ham.
" Why, it was a bad, case of delirium tre
mens; but I think that long exposure to this
bitter weather was the more immediate cause,
acting upon an underminded constitution.—
It was one of the saddest examples of intem
perance I ever saw—the unfortunate man
raved wildly and unconnectedly, yet in lan
guage which led me to suspect him to have
been ordinarily far above common class of
drunkards. But he was delirious up to the
very moment of his death. He must have
been a splendid looking fellow once, I never
saw a finer head or nobler features even
though intemperance had left its stamp every
where.
"Could you not ascertain who he was?"
" We found his name on a few memoranda
on his person, after death—what was it now ?
Strange that I should forget, for I remember
at the time being impressed with the idea
that it was rather an unusual and romantic
name. 0! I have it now. It was Effingham
—St. James Effingham."
A sudden pang shot through Lilly's heart
as her husband spoke the words; but it was
no sorrowing affection for the dead man—
merely a tribute of memory to the beautiful
being of other days, to her had been long a
corpse in the burial vaults of the past. And
she drew nearer to her husband's manly form,
a silent thanksgiving went up from the depths
of her soul that she had been blessed with
his deep love and tenderness, that life instead
of being irrevocably linked to the stormy ex
istence and dark fate of him who had that
night passed into eternity.
" My darling wife." said Woodham, " I
have made you sad with this professional re
cital I"
" No," she said tenderly, laying her cheek
against his shoulder, " I was only thanking
heaven that our lives have been so bright
while so many around are wretched."
Meanwhile the wintry blast wailed sadly
and wildly around the lonelY . room where lay
the ice-cold corpse of St. James Effingham,
another victim of the monster Intemperance.
One evening as the wind was raging and
howling with terrific force, shaking the house.
and making timid people tremble fur fear of
fire or other accidents that might befal them,
a number of grown persons were complain
ing of the wakeful and restless nights they
had endured during the recent winter storms.
A little boy who had listened unalarmed,
with a sweet beaming trust in his face, said
in his turn, " I sleep so well and sound be
cause I've got such a good father. I know
he would not let anything happen to me. If
the house should catch fire, he would take me
right up in his arms and run down stairs with
me and I'd be safe."
This went to my heart, and rebuked the
fears of those who tremble and toss upon
restless pillows, when he w 1 holds the wind
in his fist is their Father and friend. The re
mark of that dear boy has taught me a lesson
which I hope to remember. When Igo to
his bedside, after he has been asleep for
hours, and see his ruddy cheeks and cluster
ing ringlets, and watch his peaceful, inno
cent expression, and listen to his gentle breath
ing knowing, as well as I do, that he is a
timid child, often flying with fear from trifling
causes of
p larm, then I feel how deep and
pervading must be his trust in a father's lov
ing heart and strong arms, to cause and such
dreamless slumbers amid howling winds and
storms. Can not the experienced Chris
tian learn a lesson even from a babe's lips?
Ought we not to rest peacefully amid causes
of alarm, because we " have got such a good
Father ?"
Happy is the man who has a litttlo home,
and a little angel in it, of a Saturday night.
A house, no matter how little, provided it
will hold two or so—no matter how humbly
furnished, provided there is hope in it; let
the winds blow—close the curtains.
LILLY."
- What if they are calico, or plain white
border, tassel, or any such thing? Let the
rains comedown ; heap up the fire. No mat
ter if you havn't a candle to bless yourself
with, for what a beautiful light glowing coal
makes, rendering clouding, shedding a sun
set through the room ; just enough to talk
by, not loud, as in the highways ; not rapid,
as in the hurrying world, but softly, slowly,
whisperingly, with pauses between, for the
storm without and the thoughts within to fill
up.
Then'wheel the sofa, round before the fire;
no matter if the sofa is a settee, uncushioned
at that, if so be it is just long enough for two
and a half in it. How sweetly the music of
silver bells from the time to come falls on the
listening heart then. How mournfully swell
the chimes of "the days that are no more."
Under such circumstances, and at such a
time one can get at least sixty-nine and a
half statute miles nearer "kingdom come"
than any other point in this world laid-down
rn `•` Malte Brun."
Maybe you smile at this picture ; but there
is a secret between us, viz : it is a copy of a
picture, rudely done, but true, of the Penta
teuch of an original in every human heart.
