AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY MORNI&G 0y jotm 11, Bratton. TERMS j Subscription.— One Dollar and Fifty Cents, i naid in advance; Two Dollars if fluid within the year: and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, If not paid within tho year. Those terms will bo rigid ly'adhered to in every instance. No subscription discontinued until oil arrearages are paid unless at tho option of tho Editor, .Advertisements-- Accompanied by tho Cash, and not exceeding one square, will bo inserted three times for one Dollar, and twenty-flvo cents for each additional insertion. Those of a greater length In proportion; Job-Printing —Such as Hand Bills, Posting Bills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c., &c., exe cuted with accuracy and at tho shortest notice. fforiltnl. THE BRIDE’S NEW DOME. Fur from childhood’s sunny bowers, A now homo moots tho fair Young Bride, Now duties claiming now tho hours. And stranger scones on every side, hoi W»6n tho twilight hour was come. And Memory’s holiest depths are stirred, feces she not then the dear old'home, > Whore late her voice and stops where heard ? A nd thirties she not of childhood’s breams, •That thrilled her with their witching spoil, bf youth’s more wild romantic schemes, . She loved to foster all so well 7 And secs she not those absent fViends Who miss the dear one gone from them, With each of whom some memory blonds, Now treasured as a priceless gem 7 But the deep sense of loneliness That weighs so heavily on the soul, When thoughts like these upon her press, Yields to affbotion’s sweet control— That strong affbetion which incites To almost any sacrifice, Which is to those whom it unites, An antopast of Paradise. The Bride’s New Homo I Religion there Should ever have her sacred shrine, And morning praise, and evening prayer fie breathed for every gift divine. Poor human love will never wono, Nor idolize its objects hero, Where piety hath roared a fane. And the heart offering is sincere. The Bride’s New Home! Peace bo within, And every hallowed grace employed j A mother’s prayer an answer win ; A father’s blessing full enjoyed ; A sister’s wishes realized ; A brother’s hopes fulfilment Qndi Each dear friend’s benediction prized, And aU with odorous thoughts the mind. The Bride’s Now Home! Let music wake Her soul-entrancing measure there, And melancholy's dirge ne’er break In darkling cadence on its air. Let Love’s perfume its hall pervade, That echo but to gentlo words, So shall the Bride’s New Home be made, The fairest dwelling earth affords. Hiflrtllnnmis. THE LONGEST SIGHT IN A LIFE. BY CHARLES DICKENS. It was one of those old-fashioned winters, in the days of the Georges, when the snow lay on the ground for weeks, when railways were un known. and thcelrctric telegraph had not been dreamed of save by the speculative London- The malls had been irregular for a month past, and the letter-bags which did reach the post-office had been brought thither with difficulty. The newspapers were devoid of nil foreign intelligence, the metropolis knew noth* ing of the doings of the provinces, and the pro vinces knew little more of the affairs of the me tropolis : but the columns of both were crowded with accidents from the inclemency of the Wea ther, with heart-rending accounts of starvation and destitution, with wonderful escapes of ad venturous travellers, and of still more adventu rous mail-coachmen and guards. Business was almost at a stand-still, or was only carried on by fits and starts: families were made uneasy by the frequent long silence of their absent members, and the poor were suffering great misery from cold and famine. The south road had been blocked up for nearly a month, when a partial thaw almost caused a public rejoicing : coaches began to run, letters to be despatched and delivered, and weather bound travellers to have some hope of reaching their destination. Among the first ladies who undertook the journey from the west of Scotland to London at this time, was a certain Miss Sterling, who had, for weeks past, desired to reach the metropolis. Her friends assured her that it was a fool-hardy attempt, and told her of travellers who had been twice, nay three times, snowed up on their way to town: hut their advice and warnings were of no avail: Miss Sterling’s business was urgent, it concerned others more than herself, and she was not one to be deterred by personal discom fort or by physical difficulties from doing what she thought was right. So, she kept to her purpose, and early in Feb ruary took her scat in the mail for London, be ing the only passenger who was booked for the whole JourneV. The thaw had continued for some days : the roads, though heavy, were open ; and with the aid of extra horses here and there, the half of the journey was performed pretty easily, though tediously. Thosecondday was more trying than the first: the wind blow keenly, and penetrated every cre viccof thccoach; the partial thaw had but slight ly affected the wild moorland they had to cross thick, heavy clouds were gathering round the red raylcas sun ; and when on reaching a lit tle road side inn the snow began to fall fast, both the guard and coachman urged their soli tary passenger to remain therefor the night, in stead of templing the discomforts and perhaps the perils of the next stage. Miss Sterling hes itated for a moment, but the little inn looked by ho means a pleasant place to bo snowed up in, so she resisted their entreaties, and, gathering her furs more closely round her, she nestled herself into a corner of the coach. Thus, for a time, she lost all consciousness of outward things in sleep. A sudden lurch awoke her; and she soon learned