< ‘7^' t BYiOHNB BRATTON YOL. 38. Doetual. Por the American Volunteer. \viEj NOT Von. THE HAPPT DEAD I There is a home where mortals rest. Far. far beyond this glittering sphere: Wliero friend meola fttond—and all ere bleat— Whore sorrow never wakes a tear. 'Tis there the weary And repose,' A pillow for the aching head— Par, (hr from earth and all Its.woes. O, weep not for tho happy dead I .Who, who would wish thorn back again, To drain the cap'of worldly grief, To tread the path, onduro tho pain, From which they find a sweet relief 7 Bofl bo their rest beneath tho turf - That gently wraps thoir mouldering clay. Wo would not wish thorn back to earth, - Again to tread life's thorny way. All. no 1 we would not, if wo could ‘ Dissolve their deep ami dreamless sleep; -And bid tliem stand where onco they stood, . Again to sigh, again to weep. but still, the burning tear will start, While bonding o'er their sileht urn, And sorrow’s shade combs o’er the heart. To think they never can return. Yet. oh! It is a pleasing thought. And one that calms the troubled breast— To know there is an Eden spot, Where they have found eternal rest. Carlisle, July 3.1651. . . J. M, MV BOYHOOD’S HOME, BT ERNEST 11. WALTOK. Bring back my boyhood’s golden hours . From the treasury of the past; Oh linger nigh I life’s first Spring flowers, . That faded Tore tho blast; The rocky cllfT, the hill and glen, -. The Joy and laughter tree; I would l.wero a boy again— O bring (hem back to mo.' Bring back my early childhood's home— The altar and the hearth, The song of praise—devotion’s tone— ' The Joy’d that fled from earth; The days that flitted by so fast, '■. Life's stroamlct tq its sea, Which lio deep buried In the Past— . Oh bring them back to mb, .In Fahey's realms, 1 wander still Uy my boyhood's cherish’d home, And gather flow’rs by brook or rill, " And over woodlands roam; Oli linger riigli)'though visions dim And shadows faint ye be, Tho’ tilled life’s chalice to the brim, Yet bring them back to me I MV GIRLHOOD’S HOME. DV BUILT a. MAOAOlirr. Bring back the days, the sunny hours. Of girlhood's thoughtless glee; Tho.placid stream, the opening flowers— Oh bring them back to me. Tho noontide walks. tho hallowed eve, The lovod, the lost—that brow On which love sat like sunset’s leave— OU bring them back to me now. Where Is my home—my alrlhood’s homo i v -,- • . Of sweetness? Ha* ii fled 7 * .Alas.’tisgonu; the Joyous tone ' Of its lived cadence dead. • Bring mb the happy scenes, which there Passed like a summer's dream. The soft’ning tints of memory, t Bro sorrow o'er mo came. Ohf let madnam I too it still, . With bird and sun and fluwor; • 'Twill serve to soothe a treasured will In this sad trying hdur. ' Home of my youth—farewell, farewclll . Opto I did hall your glee; .Painful as is the bosom’s swell— , Oh bring it still to mo. JWttotceUatwom OBEYING ORDERS* .The “ oldest inhabitant” perfectly remembers (he Widow Traitor, who used many years ago, to occupy a small wooden houso awuy down in Hunover aired, in somewhat close proximity to Salutation ,alley Well, this widow was blessed with a son, who, like Goldsmith, and, many, other men distinguished in •f\6r life, was "the dunco of bis class. Numerous wore the floggings which his stupidity brought upon him, and the road to knowledge was with him truly « M vale .of tears." * Ose day ho esmo homo as usual with rod eyes and bands. 41 Oh you blockhead 1" screamed his mother—she was a bil of a virago, Mrs. Trotter was— •* you've ben goltin' another iiokin* 1 know." “O, yoa," replied young Mr. Trotter; that’s one uv the rog’lar exorcises—lioken* me, ’Arler I’ve licked Trotter," says the master " I'll hoar the *riih« malic class." But mother to-change the subject, nS the criminal said when ho found the Judge was got. ting personal, is there onny arrant l oan do for you!" "Yes," grumbled the widow; “ only you’re so slow about anything you undertake—go got a pitcher of water, and be four years about il; will yo." Dob Trotter took the pitcher and wended his way in direction of the street pump; but ho had’nt got far, whvnho encountered Joe Buffer, the mate* of a vessel, issuing from his house, and dragging a heavy sea chest along uflsr him. " Com« v Bob," said Joe, boar a hand and help mo down to Long Wharf with this. > "Well, so 1 would," said Bob, "only you see sent mq after a pitcher of water." do,-you osro for your mother—she don't tlrt.fi? -, ou - c »"‘“ “ lon e-" . t .ald Uob, "first Ist me hide the pltohor nl;, o ('and' it 6([»in." IVii/iVto c lf * atwor( ' a ho slowed away his earthen* •uc tin'll flight of alone steps, and accompanied hi, aboard ship. Tho pilot was urging the ci^ a i off and take advantage of the wind captain was waiting the arrival of t L. aliened tho day before, and wishing *c 9 |LJRn to lila eyes for tho delay ho had occasioned. ■ turned to Bob and said— ■ jePwhal do you say, youngster, to shipping wilh too ? I'll treat you well and give you ten dollars a month." ... « Should like to go," Bald' Dob, hsqllatlngly,.