HUNTINGDON, PA.
A "Good Father."
some and Wife.
-PERSEVERE.-
FEBRUARY 29, 1860,
Mode of Taking the Census
The following account of the method adop
ted in taking the census of the United States,
we copy from an address made by Mr. Ken
nedy, Superintendent of the Census, before
the Amerioan Geographical and Statistical
Society in New York, on the Ist inst., which,
at the present time, will be read with inter
est:
The General Government has in each State
and Territory one or more judicial districts,
with each of which is connected a Mar Alla!,
who acts as the high sheriff in the District
Court of the United States.
These Marshals are required by law to
subdivide their districts, and each subdivision
to appoint an assistant—taking care not to
include a greater population (by estimate)
than 20,000 in any one subdivision.
The Assistants having qualified, by oath,
for the proper performances of their duties,
are furnished, through the Marshals with
blanks and instructions.
In the prosecution of * their work, they are
required to make two copies of their work.—
The original returns are filed with the clerk
of the court of each county, and the copies
are forwarded to the Marshal, who transmits
one copy to the Secretary of the State for his
district, and the other to the Census Office in
Washington. The compensation to the Mar
shal is in proportion to t,he population enu
merated by hioAssistants, should that exceed
one million, he is paid one dollar for each
thousand persons enumerated, should the pop
ulation returned by his Assistants be less
than one million, he receives the sum of one
dollar and twenty-five cents for each one
thousand persons returned, a system of com
pensation sufficiently moderate, but which
may admit of the payment of a greater
amount for a lesser service, as in the case of
a Marshal, whose returns include 950.000
persons, at one dollar and twenty-five cents
per thousand persons, no more than he whose
returns do not exceed a million—an inequal
ity not unusual in rating fees for mileage and
other services.
The Assistants who perform the work of
enumeration, are paid on a different princi
ple, combining in a novel manner compensa
tion for travel and labor, one which was found
to operate very fairly and satisfactorily to the
Government, his allowance is two cents for
each person enumerated, for each form ten
cents, for each establishment of productive
industry, fifteen cents, for social statistics two
per centum on amount allowed for enumera
ting the population, and two cents for each
mortality return, with ten cents per mile for
traveling expenses, to be ascertained by mul
tiplying the square root of the number of
dwelling houses in his district, by the square
rout as the number of square miles in his
division, the product whereof is to be derived
from the number of miles traveled, and eight
cents per page for the two copies.
The Marshals and Assistants in California,
Oregon, Utah and New Mexico, under an op
eration of an amendment to the law, received
compensation at the discretion of the Secre
tary of the Interior, which was determined
by the addition of 100 per cent.
We are not given much to sensation arti
cles, but occasionally a remarkable thing will
come under our notice, and it would be a in
to keep it from the public. We cannot vouch
for the truth of the following story, told us
this morning by an old sucker, but venture
to say that such things have been heard of
before. (in the Arabian Night's Entertain
ments) :
"It is just twenty years ago that a party
of us fellers went over to Cahokia Creek on
a skating match. The day was colder than
ten icebergs stuck •together, but the ice was
smooth as glass, and we made up our minds
to have a heap of fun. Bill Berry was the
leader of the crowd. Ile was a tall six-footer,
full of pluck, and the best skater in all crea
tion. Give Bill Berry a good pair of skates,
and smooth sailing, and he'd make the trip
to Baffin's Bay and back in twenty-four hours,
only stopping long enough to take a drink.
Well we got to the creek and fastened our
skates on ; and after taking a giod horn out
of Joe Turner's flask, started off in good style
with Bill Berry in the lead. As I was tellin
you it was a dog-onned cold day, and we had
to skate fast to keep the blood up. There
was little breathe holes in the ice, and every
now and then we would come near gain' into
'em. My skates got loose and I stopped to
fasten 'em. Just as I had finished buckling'
the straps I heard a noise. I looked up and
saw something shooting along the ice like
lightning. It was Bill Berry's bead. He
had been going it like greased electricity, and
before he knew it he was into one of them
cussed holes. The force was so great as to
cut his head off against the sharp corners of
the ice. " It's all day with Bill Berry,' said
; " and all night too," said Joe Turner.—
Just as he got these words out of his mouth,
1 looked at Bill's head, which had been going
it on the ice, and all at once it dropped into
another hole. We run to it and I heard Bill
Berry say, " For God's sake, boys, pull me
out I" I looked into the hole, and there as
sure as I'm a sinner, was Bill Berry's body
which had shot along under the ice, and met
the head at the hole in the ice. It was so
thunderin' cold that the head froze fast to the
body, and we pulled Billy out as good as new.