that they had stuck fast in a snow-drift, hncl no effort of tired horses could extricate the Coach from its unpleasant predicament, y The guard, mounting one of the leaders, set off in Search of assistance, while the coachman com forted Miss Sterling by telling her, that as near ly as they could calculate, thov were only a mile br two from ** tho squire’s," and that if the guard could find his way to tho squiro’s, the squire was certain to come to their rescue with his sledge. It was not the first time that tho squire had got tho mail-bags out of a snow- Wreath by that means. The coachman’s expectations were fulfilled. Within an hour, tho distant tinkling of tho sledge hell was heard, and lights were seen gleaming afar; they rapidly advanced nearer and nearer; and soon a hearty voice was heard hailing them. A party of men, with lanterns and shovels, came to their assistance, a strong arm lifted Miss Sterling from tho coach, and supported her trqnbllng steps to a sledge close at hand ; and almost before she knew where who was, she found herself in a largo hall, brilliantly lighted by a blazing wood fire.* Numbers of rosy-glow ing childish faces were-gathered round her, numbers of bright eager eyes were gazing curi ously upon her, kindly hands were busied in removing her wraps, and pleasant voices wel comed her and congratulated her on her escape. “ Ay, ay, Mary," said her host, addressing his wife, “I told you that tho sleigh would have plenty of work this winter, and you soo I was nght.” * BY JOHN B. BRATTON. YOL.«10. “ Aa you always are, uncle,” a merry voice exclaimed. “Wo oil say at Hawtrcc, that Un cle Atherton can never bo wrong.” . “Atherton! Uawtrce!” repeated Miss Stir ling, in some amazement, “and uttered in that familiar voice! Ellen! Ellen Middleton, is it possible that you are here ?” A joyful exclamation and a rush into her arms, were the young girls ready reply to this question, as she cried, “Uncle Atherton, Aunt Mary, don’t you know your old friend Miss Stirling?” Mrs. Atherton fixed her soft blue eyes on the stronger, in whom she could at first scarcely recognise tho bright-haired girl whom she had not seen for eighteen or twenty years ; but by and by she satisfied herself that, though chang ed, she was Ellen Stirling still, with the same sunny smile and - the same laughing eyes that had mode every ono lovc her in nor school-days. Heartfelt indeed were the greetings which fol lowed, and qordial tho welcome Mrs. Atherton gave her old friend as she congratulated herself on having dear Ellen under her own roof: more especially as she owed this good fortune to Mr. Atherton’s exertions in rescuing her. “It is the merest chance, too, that he is at home at present,” she said: “ he ought to have been in Scotland, but tho state of the roods > u this bleak country have kept him here for weeks.” ’* “And others as well,” Ellen Middleton added, “but both children and grown people arc only too thankful to have so good an excuse for stay ing longer at Belfield. And then, laughing, she asked Aunt Mary how she meant to dispose of Miss Stirling for the night, for the house was as full already os it could hold. “Oh,” said hcraunt, “we shall manage very well. Belfield is very clastic.” She smiled as she spoke ; but it struck MisS Stirling that the question was, nevertheless, a puzzling one, so she took the first opportunity of entreating her to take no trouble on her nc* count; a chair by the fire was really all the ac commodation she cared for, as she wished to be in readiness to pursue her journey as soon as the coach could proceed. “ Wo shall bo able to do better for you than that, Ellen,” Mrs. Atherton answered cheerful- ' ly. “I cannot, it is true, promise you a ‘state | room,’ for cverj bed in the house is full, and I know you will not allow any one to be moved for your convenience: but I have one chamber I still at your service, which, except in one re- j spcct, is comfortable enough.” j “Haunted, of course?” said Miss Stirling, 1 gaily. i “ Oh, no, no, it is not that! I had it fitted up for my brother William when he used to bo here more frequently than of late, and it is often occupied by gentlemen when the house is full: but. os it is detatched from the house, I have, of course, never asked any lady to sleep there till now.” “Oh! if that be all, I am quite willing to be come its first lady tenant,” said Miss Stirling, heartily. So the matter was set tied, and orders were given to prepare the Pavilion for the unex pected guest. The evening passed pleasantly; music, danc ing and ghost stories made the hours lly fast. It was long past ten —the usual hour of retiring at Belfield—when Miss Stirling, under the host? ess’s guidance, took possession of her out-door chamber. It really was a pleasant, cheerful lit tle apartment. The crimson hangings of the bed and window-looked warm and comfortable in the flashing fire-light; andPwhcn the cjgdlcs on the mantel-piece were lighted, and the two easy chairs drawn close to the earth, the long parted friends found it impossible to resist the temptaiionof sitting down to have, what in old j days they used to call a “two-handed chat." There was much to tell of what had befallen both, of checquercd scenes of joy-and sorrow, deeply interesting to those two whose youths hod been passed together ; there were mutual recollections of school days to be talked over : mutual friends and future plans to be discussed: and midnight rung out from the stable-clock before Mrs. Atherton said good-night. She had already crossed the threshold to go, when she turned back to say, “ I forgot to tel! you, El- len, that the inside bar of this door is not very secure, and that the key only turns outside.