** but my mother— “ Hang your mother, 11 said the captain, “ sho*U bb 1 glad to gel rid of you. Como, will you go 7” * ‘fJUoinlno clothes.” / ••Hero's a cheat full. The other chap was jaat . your size, and tboy will fit you lo a T.” “Ml go.” •. { ' 11 Cast off that lino thoro I” shouted the captain, fcnd'tho ship fell off with tho tide, and was soon standing down tho bay with fair wind, and every stllbh ofcanvass sot. Sho was bound for tho North west via Canton and back again, which wao then called .the double voyage, and usually occupied about Iburyiars. . ■ Iff tho meanwhile, tho non-appearance of Dob ■criouMy alarmed his mother* A night passed, and ;Jhe (own crier was called Into requisition a week, iWhdn sho' gavo him up, had a note road to her in , jhicolinp. and went into mourning. four years alter those occurrences, tho ship t trot back to Dob and his friend wero paid IV* Tho : wages of tho widow's son amounted to just uff 'hundred and eighty dollars, and ho found, on uaringjiis acCphule w Ith tho captain, that hia ad • vaneijaSad amounted to tho odd tons, artd four hun* . tired phUM clear, wore tho fruits of his long cruise. ' S Aa' I ho,>X*lkQd in the direction of hla mother's house, in.compa'ny with Joe, ho soannod with.a cu rious oyd, tho houses, tho shops, and people that ho passed- Nothing appeared changed; the eamo signs Indicated an unchanging hospitality on the part of] the same landlords, tho samo loafers wore standing on tho samo corners—it seemed as If ho had only! been gone a day. With old sights andsounds, Bob’s bid feelings revived, and ho almost dreaded to see debouching from'some alloy, a detachment of boys, sent by' his ancient oooiny,.iho. school master, to carry him back to receive the customary walloping. When ho waif quite nbar hotae, ho said,- “ Joe, 1 wonder if onybody’s found that old pUoh- or.” ' Ho stooped down, thrust his hand- under the stone slops aiid withdrew tho identical piece of 'earthen ware ho had deposited; there just four years ago.— Having rinsed and filled it at tho pump, ho walked Into his mother’s house, and found hor seated in her accustomed arm chair. She looked "at him for a minute, recognized him, serpamod, and exclaimed t “Why, Bob! whore have yoa becn? What have you been doing?” 1 “Gcllin’ that pitcher pf water,” answered Bob, spiting It on the table; I always obey orders—you told mo to bo four years about.U; and 1 was.” VICTIMS OF SOIDNCEi . Some years since (hero appeared on the beards of a Parisian Theatre on excellent and much applauded comie aoior, named Samuel.. Like many.a Wiser man before him, ho fell deeply in love with a beau tiful girl, and wrote to offer her hia hand, heart and his yearly salary of 8000 francs. A flat refusal was returned. Poor Samuel rivalled his comrade, the head tragedian of tho company, in his dolorous ex* presslons of despair, but when, after a time his ox. citomeut cooled down, he dispatched a friend, si (rusty envoy, with a commission to try and soften the.hard hearted beauty. Alas, it was In vain! “Sbo does not like you/’ said the candid ambas* sador; "she says you are ugly; that your eyes frighten her; and,besides,she is about to bo married to a young man whom she loves." Fresh exclamations of despair from Samuel. "Come," said his friend, after musing for a .while, “if this marriage bo as 1 suspect, all a sham, you may have her yot." “ Explain'yoursolf." “You know that,not to mind tho matter, you have' a frightful squint!" “I know ii.". “Science will remove that defect by an easy and almost painless operation,". No sooner said than done. Samuel underwent tho operation for istrabismus, and. it succeeded per* fcclly* His eyes were now straight and handsome; but the marriage after all was no sham—the lady’ became, another's and poor Samuel was forced to sock for consolation in tho.ezerolso of his profession. Ho was to appear in his best character; tho curtain rose, and loud hissing saluted him. “Samuel!" “Where is Samuel?" “We want Samuel !"-was vociferated from pit and gallery. . When silence was partly restored, the.actor ad* vanced to the footlights, and said, “Hero lam; 1 am'-Samuel!" / ! ' “Out with the impostor I" was the cry, and such a tumult arose, that the unlucky actor was forced to fly from, tho stage. 116 lost the grotesquQ.uxprcssion, the cbmio mask, which used to sot Ino house in a roar he could no longer oppear in his favorite char* actors. " Tho operating for strabismus had changed his-destiny; ho was unfitted for .tragedy, and: was forced after a’ lime, to-lake, tho most insignificant parts, which barely afforded him a scanty subsist*, once.’ '• Ono, fine day, a poor man was seated on the Pont Royal in,Paris, waiting for alms. Tho passers by wore bestowing their money liberally, when a hand* some carriage stopped near tho mendicant, and a celebrated oculist stepped out. Ho wont up to the blind mao, oxamined’lils oyo balls, and said," Come with mo; I will restore your'sighl." Tho beggar obeyed; the operation was successful,-and the Jour* data of (hp day were filled with praises of thp doo* tor's skili’and philanthropy. Th’b ox-blind 'man subsisted (brsomo time on a small sum of money which his benefactor had given him;.and when it was spent, ho returned to his former poston tho Pont Royal. Scarcely, however, had ho resumed bis usual appeal, when a policeman laid his hand on him, and ordered him to desist, on* pain of being taken up. “ You mistake," said tho mendicant, producing a paper ; “here is my Icgatjiconso to beg, granted by tho magistrates." “Stuff!" cried the official; “this license is fora blind man, and you seem to enjoy excellent sight." Our hero, in despair, ran to tho oculist's house, in tending to seek compensation for tho doubtfbl bode* fit conferred on him; but the man of science had gone on a (our through Germany, and (be aggrieved patlofh found himself compelled (o adopt the hard alternative of working for his support, and abandon* ing tho easy life of a professed beggar. A