He felt a little numb at first, but after• skating
a while he was as brisk as the rest of us, and
laughen over the joke. We went home about
dark, all satisfied with our day's sport. About
nine o'clock in the evening, somebody knock
ed at my door, and said I was wanted over
at Bill Berry's. I put on my hat and Went
over. There lay Bill's body in one place and
his head in another. His wife said that after
he came home from skating, he sat down by
the fire to warm. himself, and while attempt
ing to blow his nose ho throw his head into
the tire place.
The coroner was called that night, and the
verdict of the jury was that `Bill Berry came
to his death by skating too fast."
gar Why was Adam's wife called Eve ?
Because, when she appeared, man's day of
happiness was drawing to a close.
i . .
0,
t
.g . .i.. , . I A --, -4k...
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.f. ; z:,... Iw . . :„..
f. - ,,_::• p., ift.
/te
•'.' 4.';. , -AP -. Dr:
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A. Story as is a Story
61
Been out all night again. I'd like to know
where you keep yourself till this'time in the
morning; it is not ten minutes since I heard
the clock strike four. You didn't hear it.—
No, of course you didn't. You wouldn't hear
the last trump—the noise would have to travel
through an acre or two of German beer be
fore it would get to your hearing. Had to
go among your German friends? Had to go ;
I'd like to know how you had to go. Some
folks are dreadful willing to "had" to go.—
Yes I know it's coming on election times;
that's a good excuse to get away from your
family and home. I wish there was no elec
tion in the whole country—it would be much
better off if we hadn't any. What did you
do all night long? Who did you elect?—
Who did you see ? Theatre and dance. Now
turn over here. Oh, Lord ! am I in a hop
yard of a distillery, or where am I? What
haiie you got outside of you? Didn't drink
much. You must have got into a beer barrel
then, for it's coming out all over you, and
how it smells!
You danced, eh ? You must have cut a
pretty figure—guess 'twas a lager beer reel.
Do you think I'll stand this going off to a
dance all night? Who did you dance with ?
I'll bet she was as homely as a pumpkin with
two holes in it.
Look here, you needn't pretend sleep ; I
want to have a little domestic conversation
with you. I'm your better half, and your
better half proposes to discuss matters a little.
Late ? How do you know it's late. It's ear
ly enough to give you a piece of a woman's
tongue. Tonguey ? Yes, I am tonguey—
that's part of a woman's prerogative, and
I'm going to use some of it on you. Let you
alone ?
Did you say that to the girl you danced
with ? Oh, no ! nothing of the sort ; it was,
" Miss, shall I have the pleasure of your very
beautiful person for the next cotillion ?"
wish I could see her—l'd take the beautiful
out of her at a jerk. Can get no peace?—
Yes, you can get plenty of it—go to the thea
tre ; go electioneering ; dance with the Dutch
girls till morning ; and come home and I'll
give you peace by the long measure—l'll give
you a piece of my mind. Come hack here,
where are you going? Get into another bed ?
Not exactly ; this has been large enough here
tofore and has not grown any smaller lately.
You danced did you ? I'd like to see you
dance with me. I'm too old I suppose. I
ain't too old to give you fits.
CLOSED FOR REPAIRS. —A good one is told of
old Judge L—. His honor kept a demi
john of good old Jamaica in his private office
for his own comfort and the entertainment of
his particular friends. The judge had no
ticed for some time that on Monday morning
his Jamaica was considerably lighter than he
left it on Saturday nights. Another fact had
gradually established itself in his mind, His
son Sam was missing from the paternal pew
in church on Sundays. One Sunday after
noon Sam came in and went up stairs rather
heavily, when the Jtl,re hailed him :
" Sam. where have you been ?"
To church, sir." was the prompt reply.
" What church. Sam ?"
" SQ,!orld Methodist, sir."
" [fall a good sermon, Sam?"