— Are you inclined to trust to the bar alone, or will you, as William used to do. have the door locked oylside, and let the Servant bring the key in the morning. William used to say tliat he found it rather an advantage to do so, as the unlocking of the door was sure to wake him. ” Miss Stirling laughingly allowed, that though generally, she could not quite think it an advan tage to be locked into her room, still she had no objection to it on this particular occasion, os she wished to rise in reasonable time. “ Very well; then you had better not fasten the bar at all, and I will send my maid with the key, at eight precisely. Good night." “ Good night!” They parted ; the door was locked outside ; the key taken out; and Miss Stirling, standing by the window, watched her friend cross the narrow bleak path, which had been swept clear of snow to make a dry passage from the house to the pavilion. A ruddy light streamed from the hall door as it opened to admit its mistress, and gave a cheerful friendly aspect to the scene; but, when the door closed and shutout that warm, comfortable light, the darkened porch, the pale moonlight shimmering on the shrouded trees, and the stars twinkling iu the frosty sky, had such an aspect of solitude ns to cast.over her a kind of chill that made her half repent having consented to quit the'house at all, and let herself be locked up in this lonely place. Yet what bad she to fear? No harm could happen to her fVom within the chamber: the door was safely locked outside, and strong iron stanchcons guarded the window; there could be ho possible danger. So, drawing her chair once more to the fire, and stirring it into a brighter blaze, 'she took up a little Bible which lay on the dressing table, and read some portions of the New Testament. When she laid down the book, she took out the comb that fastened up her long, dark silken tresses —in which, despite her (Wc-and-llurty years, not a silver thread was visible—and, ns she arranged them for Iho night, her thoughts strayed back to the old world’s memories, which her meeting with Mary Atherton had revived. The sound of the clock striking two was the first thing that recalled her to her present life. By this lime tho candles were burned down al most to tho socket, and tho ilro was dying fast. As sho turned to fling a fresh log into the grnto, her eyes fell upon tho dressing-glass, and in its reflection sho saw, or at least fancied she saw, tho bed-curtains move. Sho stood for a moment gazing at the minor, expecting a repetition of tho movement; but all was still, and sho blamed herself for allowing nervous fears to overcome her. Still it was an exertion, evop of her brtvo spirit, to approach tho bed and withdraw th>> curtains. Sho was rewarded by finding nothing save tho bedclothes folded neatly down as if inviting her to press I tho snow-white sheets, and a luxurious pilopf pillows, that looked moat tempting. Sho could not resist tho mule invitation to rest her wear ied limbs. Allowing herself no time for further doubts or fears, sho placed her candle on tho mantol-picco, and stopped into bed. Sho was very tired, her eyes aolicd. with wea riness, but sleep seemed to Uyfrom her. Old recollections thronged on her memory; thoughts “OUR COUNTRY— jfAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT— BUT BIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.” connected with the business she hnd still to get through, haunted, her; and difficulties that had not occurred to her till now, arose up before her. She was restless and feverish; and the vexation of feeling so, made her more wakeful. Perhaps if she were to close the curtains between her and the fire she might be better able to sleep—-the flickering light disturbed her, and the moonbeams stealing between the window curtains cast ghostly shadows on the wall. So, she carefully shut out the light on that side, and turned again to sleep. Whether she had I or had not quite lost consciousness, she could ! not well remember, but she was soon thoroughly , aroused by feeling the bed heave under her.— 1 j She started up, and awaited with a beating ! heart a repetition of the movement, but it did not come. It must have been a return of the nervous fancies, which had twice assailed her | already that night. Laying her head once more on the pillow, she determined to control her groundless terrors. Again she started up J This time there could be no doubt; the bed hnd heaved more than 1 once, accompanied by a strange gurgling sound, as if of a creature in pain. Leaning on her cl i bow, she listened with that intensity of fear which desires, almost ns much as it dreads, a | recurrence of the sound that made it. It came ! again, followed by a loud rustling noise, as if I some heavy body was dragged from under the ! bed in the direction of the fire. What could it I bo? She longed to call out for help, but her ' iongue clave to the roof of her mouth, and the pulses in her temple throbbed until she felt as if tljeir painful beating sounded in the silence of the flight like the loud tick of a clock. The unseen thing dragged itself along until it reached the hearth-rug, where it flung itself down with violence. As it did so, she heard the clank of a chain. Her breath came loss painfully as she heard it, for it occurred to her that the creature might be nothing worse than the house do&. who, having broke his chain, had taken shelter beneath the bed in the warm room. Even this notion was disagreeable enough, but it was os nothing to the vague terror which had hitherto oppressed her. She persuaded herself that if she lay quite quiet no harm could happen to her. and the night would soon pass over. — Thus