Prompt Sentinel* An account is given in an exchange paper, of a somewhat ludicrous incident which occurred at Now London, Connecticut, during the revolutionary war. At a certain point In tho outskirts of tho town, near the bank of. the Thames, the sentinel on duty was shot at every niglit. Two had boon killed, by tho same person, who landed la IhC dead of night, and before (he sentinel could hall three times, ac cording to military tactics, fired his piece and os* esned under cover of the darkness, Tho exposed post naturally became dreaded by (ho soldiers, who had but littlo taste for being shot. At length a negro belonging to tho rank and file, was stationed on (ho spot one night, and ordered, if ony person appeared,'to hail, "who goes there?" litres times and if no answer waft returned to fire his musket at.him. '' Pompey hod never stood sentry, but ho promised to obey tho directions. Ho paced backward and forward, stealthily, wilh his oars open to (ho slight* cat sound. At the accustomed hour the foe appeared emerging from a clump of bushes under tho shade of which he had landed. Pompey instantly levelled his piece and cried u who go dar, onoo, twice, three times7—bang I" hailing and firing simultaneously. The aim taken by Pompey's pooled oniop was true, tho intruder was instantly killed,-and tho post was no longer exposed to danger. Home Affections* Tho heart hae memories (hat never die: Tho rougli rubs of (ho world, cannot obliterate them.— They are tho memories of homo—early homo.— Thoro is a magic in the sound. Thoro tho old tree under which the light-hearted boy swung many a day—yonder tho river In which ho learned to swim— (hero (ho house in which ho know a parent’s protec tion—nay, there in the room in which ho romped with brother and sister, long since, alas Maid in tho yard, in which ho must soon bo gathered, overshad owed by yon old church, whither with a joyous troop like himself ho has often followed his parents to worship with, and hear the'good old inftn who ministered at the altar. Why, oven tho very school houso, associated In youthful days with thoughts of tasks, now comes to bring pleasant remembrance of many occasions (hat call forth some generous ex hibitions of nobio traits >of human nature. Thoro Is whoro ho learned to fool some of his first omo lions. There,' porchanoo, ho first mot tho being who, by her love and tenderness in life, lias made a homo for himself, happier than that his childhood iftiow. Thoro.are certain feelings ofliumanUy,and those too, among the best that can find an appropri* ate place for their exorcise only by one’s fireside. There is a privacy of that which ik was a species of desecration to violate. Ho who Books wantonly to invado it is neither, more nor loss than a villain; and hence thoro exists no surer tost of debasement of public morals in a community, than tho disposi tion t 0 tolerate in any mode, tho man who invades the sanctity of private life. In tho turmoil of the world lot thoro ho at least one spot where the poor | man may find affection and confidence which are not to bo abused.— Dr. ifaiofos. In tho Islet of Sliyo nlono it is oompnlod thot 10,000 slilo bodied persons, not onlltlod to relief, Sts St tins lima without work, without food, and with out credit, This is in Groat Brllsin. Oj-VVlien a man fails in llio ptonupolaHon of National Intelligencer, lake It for granted that ho is drunk, *ODE COUNTRY—MAT ITAXtWATB BKRICIIT—DUTR IQIITOR WRONG,OUR COUNTRY** CARLISLE, PA-, THURSDAY, JULY 3, 1851. TAIiLBYRAND AND ARNOLD* Thero was a day when Talleyrand arrived In Havre, hot foot from Paris. It was in the darkest hoar of the French Revolution. Pursued by the bloodhounds of the Reign of Terror, stripped .of every wreck of property and power, Talleyrand secured a passage to America in a ship about.to sail. He was going a beggar and a wanderer (o a strange land to earn his bread by daily labor. ' “Is there an American slaying at your housel” he asked the landlord of the hotel. “1 am bound to cioss the water, and would like a letter to some person of influence in the New World.” The landlord hesitated a moment, and (hen re plied: ‘ “There Is a gentleman up stairs, either from America or Britain’, but whether an American* or Englishman, 1 cannot tell*” ■ ~ He pointed (he way, and Talleyrasd-~who m his life was Bishop, Prince. :ajjd Pmm ascended the stairs..' jifednserable fbpplianl h(T stood before the strangers door, knobbed and en tered. •• In the jar corner of a dimly lighted room, sat a , gentleman of some fifty years, his arms folded, and , fils head bowed on his breast. From a window . directly opposite, a flood of light poored over his j forehead. His eyes looking from beneath tho downcast brows, gazed on Talleyrand’s face with i a peculiar and searching expression. His face >1 was striking in its outline; Iho mouth and chin j indicative of an iron will. His form, vigorous, even with the snows of fifty winters, was clad in 1 a dark, but rich and distinguished costume. ' i Talleyrand advanced—stated that ,he was a fu* 1 gl live—and under the impression that the gentle* I man before him was an American, he solicited his kind and feeling offices. He poured forth his history in eloquent French ! and broken English— • .“Tam a wanderer—an exile. lam forced to fly to the New World, without a friend or home.