" Very powerful, sir ; it quite staggered
me. sir."
" Ah I I g". " said the Judge, "quite pow
erful. eh, Sam ?"
The next Sunday the son come home rath
er earlier than usual, and apparently not so
much "under the weather." Ills father
h a iled him with
" IVOII. Sam, been to the Second Methodist
again to-clay ?"
" yes, sir."
" Good sermon, my boy ?"
" Fact was, father, that I couldn't get in ;
church shut up and a ticket on the door."
" Sarry, Sam, keep going _you may get
good by it yet."
Sam says on going to the office for his usu
al spirit-ual refreshment, he found the 'John'
empty, and bearing the following; " There
will be no service here to-day, this church be
ing closed for repairs !"
A YANKEE BIBLICIST.—Standing for mo
ment, the other day, at that paradise of gen
teel loafers, the Bank Exchange corner, who
should come along but " Old Slapjacks!"—
Stradling himself, as if to monopolize the
small remnant of sidewalk between the sta
tionary crowd and the curbstone, he com
menced upon politics—anathemized the ad
ministration, and was " gol darned if we don't
have a colored President in less than ten
years—as black as the ten spot of spades ;
for," said he, " the time is already at band
when there ain't no distinction to be made
between color of skin, head-vegetation, nor
ancestry." He built his arguments upon
high "and dry moral grounds, having a reli
gious slope, and quoted Scripture like the
d-11 At his first breathing-point, I re
marked :
" Why, Slaps, you appear to bo as well
posted in Bible literature as you are in a game
of old sledge."
"Je-hosh-e-phat 1 guess I know it all. Can
begin at Genesis, go right through Job and
Esther, dive into David, clean out Solomon
and his pumpkin vines, stir up the Evange
lists, pitch into Paul, and his five-act play of
the Romans, and clarify the Revelations
clearer than rectified cider 1"
" Do you think you could hold your own
with Dr. Scott ?"
" I don't know anything about your Dr.
Scott ; but you know Parson Basset, don't
ver? 'Wall he's a floss and a half ; but I can
just give him the First Book of Kings, and
skunk him like whittling ?"
SERVED HER RICTIT.—A fashionable young
lady, a few days since, went into a store in
Norfold, Va., and after a thorough examina
tion of its contents, bought a dime's worth of
thread, which she ordered to be sent to her
residence, over a mile distant. The proprie
tor procured an express wagon, the driver of
which took the package, backed up to the
door, lowered the tail board, delivered the
package, and collected fteen cents, the usual
charge.
Editor and Proprietor.
NO- 36,
Curtain Lecture
A Light Heart
There is much truth in the remark that the
philosophy of many men originates in their
livers; Those dark views of human nature
and human life 'which ordinarily pass for ex
alted wisdom, proceed from a deceased body
or diseased mind. The man who retires from
society and professes to have found all its
pleasure, vanity, and vexation of spirit, would
speak more truthfully if he confessed that,
from sore derangement of his organism he
had lost his capacity for enjoyment., The
lights of the ball-room are just as brilliant,
the dresses as splendid, the confectionery as
sweet, the music as delicious as when each of
these contributed to his delight. He has
changed, and he thence concludes that they
are hollow and joyless as they appear to him.
He cannot bring himself to believe that they
ever did affbrd..him sincere enjoyment. Look
ing back over his past life, his morbid fancy
tinges all with its own sombre hue. He
repines at his existence, and quotes very
gloomily :
Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen.
Count o'er the days from anguish free,,
And know whatever thou host been,
'Tis something better not to be."
There is no wisdom in all this. True wis
dom does not look upon this world as either
a paradise or a purgatory. its maxim is to
enjoy the present, if it be bright, to endure it
if it be gloomy. So far from attempting to
show its superiority by finding good in noth
ing, that it never complains. When misfor
tune comes it never succumbs at the first ap
proach and sinks into hopPless despondency;
but with a light, elastic buoyance, it makes
an unyielding resistance, and breaks all the
force of the attack.
Ah ! a fine thing in this world of trial and
sorrow, is a light hopeful heart. It alone
possesses the stoutness which will carry one
through difficulties, afflictions• and persecu•
tions ; it can climb mountains, penetrate des
erts, and brave the storm• tossed ocean ; it car%
endure all the hardships of the camp, and
march unfalteringly with the forlorn hope to
the cannon's mouth. When the proud man
is humbled, and the strong man has failed,
he of light heart gill remain, unfearing and
unhurt, triumphant over every obstacle, supe
rior to every difficulty.