reasoning, she laid herself down again. By-and-hy the'creature began to snore, and it struck her feverish fancy that the snoring was not like that of a dog. After a little time, she raised herself gently, and with trembling hands drew back an inch or two of the curtain, and neeped out, thinking that any certainty was I better than such terrible suspense. Sbc looked towards the fire-place, and tlicrc, sure enough, the huge creature liy—a brown, hairy mass, but of what shape it was impossible to divine, so fitful was the light, and so strangely was it coiled up on the hearth-rug. By-and by. it be gan to strotch itself out. to open us eyes, which shone in the flickering ray of the lire, and to raise its paws above its hairy head. 1 Good God 1 those dro not. paws \ They arc | human hands ; and dangling from the wnsu 1 hang fragments of brqken chants ! ' A chill of horror froze Ellen Stirling’s veins, as a flash of the expiring fire showed her this clearly-—far too clearly —and the conviction seized upon her mind,(that she was shut up w|th.an escaped conrifitL An i iiwfl rdiavoqatifm. to Heaven for aid rosoTrora her heart, as mto the wlioleforco of her intellect she endeavored to' survey the danger of her position, and (o think of the most pcrsoasivo Vords she could use to the man into whose power sbehad so strangely fallen. For the present, howevc£, she must be still, very still: she must make no movement to betray herself; and perhaps he might overlook her presence until daylight came, and with it, possibly help. The night must be far spent: she must wait, and hOpc. She had not to wiyt long. The creature moved again—stoodupright—staggered toward j the bed. For one moment—one dreadful mo ment—she saw his face, his pale, pinched fca-1 1 turcs. his flashing eyes, his black bristling hair; but. thunk God ! hodid not sec her. She shrunk ' behind the curtains ; he advanced (o the bed. I slowly, hesitatingly, and the clanking sound of the broken chains fell menancingly on her car. Ho laid his hands upon the curtains, and. for a few moments fumbled to find the opening.- j These moments were ah and all to Ellen Stir ling. Despair sharpened her senses: she found j that the other side of the bed was not set so 1 close against the wall hut that she could pass between. Intojthc narrow space between, she contrived to slip noiselessly. She had hardly accomplished the difficult feat, and sheltered herself behind the curtains, when the creature flung itself on the bed, and drawing the bed-clothes round him, uttered a sound more like the winnying of a horse than i the laugh of a human being. For some little lime, Miss Stirling stood in her narrow hiding-place, trembling with cold and terror, fearful lost some unguarded move ment bhould betray her. and bring down on her a fate she dared not contemplate. She lifted up her heart in prayer for courage ; and when her composure had in some degree relumed, it occurred to her that if she could but reach the window, she might from that position, possibly, attract the attention of some passers-by, and be released frqjji her terrible durance. Very cautiously she attempted the perilous experiment; her bare feet moved noiselessly ft j cross the floor, and a friendly ray of moonlight guided her safely towards the window. As she nut out her hand towards the curtains, her itcatl gave a fresh bound of terror, for it came in cohfact with something soft and warm. At length, however, she remembered that she had flung down her fur cloak in that spot, and it was a mercy to come upon it now, when she was chilled to the bond. She wrapped it round her, and reached the window without fhrthcr adventure, or any alarm from the occupant of the bed ; whose heavy regular breathing gave assurance that he was now sound asleep. This was some comfort, and she greatly needed it. The look-out from the window was anything but inspiriting. The stars still shone peace fully on the sleeping earth: the moon still show ed her pallid visage; not a sight or sound pre saged dawn ; and after long listening In vain for any sign of lifts in the miter world, sno heard the stable clock strike four. Only four I Sho felt ns if it were impossible to survive even another hour of terror such ns she hod just passed through. Was there no hone? None. Sho tried to support herself against the win dow-frame, hut her first touch caused it to shako and croak in ft manner that seemed to her start lingly loud; she fancied that the creature moved uneasily on its bed at the sound. Drops of agony foil from her brow aa minute after min ute wore heavily on ; ever and anon a rustle of the bed-olothoa, or a slight clank of the mana cled hands, sent a renewed dull to her heart. The clock struck live. , Still all without was silent. Suddenly, a man’a wliistlo was heard in the court, and the driver of the mail-coach, lantern In hand, crossed the yard towards the pavilion. "Would to Uod she could call to him, or in any way attract his attention! but she dared not make the slightest sound. Ho looked up at the window, against which ho almost brushed in passing; and the light ho held flashed on Miss Stirling’s crouching flgurp. Ho paused, looked again, about to apeak, when eho hastily made signs that he should bo silent, but seek assistance at CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 13, 1854. the house. Ho gavoher a glance ©(“intelligence, I and hastened away. , How long , bis absence seemed! Could hel have understood her!,; The occupant of the hetT was growing every instant more and more rest less ; hew - as rising from the bcd*-hc was grop ing round the room. They would come too late, too lato! t to ..the court'- But no! steps ii. .... *ywu turning in the lock—tjie door opens—-then, wi i. a yell that rang in Ellen Stirling’s car until her dying day, the creature rushed to her hiding place, dashed the shghl'windo w-frame to pieces, and finding liimsdf btulkcdof his purposed es cape by the the iron bars outside, turned, like a wild-MJst, on his pursuers. She was the first oh wlivfnv his glance fell. He clasped her throat; .