— You are an American!, .Give me, then, I beseech you,"a letter of yours, so that I may be able to earn my bread. I am'willing to toil in any man* ner, the scenes of Parts have filled me with such horror, that a life of labor would be a paradise lb a career of luxury in France. You will give mb a letter to. one ot your friends. > A gentleman like you has doubtless many friends.”. . The strange gentleman rose.... With a look that Talleyrand never forgot,.he retreated towards the door of the next chamber, his head still downcast, his eyes lookli% still from beneath hia darkened brow. He spoto as he retreated backward: his voice was full of moaning— “l am the only man born in the New World, who can raise his hand to God and say—l have, not a friend—not one in all America.” Talley* rand never forgot tho overwhelming sadness of that look which accompanied those words.' “Who he cried, as. the strange man retreated towards tho next room. “Yobr name 1” “My name”—with a . smile that , had-more of mockery than joy In its convulsive expression— “my name is Benedict Arnold.” He was gone. Talleyrand sank into'a chair, gasping the words “Arnold—the traitor I” , Thus you see he wandered over the earth, ano* thor Cain, with a wanderer’s mark upon his brow* Even in that secluded room at an Inn of Havre,4ns" ,crlmes found bin; out, Jjf* name—that narad (fie synonymbof infamy. ( ' The last'twenty years of his life are covered with a' cloud, from whose darkness but a fow gleams of ligh} flash out upon the page of his* tory. Tho manner of his death is not exactly known. But we cannotdoabt that he died utterly friendless —that his cold brow was not moistened by the farewell tear—that remorse pursued him to. the grave, whispering John Andre! in his ears, and that (he memory of his course of glory ‘gnftwed 4 ' like a canker at hie heart, murmuring forever “True to your country, what might you hatffrbeen, 0 Arnold, the. Traitor!” TUB TWO ROADS* It was Now Year’s night.' An aged man was standing at a window* He raised his mournful eyes towards the deep-blue sky, whore the stars were floating, like white lilies on tho surface of a clear, calm lake. Then he oast them on tho earth, where few more hopeless things (ban himself now moved toward their certain goal—tho l6mb. Al ready ho had passed sixty of the stages which load to it, and ho had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse. His health was destroy ed, his mind vacant, his heart sorrowful, afid his old age devoid of comfort. The days of his youth rose up in a vision before him, and ho recalled tho solemn moment.when his father had placed him at, tho entrance of two roads, one leading into a peaceful, sunny land, covered with a.fertile har vest, and resounding with soft, sweet songs; while tho other conducted tho wanderer into a deep, dark cavoi whence thoro was .no issue, where polsoii flowed Instead of water, and where serpents hissed and crawled* He looked toward (he sky, and'cried out in his agony, “0, youth, return! O, my father, place me once more at the entrance to life that 1 may choose the belter way I** But the days of hid youth and. his father had both passed away. Ho saw wandering lights floating far away over dark marshes, end then dis appear—these were the days of his wasted life.— Ho saw a star fall, from heaven, and vanish in darkness.. This was an emblem of himself; and the sharp arrows of unavailing remorse struck homo to'his heart* Then ho remembered his early com- K anions, who entered-on life with him, but who, avlng trod the paths of virtue and of labor, wore now happy and honored on this New Year’s night. The clock In tho high church tower struck, and the sound, falling on nis oar, recalled his parents’ early love for him, their erring son—tho lessons (hoy had taught him—tho prayers they had offered up on his behalf* Overwhelmed with slialho and grief, ho dared no longor look toward that heaven whore his father dwelt; bis darkened eyes dropped tears, and, with one despairing effort, he cried alohd—“Come back I my early days, comp back!” And his youth did return; for all this was b'ut a dream which visited his slumbers on Now Year’s night. Ho was still young—his faults alone woro real. Ho thanked God, fervently, that time was still his own—that ho had not yot entered the deep, dark cavern, but that ho was free to tread the road leading to tho peaceful land, whore sunny harvests wave. Ye who still linger on tho threshold of life, doubting whioh path to choose, remember that, when years are passed, and your feet stumble on the dark mountain, you will ory bitterly, but pry in vain—“O, youth, return! 0, give me back my early days!” _____ Not Head Far Enough,—A member of tho So ciety of Friends happened one day to meet two Oxford scholars, bnb of thorn remarked to hla.com panion that they would have some apart with Broad brim, and immediately gave him a slap on tho oheok saying, “ Thou Quaker, U ia.written, * if one amita thoa Ondho rightoboek, turn to him llio other alao,'” “Thou haat not road far enough," aaid tho Quokor, " (urn thou ovor tho otliar loaf, and llioro thou wilt find, that l with whatsoever moaauro thou mooteit, it ahall bo moaaured to tboo again,' ” at tho oamo lima giving (ho Oxonian a whack that oonl him tooling to tho other aido of tho road. , Why ia on old maid lika a watoh 7 Ilecauio aha boara IbO marks of Time upoabot face. ROMANCE OF RBAL LIFE* , Counts Hadick and Amedy, both.belonging toroid families of Hungary, were on terms of immediate friendship, which their long and important, services had cemented. They resolved to suporadd the strong* or ties of relationship by .uniting their children who wore.'thon