The Stranger's Wish
Young and gentle art thou for whom the
stranger breathes his fervent wish, and in
thy soul are clustered pure thoughts and holy
purposes and thy heart is filled with visions
of future joys, that brighten with every touch
of thy gulden fancy.
To the broad highway of life, that stretch
eth to the grave and endeth in eternity, is
stored with happiness, and a thousand forms
of varied beauty glitter upon its radiant sur
face.
Lofty and virtuous are thy sentiments, and
thy feelings gush forth in all the warmth of
youth and innocence, untaught in the gloomy
sorrows that darken the spirits of our race.
And thou art about to go forth into the
mighty world, where a thousand charms may
circle thee about, or rude adversity greet thy
coming with its chilly hand.
That it may not sink into thy gentle soul
to freeze its generous sympathies—to poison
its springs of joy and sicken it of earth's
scenes, is the prayer of him, who never ut
tered one more pure and holy, than he now
murmurs for thy happiness. But,should thy
destiny decree that thou must endure life':
sorrows, may they visit thee in thy tender,
ness, and fall lightly upon thy fair and youth
ful brow, may they deal gently with the
roses on thy cheek, and dim not the lustre of
thy soul-lit eyes. May they leave thy form
its fullness—thy step its elasticity--,thy voice
its sweetness—thy smile its joy.
May the partner of thy life possess e. no
ble soul, a brilliant intellect, a generous na
ture and a loving heart. May he love thee
with more than woman's fervor, and cherish
thee more fondly, as the storms of life gather
about thy path.
Go IN LADIES I—On and after the 29th of
Fehroary inst.. the la:d:es will be fully au
thorized to commence making love to any
gentleman they may deem worthy of, their
hands, hearts and fortunes, this year is called
leap year, because it is the lady's privilege to
" leap" into the arms of the man she fancies.
To prove this, we quote from an old work,
printed in 1660, entitled " Courtship, Love
and Matrimonie." In the chapter entitled
" When ye girls shall sparke ye menne," the
learned author thus speaks;
"Albeit, it is nowea part of ye Common
Lawe in regard to ye social relations of life,
that as often as every besextile year cloth re
turn, ye ladies have ye sole privilege during
the whole time it continued], of milting love
unto ye men, which they may do either by
words or looks, as unto them it seemeth prop
er; and moreover, no man will be entitled
to ye benefit of clergy who doth refuse to ac
cept ye offer of a ladie, or who cloth in any
wise treat . her proposal with slight or con
tumely."
Therefore, ladies, you must comply with
the law, and bringing your captives up to
the alter, allow them the benefit of the clergy.
WOIAN 7 S ADVANTAGES.—Some of the ad
vantages of women over men are as fol-
lows
A woman can say what she chooses with
out being knocked down for it,
She can take a snooze after dinner while
her husband goes to/work.
She can go into the street without being
asked to treat at every saloon.
She can paint her face if it is too pale, and
powder if it is too red.
She can stay at home in time of war,
and can get married again if her husband is
killed.
She can wear corsets if too thickzz-ettier
fmins if too thin.
She can eat, drink and be merry, without
costing her a cent.
She can get divorced from her husband
whenever she sees one she likes better.
She can get her husband in debt all over,
until he warns the public by advertisements
not to trust her on his account.
THE On AMMON" SwimmEa.—A Sandwich
Island boy recently deserted the whale-ship
Franklin when twenty miles at sea, jumping
overboard about eight o'clock at night,
and swimming all night for the land. By
daylight he was within half a mile of shore,
but there encountered a strong opposing cur
rent, and after buffeting the waves in a vain
effort to reach the beach, he saw a sail sever
al miles to the leeward, changed his course
for the vessel, striking opt to sea again, and
was on her deck by nine o'clock Friday morn
ing, nothing harmed by his fourteen hours'
swim.
s!i• A very clever conundrum - was that
which took a prize in Philadelphia some
years since : In what manner did Capt. May
cheat the Mexicans? He charged them with
a troop of horses which they never got,