‘hiyfaco was close to hers; his glittering eyes wem glaring at her in frenzy —when a blow from behind felled him. She awoke from a long; swoon to Und herself safe in Mrs. A thcrtons dressing-room, and to hear that no one was tjnrt'but the poor maniac, and that he was agiin* in. the charge of his keepers, from whomhthad escaped a few hours before. ik-' “ A fewhqurs! AUife-time, Mary! But. ... , Heaven be Uiankcd, is past like a wild dream.” ' It was not all past.) One enduring effect re mained ever after, to bnprint on KUen Stirling s memory, and on the Memories of all who knew iicr, the event of thai long night. Such had been her suffering, aityioty and terror, that, m these few hours her hj»r had turned ns white as snow.—Household iKprds. —f Scar ttc Late Whip Droop’d tire Willow BY QEOfujE P. JIOEHIB. Near tholakc wh|re droop’d the willuw Long tlnicVgo! Where tho rock threw back the billow, Brighter tttuu nuow * Dwelt a maid, beloved and cherish'd, By high and by low ! But with autumn?* leaf she perished, Long time.flf o I Bock and tree water, Long tiraofigot Bee and bird and,‘blossom (aught her, Love’s spell to know; While to my fonayVords she listened, Munmr.lng low; Tenderly her dove’tyes glistened, , Lung time ago. l Mingled were our hearts forever, Long time'ago! Cnn I now fbVeet her? Never’ No, lost oho, no f To her grave these tears are given, Ever to flow 5 She’s the star I missed from heaven, Long ttoeingo! Indins -Wooing. Mis. E. F. Ellutt, tho authoress, In her letters ; from Minnesota, to thb Now York Tribune, re lates tlic following : * / / “Fussing an hour dr two bcsldo the Falls on the side of Uto river hPEPslto the town of St. Stevens, we had a walk and a conversation with ; ho Intelligent and cultivated lady who. had spent 'three years In teaching lu (lie vicinity, and had witnessed the growth of the largest towns in the territory. Tho Indians, with whom the region was then populous, gave her a name signifying I tho “book woman,”.—(ram the large number ol j books she distributed .among the ignorant and I destitute. She related amusing anecdotes ol one bravo who aspired to her hand, lie would spend hours in serenading her with his flute, uc- ( cording to tho Indian fashion of making love, and , would come to her school, in which there were I several half-breeds,and prevailed on these to in , terprot his wooing. lIIs promises “to build her 1 wigwam and hunt the deer, and make her moc i nssiiiH,'’ did not incline towards him the heart of the fair object of his passions; yet she wished to treat him kindly, and in return for a pewter ring, which he presented her,gave him a bunch of shining brass ones. Her surprise was great, when, a few days after, ho came to fetch home his bride, the exchange of rings being the Indian form of betrothal. On her reftisnl to go with him hi; departed, and the next day sent several stout warriors to bring her, expressing great dis appointment and chagrin when it was explained to him that ho had no right to consider nimsclt her lord and master. His next appearance was in front of her school house, at tho head of an armed troop of savages, but on her appealing to him with josturcs of entreaty not to terrify the children, ho went away without molesting any one.” Under Uit Bose, [A floating paragraph explains tho origin of this expression i] “Tho term, under the rose , implies secrecy, and had its origin during year B. C. 447, at which time Pnusanias, tho com mander of the confederate licet, was engaged in an intrigue with .Xerxes, for the marriage of his daughter and subjugation of Greece to tho Me. dean nilo. Their negotiations were carried on in a building attached to the Temple of Minerva, called tile Brazen House, tho roof which was a garment forming a bower of roses i so that the plot, which was conducted with the utmost se crecy, was literally matured under the mac. It was discovered, however, by a slave, and as the sanctity of the place forbade the Athenians to force Pansanius out, or kill him there, they finally walled him in, and lett him to die of star vation. .It Anally grow to bo a custom among the Athenians to wear roses in their hair when ever they wished to communicate to another a secret which they wished to bo kept inviolate. Hence the saying ju6 rosa among them, and now among almost all Christian nations. ’* “Tub Editor,”-—Tho Richmond Mail throw’s ofTtlio following capital illustration : “They have a steamboat in the western waters by (ho name of Tho Editor. This Is tlxo boat name over yot given to a steamboat, and more especially to a Mississippi steamboit. We are surprised it never bus boon thought of boforc. The editor la a working engine, whoso tires arc going day and night. Now ho sails against the tide, and now with it, going along at a dashing rate until suddenly ho come np all standing, a gainst some hidden sung, which nearly shivers lus Umbers to pieces, Whenever lie moves ho puts tho waters In agitation for a time,and leaves a wako of troubled waters behind him, which lasts about flvo minutes, lie serves everybody but himself, carries freight and passengers in any quantity, and goes puff-puffing down the stream of life. Often his powers are overtasked, and bursts, but fortunately it kills no one buiThlinseir, and who cares for uu Editor! 1 ' A Pta a.nd ms DionitT.