of about the same ago. Therefore Had ick, 4ho solo heir lo his illustrious house, .was brought up with young Constance, who, from her childhood, displayed as much beauty as goodness. At tbo ago of fifteen,the feelings of those two young persons woro already what they wore' to bo thronghout their lives. The estates of ‘the two magnates were in the same neighborhood. Con* stance, in attending the lessons of her young friend, easily learned all those, exorcises which dovclopo the graces without detriment to beauty. They hud also the sumo passion for music—a passion natural to. Iho Hungarians, Throughout tho country they were extolled as patterns of virtue; already did their parents* think of fixing tho period of their marriage, when war broke out, Tho laws of Hiihgary/as you arc aware, oblige every noble to combat in person in tho defence of his native land; and at critical junctures when (lie whole nation arises, tho magnates with their banners march at the head of their vassals.' Count Hadick, with duo regard to tho' honor of his house, wished his son to toko si part in the impending, operations. Young Constance beheld with courage the prepara tions lor (ho departure of her friend, whoso, absence •the chances of war might render a very long, and perhaps an eternal one. The day before tho departure the betrothing took place, and it was with , tho certainty of possessing the hand of Constanco that tho young count sot out at .the head of his vassals, to join tho Hungarian army .at Fcsth. Tho issuo of that war is woll known.' Tho Hungarians sustainod'in it their rep utation of valor. Theodore, for several actions of echzfypblalned tbo cross of Maria Theresa —ono of the most honorable military distinctions. But whilst tho youth was winning these laurels, Constance was suffering from a' cruel disease. At* (ackci! with, (ho smallpox, sho long lingered between life and death. At length she recovered, but the efforts of her physicians could not save her charm ing Taco from havoc—it became almost hideous. Sho-wasnot permitted to soo herself In a mirror before her complete convalescence. On beholding iforself, she was seized with despair, and, persuaded tbat Tlicodoro could lovo her no more, she wished for death. In vain did her father and Count Hadick strive to,Comfort horj harassed by ito dread of bo- : ing no longer worthy of her futur % she rejected all consolation, and was rapidly withering. : She was in this melancholy condition when one 1 morning a servant, who had accompanied Theodore do Radick lo lho army, hastily entered the, apart ment in whidh isho was with her father, and an ; notinoed that his young master was following him.’ j.He was soon hoard advancing and crying “Con- I stance, where art thou 7° | Oh hearing his beloved voice, the poor girl had | not ksourago enough to (loo; sho covered her face 1 with her hands and her handkerchief, and implored her plover not to lodk at her. “ Her beauty was gone, 11 she said, “and eho had now but her heart to ofier him.*' Thcodoro begged her to look at him, observing that it mattered not whether she wore mcjfo or less handsome, since ho could no longer see. hot. Sho looked at him—ha was blind—-a shot ho had received having destroyed his sight I [v-Thoy were soon after 1 married—and never. per* l hapq did a coupla sir worthy of being happy, prove more so. 4 The cpunloss conducts her husband every where, wilhoui noitliiftt’fiFmji moment. '* She lavish ot dh hlln Iho moßt hncc{toriafo’alfoh Ifo n a;ond/1 f you always see her willi a veil, It is not because sho Tears to show, her disfigured features, but because sbo dreads some remarks upon the loss of her beauty which may bo overheard by Count Radicle, and I sadden a husband whonvsho adores. A Good Schoolmaster* . The following excellent story, is fold of a Now York Schoolmaster: • . i - ■ \ I hoard of ono of ypur' poirimillccs Interfering with a vengeance, and turning oula< schoolmaster for committing enormities in-iho way of illustrating lessons.'- 1 It appears that ho hdd enlisted the Toolings of his pupils in Natural Philosophy,, bbt'was told to do tho leaching and leave the nonsense. Bui noth ing daunted, ho got eaino apparatus himself, and told tho boys if they would bring a mouse or two tho next day ho would show them the effects of ni trogen upon. them. Tho next day bamo the com mittee to reprove him,, because tho boys-in |b‘oir eagerness to learn had been up all night trying to catch mice for tholr master, and disturbed (hose-la lh,q house. 110 promised to do bettor, but. when ho came to Astronomy, ho,committed a more atrocloua crime, fur being deficient of an orrery ho took a boy in tho school and placing him in the San,-told him now to lorn slowly upon his axis as the Sun did, then ho placed a lilllo fellow for Mercury next to him, a girl for Venus, then a. representation of the Earth, then a fiery little follow Tor Mars, and sp on till he got ail the planetary system arranged and explained to each ono how fast ho was to turn on his heel ss it went round tho orbit. Then giving tho signal, the Sun commenced re volving, and. away wont tho whole team of planetary around him, each boy keeping in Ills proper distance from tho centre, trotting with his proper velocity In his orbit, and whirling around in due proportion as ho performed his revolutions. It must have boon a rare sight, and a lesson whioh tho boys retained; for do you think, my doar sir, that John, who repre sented Mercury, would ever forgot that hs had an easy time walking round the lubber in tho' centre, while Will. who . personated Ilerscho), must have been nearly out of breath in scampering around.his orbit. But if tho boys did not forgot tho losson noilhnr did the master. They danced but ho paid the piper. IlorriQod, Iho committee thon disimssod-him at once—ho had been teaching, for aught they knew, tho danco of doivlshes. An Unpublished Verse ov. Burns.