—A.frlend of ours paid a visit to 9 neighboring cottagoaftor the hours of work were over, and there, as no expected, found the master of tho house walking briskly up and down in tho mys of tho sotting sun j he was fol lowed by an unwieldy, pig, which turned with Mm ns ho paced to and IVo. An enquiry Into his companionship elicited tho following reply, given with tho of a man who iools ho U simply performing one of hla daily du ties, without a thought of Its being in any way a singular-ono i “Sure ycr honor, and tho craytor doesn't-fthyo; hts health Iwlthout thoexorolsoj and It Isn’t all alono.by himself that ho’ll tako his walk', and he’s grown too proud to walk with the children now.” THE DUPED OXE. It was the fate of the father of Lamartine, the great living French poet and orator, to lie mix ed up with the first French revolution. During that stormy period lie, witli a great number of his compatriots, were immured in prison at Ma con. He was not there long before his wife, with her child, took lodgings opposite the window of Uio coll which enclosed the republican. She soon drew his attention to herself and his child, which, though ho could not speak to her for fear of the sentinel, reconciled {rim in some measure to his captivity, and lessoned the burden of his woes. “My mother,” said Lamartine, “carried me every day In her arms to the garret window, showed me to my father, gave me nourlshtacnt bofore him, made mo stretch my little hands to wards flu* bars of liia prison, then, pressing my forehead to her breast, she almost devoured mo ; with kisses in the sight of the prisoner, and soem- Inkimr nnd flrnpnliiio- Icd thus to waft him mentally oil the eatresses JoKing and ucpcnimg. ] which she hm»hed oh mo.” Not many months since, a party of young gen- | At last she hit on the happy expedient of con tlomen. candidates for orders, as the phrase goes, v< \ving him letters In the following manner; She were travelling per mil to (he Cathedral city of , procured a bow and some arrows, and tying a , where their examination was to lake letter to a thread, she shot the arrow, to which place. They were very merry, and lively, and ' VfIR attached the other end of the thread, into funny as they went along, to the evident annoy- the window of the prisoner's cell. In this way mice of a saturnine-looking man, who was a fel- ®hc Be D* Idm pens, ink and paper. Tie thou, hy low passenger. The great joke of the day was Lie “mo ingenious expedient, sent love-letters to frighten each other about the to-morrow’s to her. Thus the separated husband and wife proceedings, when they would have to pass thro’ were enabled to correspond. to cheer each other’s the fiery ordeal of examination at the hands of j hopes, and sustain each other in their misfor- Ihu Bishop. They talked about him as a good Lines. This was all done at night-time, when sort of goose, promoted to a wig and palace be- ' Lie scrutinizing eyes of flu* sentinels remained cause lie was related to a Whig peer. They J <•» happy ignorance of the medium of eonununi could manage him. thev fancied, but they had i ration. .Success having inspired courage.the all heard that the Chaplain was a terrible fellow, "iLi the assistance of (he arrow and thread, made of divinity, Greek and Hebrew, cayenne afterwards conveyed a file to the captive, with and mustard, a very rhabolm, indeed, of a chap, which lie silently filed through one of the bar. lain, so much like «-the old gentleman In black,” of his prison, and then restored it to its place, that all expected, when introduced to him the On (he next evening, when there was no moon next da} , to see him w ill) a tail. light, a stout cord was fastened in (he thread and The jest was so pointed anil pungent that it transmitted the prisoner. The rope was (irmlv j even drew a grim smile' from tho grim-looking fastened on the one end to a beam in the garret man himself, who had previously stared at them °f the lady, and the other end to dm bars ot the w ilh all the extremity of contempt marked upon cu h : then, summonimr up all his murage the his hard features. Well, both the journey and prisoner glided along the rope. above the heads the day reached (heir end. Tho next morning °f L c sentinels ;he crossed tho siteet. and found arrived, and beheld the voutlg persons elect . himself in tin 1 arms of Ins wife and beside tho mustered in the Bishop's study, lo«fking ns de- cradle of his child. Such an adventure reipiir mure as so many church mice. At length the ( ’d the hero s courage and the philosopher s j door was thrown open. Kilter the Bishop's caution, and none but those who were pommal j chaplain, and O ' horror of honors, it was the b’ interested in it cah ever imagine the fe< hugs grim man. the fellow passenger of tlie day before, which must have agitated their hearts' Fioin [lie walked solemn Ij up to tips table, looked slow- time to lime, "lien the night was dark, (he knot iv round the assembled circle of culprits, and b>d v,,n * "i delightful hours of converse with her you tec Au lull /" And then, after a slight "bom be loved best on earth pause, added, “but, if you please, we will pro- ( cecd to business.” It is.oasier to imagine than describe the feelings of.‘the youths. But the grim man was not revengeful. None of them were plucked. —Liverpool dlbion. j • The jig In up find I nnvflnng ■ Sky-high, and worse than that, The gtrl whose praises I have sung With pen, with pencil and with tongue, Said “No!”—and 1 felt flat. Oh ! what a story to bo told— Just think how* I’ve been running— And spoiling boots, ami catching cold— And then—how cheaply 1 was old, By woman’s eyes uud cunning. arU—{.hc kr But, thank my stars, once more I'm free From woman’s thrall and drinking, And when again a girl fouls nit* Exceeding smart I think she’ll tic— “ Some punkins,” now, I’m thinking. Spoons, Thu W.u.tz. —The following remarks in a let- j ter ft'om an American traveller in Italy in IRUo, copied from the Anthology, then published in Boston, g some account of the origin of the Waltz, and expressing fears that it might he in- 1 Iroduced among us at sumo future day, will bear j ropublicntiun nt this time ! “Among other corrupting fashions, w hich have been introduced here I#, the French ulliccrs, is a lascivious dunce calLtj .the Waltz, originally - Ivumed 1 Oythtfti in Oyiniowyi-twt-wirfolr actly adapted to the topto of the young French ofllccrs, who is in quarters In a city full of pret ty women, whoso nioriUs are loose enough to penult them to join fn this dance. As 3’uii prob ably have never seen it,'and for tho sake of your I feelings I pray you never may, I will give yon a short description of it; in order that you may ! form sonic opinion of tho degraded stale of the morals on the continent of Europe. In the lirat place, thq ladies are dressed ala Grcrque ; that is to say, with the lunl ptnubU at lire, leaving as little room lor the imagination ns possible, the breast and arms totally exposed oi covered only, with g.uisQ or crape. Thus pre pared for tins embracing dance, the gentleman clasps with both arms tho lady (itinly round the waist, while she gently passes one of hers arounfl | ids body, and softly reclines (lie other upon In.-* 1 neck. You will probably expect some descrip tion of an elegant figure, executed withjtastc, and affording variety and amusement. .No, the al titude constitutes all the pleasure and nil llic novelty of Uic dance. Thp dunces thus embra cing and embraced, begin to turn most Airiously precisely like onr sbahing'.Quokcrs, and as the motion would make them dizzy if they did not keep their eyes fixed upon Some object which turns as rapidly as themselves, they have an apology for the most languishing gaze upon each other. In this state of painful revolution they continue, till nature is exhausted, when the lad} is exactly prepared to repose herself, which she does in liio arms of her companion. The dance is soon renewed, and as it has no'other termina tion than the fatigue of the parties, nor any oth cr object than a languishing embrace, It general ly continues for several hours, exhibiting neither variety, taste, nor graceful motions. • I do not think that it is mure indecent to act, than it is (o see it. The Indy or the gentleman, who could do either without n blush, may rely upon it that they ore half corrupted. The Dk.au of run Meiutkranean.—The whole channel of the Mediterranean must be strewed with human bones. Gurthoguniuns, Syrians, Sl donians, Egyptians, Persians, Greeks and 80. mans, there they lie, side by side, beneath the eternal waters; and the modern ship that sails from Alexandria, sails in Us course over buried nations. It may be the comiption of the dead that now adds brigbtne ;.s to the phosphorescence o( the waves All lold me that in the caslthoy have a super stition on t)iis subject, which represents the spir its of tho departed as hovering, whether on land or water, over the spots where tho mins of tboir earthly tabernacles an' found; so that in plough ing tho Mediterranean we sail through armies of ghosts more multitudinous than (he waves.— These patent spirits sometimes ride on the foam, anil at others repose in those delicious jitllo hol lows which look like excavated emeralds, be tween the crests of (ho waves. It is their union and thronging together, says tho Orientals, that constitutes the nhosphoreseonse of the sea, for wherever there Is spirit there is light, and the billows flash with the liiminousnesa of vanished generations that concentrate, as it were, tho star light on their wings. Comb Kiss Mr I—This is the nnine that should bo given U> the fashionable modern bound which lightly resting on the back of the bend, alfords no protection to a pretty face—but on the con trary, inoronsos the attractions wliich, under any circumstances, invite the stamp ol kindness and nllcction f How diflerent from the odious “poke bonnet,” used tlvo and twenty yours ngo, wliich formed a projecting lino of clrcmnvallntion a round bewitching features—a cAft>a«j>dc-/ruc which the most ardent ami prcsumluous admirer of beauty would hardly attempt to pass— when even To undertake the pleasing process, Required an elephant's mohoscla, iJojfou Journal A Guanos Anticipated.—A young lady in a class studying physiology, in tho high school at Sandusky, made answer to a question put, that in six years a human body becomes entirely Changed, so that no particle which was in It at tho commencement of tho period would remain at tho close of It. “Then, Miss L.,” said tho young gentleman tutor, ‘ln six years ypu will cease to he Miss L.' “Why, yes sir, I suppose so,’’ she said, very modestly looking at tho floor. AT 82,00 PER ANNUM. NO. 44. Lamartine’s Mother. ICT' The *|iicstMin before the meeting in this If n Zeller—wlmt h a feller—and hi.s g:d—are abnul to be parted lor a tune—ami fbey propose fn exchange dagueneulvp.