— When Burns w&a in Edinburgh,' Bays tho Glasgow Citizan, ho Was Introduced by a friend to Iho studio of a well Known painlsr, whom he found engsgod in it repre sentation of Jacob’s Dream. After minutely exam ining tho work, ho wrote the following vono on tho back of a iittlo sketch which is still preserved in (he painter’s family: Dear i»ji gio yo« some advice, You’ll take it no uncivil;' You ahouhlna paint at angels mair, ' • But try'and paint the d—K To paint an angel's kittle wark, Wi* auld Nick there's loss danger; You'll sasy draw a wool-kent face,* But no sap wool a stranger, ■ A Pis on Shaiiis. —This reminds us of out old dead and gone friend Stephen—no matter for tbo surname—poaoo to hia ashes| Ho and his moth er owned a pig In company, and on purchasing the animal, agreed how they should divide the spoils id killipg trim—tits mother was to have tho head and forequarters. • Well, tho old lady fed tho pig at hor own pro. per dost for tlirea months, and then, thinking it about tirno to bo relieved, she told her son.that site thought ho ought to buy somo corn for the pbtltor, ’ ■ “No, no, mother, said Stephen; Pvo nothing.to do with tho head and fore part thatbslongsto you; you taka caro of that, and I'll, look out for my half.” .... Women nto not logical, and Ihd did lady admit ted thia sophism as good reasoning, and went on feeding tho pig until ho died a violent death about throe months thereafter, when she took her share without n murmur, yielding up tho liatna to Ste phen, whp had every reason to bs satisfied with the sueeoss of his arrangement. mje jFawHS ehxlr. Don’t be ashamed,, my lad, if you have a patch on your elbow. It speaks well for your industri ous mother. For our part wo would rather seo a dozen patches on your jacket, than hear one pro fane and vulgar word escape your lips. No good boy will shun you, because you cannot dress as well as your companions; and if a bad boy some times laughs at your, appearance, say nothing, mV good lad,, but walk 0n... Wo know many a rich and good man, whowasaspooras you. Bogood, my boy, and if you are poor you will be. respected —a great deal more than if you were the,eon of a rich man, and were addicted to bad habits.— Olive Branch* - Mrs. Francis D. Gage,-in a letter to the Ohio State Journal* gives her sex the following fair hits: “Two years ago I/made a journey to New Eng land, accompanied by my husband, and also by my father-in-law* an. old man of fourscore.years. X have seen that good old man olfer his seat to some hale woman of half or less his age, arid seen her accept it, as if It were a right, without even a passing notice of his gray hairs, or;the right of years that entitled him to her kindness and atten tion. Once, and only once, a lady of queenly grace and beauty sprang from her seat as we entered, and with, a voi9o,that was musical in Us every tone, said, “Father, take this armchair.” How my heart sprang to meet her, in-her angel goodness 1 Such has ever been our idea of a lady; which is synonymous of a true woman*”. - , „ A woman has her husband’s fortune in her pow er, because she may, and eke may not, as. she E leases, conform to hiscircumstances. This is er first duty, and it ought to be her pride. No passion for luxury or display ought for a.moment to templ her to deviate tn the least degree'from this line of conduct. She will find her respecta bility in it. Any other course Is wrelohedness it self, and inevitably leads to ruin. Nothing can be more miserable than the struggle: to keep up appearance., If it could ;succeed, it .would cost more than it is worth, as it never can,> its failure involves the deepest mortification,, Some of the sublinicst exhibitions of.human virtue have been made by Women,'who have been precipitated sud denly 1 from wealth and splendor to absolute want. It is.not essential to the happy home that there should be the luxury of the carpeted floor, the cushioned sofa, or the soft shade of the astral lamp. These elegancies gild the apartments, but .they reach not the heart. It is neatness, order, and a cheerful heart, which makes homo that sweet pa radiso it is so often found to be. There is a joy as real, as heart-felt by the collage fireside, as in the most splendid saloons of wealth and refine ment. The luxuries and elegancies of life are not to bo despised. They are to bo received with gra titude. But these possessions do not onsuro hap piness.* The sources of true joy are notsbhollow. The cheerful heart, like the kaleidescope,' causes most discordant materials to arrange themselves In harrao’riyanrfrbßauly;“.'V' • Almost any ono can be courteous and patieht.in a neighbor’s house. If anything goes wrong, or is outof timo, or is disagreeable, there it is mado tho best of, not tho worst; even efforts.are giade to excuso it, and to show it is not felt; or if felt, it is attributed to accident, not to design; and this is not only easy, but natural, in tho house of afriond. I will not, therefore, believe that what is natural in the housoof another, is impossible at homo,but maintain, without fear, that all the courtesies of social life may bo uphold in domestic societies. Ladies' Keepsake. A child’s heart responds to the tones of its mo ther’s voice like a harp to tho wind, and its only hope for peace and courage is in hearing nothing but peace and gentleness from her, and experien cing nothing but unremitting love, whatever may .be its troubles elsewhere. Supposing this-to be all right, tho mother will fool herself from the first the depository of its confidence,-a confidence as sacred as any other, though tacit, and about mat ters which may appear to all but itself and her in finitely small. Wo never yet knew a boy or a man Who from oarly lifc spoko tholruth and shunned a falsehood, that was not virtuous in all respects; and who did not .acquire and enjoy tho confidence and esteem of. society. Truthfulness is ono of tho chief cor ncr'Bton'cs; in ago.od and rospeclablo. character.— Young tnan! never utter a falsehood; never ho templed to depart from strict truth in nll saylngs. False words' como from a falso heart, breeds'cor ruption that soon taints and spoils tho whole char acter. : . . pad Company. I Koeftput' of bad’ company. “Tho companion of foolsShall’tie* tfdstroyod.” If others wasto their time in T6lly v atid sin* avoid thorn. They may bo smart, but they will do you no good,and they may do you mucHmarm. Bad company is thojuln-of many t evon oC thoso who are older than'yon.— Keep owoy from idlers, swearers, liars and Sab bath-breakers. ■ Even “oho sinner destroyed much good.” Keep . away— a touch not tho unclean thing.” ~ ' \ . Nover bo rude, mischievous nor boisterous, in l|io pbsonco ofyour parents or teachers. Remem ber iho eye of God J 0 upon you, Read tho 139th Psalm. V \ ' Nover take flbortlos, or manifest undue self-im portance, when visitors or strangers aro present.— Homo very bad children* oh suoh occasions, not only disgrace themselves,-blit also dishonor their parents. • “My. son;.hear Iho lnslrgclioa of thy father, and fpreako not Jho law of thy mother, for (hoy shall be ah ornament of grace unto thy head, and chain's about thy hook. 1 Prov. I. 8, D, ‘Hbnof'tliy father and mother,’which is tho fifslcommandmonlwilh promise.” ‘ * T * " 1 Uosolvo never to’, do anything, when yon oro nions, that you would not do if your parents wore present. i 1 . Never, bo offended when corrected for your faults. Some liltld boys and girls ate displeased, when thoir faults ate pointed out, and'receive it unkindly. This ia wrong. ' They should be very humblo and thankful for some kind friend to cor rect'their vicious habits, and teach them bettor manners. , Never invite any one to visit you without first consulting your patents or guardians, . Children and youth should nover assume tho high responsi bility of selecting either their books or associates; it is feittfiil I None bnl parenlsorguatdianahavo a tight to make tho selection; ‘Cursed bn lie that scttolh light by ills father; or Ills th'oihbV; hud all the people shall say, Amen.' Small oauaos oro auflloient to make a man un easy, when great ones l are not lit the avey. '■for [ want of a blook, he will alurablo.atvn straw, ; Tho Poor Boy* A True I»ndy* The Wife’s Influence# The Ohoerfnl Heart* Right to. the Point* Tho Child's Heart* Truth*' A VVordtaGlrls uml Hoys* AT * 8 00 PEE ANNOfi;. /; '/:• ■ kMpt vhe Tdttiyir>hot* r ~'li ■ 1 •. Old ParSonß., who presided, overa littlcflock n one the back towns in the Slat© of.JWif |ybs, Without any exception)the most,eccentric divine we ever knew. ; Hia eccentricities were carriqa as far in the pubpit as out of iu An Instance wo will relalas , . ~ , , ; Among his church members was ono who inva--\ . riably made a practice of leaving the church erd -a the. parson was‘two-thirds through' hia sermon.-r^ This was practised so ; long, that after, a whilo.it : became a matter of course,,and-no opo, save the ; divine, seemed to take notice of it. He notified ' brother P. that such a thing must* ho felt assured* be needless|'but P. safd at that hour his family ■ needed his services at home,'and'he must dp it; 11 nevertheless, oh lpavin’g church* he always took a j deviating course, which,' by dome mysterious means, always brought him in close proximity ’ with the village tavern, which he would enter, and “thereby hanga a tale.” i --. Paraori B, ascertained from some /; P*a, object in leaving the church was to obtain A dram, and he determined,. too, to,stop,hia leayfnz? and disturbing the congregation in fulurb, if sucE ■ a thing;was posaiblo. * : < •, . The next Sabbath P. was going out, as wap his ; custom, when, (he old-pardon- cried ouV’M’Brothey p p». ; ' ‘ *- v' ■■ ■- ' v • . P.* on beingitfliris addressed* slopped idhbrt and, gazed pulpit. | ‘ " ‘‘Brother P.” continued the pprsort, “there is no.: need of your .leaving chorcH'at this time. As tj passed the tavern this morning, I - mado 'ari ! arige* [ - menls with the landlord to keep your 16ddy;htrt' until the church was out.” ; The surprise and mortification oPtho brother can hardly ;be He shrunk back to.his se^t,. • and for the rest of the day was “ the all observers.” He did’nt visit the tavern after* church, neither did'he again leave thechurcH’ero' services'were concluded. ' •; : ; Kiud Words in tho Family* There are few families, we anywhere*' in which love is not abused as furnishing a lioenstt* for impoliteness. A. husband, father, or brother* , will speak harsh words to those whom no loves , the best, and to those who lovo him the beqfj'sim- . ply because the security of love and family jifiday keeps