-s—nml fur that pur pose the feller goes with his pul tn the daguer. reotype shop—and is to pay for having the ‘pie tine look'—mid he only, Ims money enough f<* pay for mu: picture in ah- ordinun ease, and the other in n magnificent ease—which pietnt should he i m in the magnificent rase—his own ugh , mug, or hern I Would it ho gallant in him to , put her limp in an uply case t \\ ouM it he jin icrfitiH In him to put An mug in an ugly ease i which she is to keep 1 Thai h the rjurstion be * fore llio meeting. We are open lor the discus. ■ sion. Slodkiiatb Mas. —Dr. Gcont.j Eordvcn emu tended that if one meal a day was enough for a lion, it ought for a roan. Accordingly the Doctor uscd*to eat onlyo dinner in fhowhole | course of (he day. Tin's solitary meal he took regularly at four o’clock at Doily Chop’s house. A pound and n hall cf rmnp steak, half a broiled chicken, a pinto of fish, a bottle of port, a quar ter of a pint ot brandy, and a tmkanl of strong nlo satisfied the doctor's moderate wauls till next day at four o’clock, and regularly engaged on*’ hour and n half of his time. Dinner over, he re turned to his home in F.ssex street, Strand, to deliver his six o’clock lecture on anatomy and chemist) y. T7~ A Rhode Island clergyman lately illus trated the necessity of corporal punishment for the correction of juvenile depravity, with the remark, that “the child, when once started in a course of evil conduct, was like a locorao i live on the wrong track—it takes the sunfc/i to jp*t it ofT” When the revemed gentleman de liverer! himself of this piece of waggery with all becoming gravity, a general smile lit up the countenance of many an attentive car. A PorUTAit Mistai.k.—Wo almost daily re- i reive conminnieaiicms for tlie Mirror, whose I | writers are under the impression Uint the over- | 1 tasked editor will feel very grateful for some- , Hung to " help fill up his paper.” This is a 1 girot mistake. Our “galley s” are always run-I uing over with “matter” waiting room fur pub lication. What wo do want —-and what Minors * want —is that which best pai/x. We do not pub- j lihli a newspaper for the sake of giving our own 1 thoughts a daily airing, That would be like driving an omnibus merely fur the sake of the rule. Neither do we conduct a journal for the benevolent purpose of allowing our friends to use our columns gratis for their own private inter est or satisfaction. Thul would 1m- like running ning an omibus fur the purpose of giving one’s friends a ride without the compensating six pence. IC?* A distinguished counsellor of the CVun monWcaUh, ami well known in the political world, was travelling a few days since in the i curs, and had with him a large hull dog of true ; blood. Tho passengers were much annoyed by the presence of tho dog, and one of them, who know the counsellor well, was finally induced to ask him why ho had the dog with him. and asked what he wasgoing to do with him. The counsellor, swelling ninwclf to his full dignity, replied: “ The full bench is in session, and I am on my wa}' to attend it. I have taken this i dog along with me. that he may seo Juslic. 1 , I and I earn how to growl'" CP* Every school buy knows that a kfto would not fly unless it liml u string tying down. I( is just sti In Iffts. Tho man who is tied down by half « dozen blooming responsibilities and their mother, will make n stronger and higher flight than the old bachelor, who having nothing to keep him steady, is always flundui ing in the mud. II you want to ascend in the world, tie yourself to somebody. [C/'bord Ellcnboruugh once said to a barris ter, upon his asking, in the midst of a boring harangue: “Is it the pleasure of the Court that I should proceed with my statement “ Pleasure, Mr. , has been out of the ques tion for a lung time, but you may proceed.” Dak Tuckkh has turned up {or been turned up) in the goodly city of New Orleans. On the Olh of March, Anno Domini, 1854, he was dis covered at a place called the New Basin, where, we regret to say, bo bad been lying drunk for three days. Utfoslnc to "get out of the way," he was hfled by the strong arms of law, placed in a single wheeled carriage (vulgarly called wheel-barrow) and rolled oil’ to the calaboose. tC/** Sir Godfrey Kncller had the singular for tune of painting the portraits of ten monarchy Ho is said to have given as a reason for prefer ring portrait-painting, that “painters of history make tho dead alive, and do not begin to live themselves till they arc dead. K - A miser gets rich by seeming poor, an ex travagant man grows poor by seeming non. (CT-Tho first Step to greatness is to bo honest. ICT-Son and Daughter—no longer the rated but the rulers. * • KT-What kind of a man do women like best? Why a husband-man of course.' is nothing more uncertain, than a “certain age.” •* I£7'Tn a woman, an ounce of heart is worth a pound of brains. Contentment gives a crown when fortune hath denied it. 1 ’ ; ; (C7*What would the telegraph lino he good for on a listing excursion ? first law of gravity: Ncvqrlaugh at your own joke. i , * [T7*-Wcshouldhke to knowhow manyspokes there are in the wheel of fortune ? " [pT" I low many men wc meet who "might ho” .something, andhow,few[wh6 are! . lf you doubt whether you should kiss a girl, give her the benefit of the doubt and “ go in.” (£7* The modern way of asking for a mar riage license is to say : Clerk give me an, order for a woman! v , . [T7* The fellow who kissed the face of nature, says it didn’t go half as well a 3 the' busses of some of his lady friends. [£7” If you will properly erect the edifice of personal improvement, the foundation must he laid in monel purity. - r 03?'There exists a Turkish proverb,-which o of Solomon’s im ■ portal ion—gold, peacocks and opes.” { xy* “You arc very stupid, Thomas,” sold a country teacher to a llttlo boy, eight years old. ••You aro like a donkey, and what do they do (o euro them of their stupidity ?" “They feed them better and kick them ICSs,” said tho arch llltio urchin. Loko Name. —ln tho last century, there, re sided in Rhodo Island a man whoso parents had bestowed upon him the brief name of Through much-Tribulation-wo-cnter-into-lhe-Kingdom.- of-Hcavcn Clapp, For shortness, he wag colled •Tribhy.” i \h w.