him from getting his head broken. It, is*a shame that a man will speak more impdlilelyat times, to his wife or. his sister, than he would dare* to any other femdlo. It is thus that the honest af fections of man’s nature prove to be a weaker pro tection to womah in the family circle than the re straints of,societyi'and that a woman; usually; 18‘ indebted for the kindest politenesses of life to tbose t not belonging to her own household. ..Tilings, ought not so to be.. The man, who, because it will not bo resented, inflicts bis spleen and bad temper upon those of his hearthstone, .is a small coward and a very mean man. Kind words are tho.circulating : medium between true gonftemeu and true ladles, at homo, arid no polish exhibited' in society can alone* for tho hard langbogoand dis 4 respectful treatment too often indulged in between those bound together by God’s own tics of blood, and the still more eacied bonds of conjugal love. CURIOUS FACT* A.young man in the township of,Warsaw, HQocouhly.Ncw-York, waa engogedin fend in tubing.a trep it Docamo'’entangled'in tlio wftmbfrctfbf Utftrr entangle (ho tree and bHngit to ifio ground, il,eutU v dtsrily foil ; and splitting-at the butt', he'vVas cVdjjhi" by tho foot and thus suspended with, his hoadddwii-r • wards. In this 'Crte'd>fbr.‘hclp; "Until ht® voice was gone and his slrenglb-WdhDigh llis.axo bad fallen, and he could hardly touch tho end of tho hclro with his finger. Ho labored to roach it, but it was all in vain. Could hp but.got that, ho would extricate himself. But-alael it was beyond bis roach. What could ho do? Ho had cried for help until ho could no longer speak. Ho was in tho woods three-quarters of a mile from any human being. Tho weather wa? extremely cold, and ho was hanging with his head downwards, suf fering extreme pain, not only in tho cleft of tho tree) but also in tho head, caused by his unnatural position, and tho gtoat exertion ho had pul forth to tnakd himself heard,’ Death now seemed inevitable, unlcei' ho could immediately bo extricated. There was no alternative. Summoning all his courage, therefore, ho camp to tho determination to moke tho attempt to cut off his leg; and’shoald ho succeed in doing tins, there was but a faint hopo that ho would (hero by save his life, for there was no surgonn'ot hand (o take up the arteries—no kind friend near to bind up fho mangled limb. It seemed more than probable, therefore, that ho would blood (o death. But what will a man not do to savo his life ! Ho had in his pocket an old dull knifo. With (his ho cut o|]!y>llio logs of his boot and stocking, and then onj6ii)pd bis own ankle.- -Tins being done, ho crawled ncr basket', and bidding up the stump With ahabkfity which covered his’ dinner, ho started through?llio s snow for homo. When ho arrived within u few rodi of liis'houso lip was discovered by some friendft wltj. hastened to liis relief. His strength wasndw'bX hauslod.' Help had como and ho fainted. Ho borne to the.house and resuscitated, Now, ihp. curious fuels; and I will hero say that tho gontlo man who related tho facts to mo was present and. wont for tho surgeon.. " Go," said tho wounded man, “ go immediately to tho woods and cut off my foot, I for ,il is Buffering moat oxcrutlat’mg pain.'* They * did so, and brought the fool to tho hoasu. Ho then r said it was cold and wished it pul into warm water, j This request was also grunted. It was not in; t[iq * room in which tho unfortunate man lay, yet as soon L foot touched tho water ho cried outlaying, ■ *‘it barns mo; tho water is 100 hot!’' Upon pulling " tho baud into .tho wator.il was found oyon so. ■ Tho * water was (hen made cooler, and ho was satisfied 1 I will also add ’(hut a surgeon was obtained ftoni 1 Batavia, a distance of fifteen or eighteen ' the limb again ompulotcd—tho man rocovordd^ond became a .preacher of tho gospel in the, Baptist Chufclil—jfVaafty/arian. ‘ f Franklin’s Toast.— Long after WashingtidV victories over ilio French and Knglitsli had made his name familiar over, all Europe, Dr. Franklin chanced to dine with’tho English and French Am bassadors, when, os .nearly ns I can words, the following toasts were drunk t JJjrtho British Ambassabor. ••England—tho aim, whoso beams enlighten and fructify tho remotest coiners of the earth.** Tho French Ambassador, glowing with .national pride, drank-4“Frunco—tho wlioso fnild, steady, and cheering rays are (he. de light of all nations; consulting ihbm in ddrkneas, and making their dreariness beautiful.” 'Dr. lProhk lin then rose, nnd with his usual dignified simpli city, said—** Georgo Washington—lha:,Joshua, who commanded tho sun and moon to aland alii), and they, obeyed'himJ*. " Tub Chancks' or Marriage.—This' subject is al ways interesting,and marriage Bldtlstioaare oqtlMb aa well as Instructive. In England thisi.ohiM ior statistics are‘‘col up” with official accuracy.; 1 tho‘‘Register General of Englond’* U.oppotfrf inil’; a lady’s • chance of gelling married i9«.tiw;frfwV. mUm between the ages, of 'twenty and ‘twahty*’fivAf; BoTyro lwonly,hcr cliancci oro but ono-fifUr.-anaV from twenty to twqnly»fiv« ono .third ,of n\um chanco, .Men. mafrVvMor .limn • yotagront majority of mSV]r»agds uro pgiapd ;unwi* ‘ while both parties ito'.* under twouly-flvoV Mwj contract marriage! at a laUr period Women out of Ivvontyscveu thousand four h»" eighty single marrio » uUu&mcutiQt&p ■ youngor than herself. ~ •- 1 :’a / ' £(.)''ll. -I '»r/K feu NO. 4./;
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers