AMERICAN VOLUNTEER.
PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY MORNI&G
0y jotm 11, Bratton.
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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<vdd glide trom window to window,
then. With the same grim fimile width thev re- «nd the prisoner would pass from knot to knot,
collected bo well, wild, “Well, gentlemen, do «nd enj..> 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
<nys : “ Kiss the hand of youreneJny f übtjl you
are able to cut it oft'"
'T The man who seized an opportunity, is
particularly requested to lend a band to toko
tune hy the forelock.
(T7* If you don’t wish to get ongty, never
argue with a blockhead. Remember the duller
the razor, the more you rut yourself and swear.
ZZT There are two reasons why wc don’t
n man : one because wc don’t know him,
mid the other tierause wc do.
[TT'The man who is “acquainted with sor
row." thinks of getting up a new list of friends.
Cloud* don't “go" like sunshine.
f; T" Judge Richardson once said that “every
[lung wo* foreknown, expect what would be (he
n 'ult of u trial before a pelit jury."
fj" The young lady who was pressed to sing,
has re.-oimeii her natural shape, and now plays
upon the guitar most delightfully.
TT’The recent marriage of Mr. Day and Miss
Field, presents the singular anomaly, that al
though he won the field, she gained the day.
That is true beauty which has not only
n substance, but ft spirit; a beauty that we
must, intimately know, justly to appreciate. -
i; - /"It is said that North Carolina produces
within its boundaries the staple of every Stale
m the I moil, nml is the only one that does it.
r~/ There is n gentleman in the legislature
who can he trusted with any secret; for nothing
he can say will be believed. — Ohxo paper.
fTT” Hurley hurley is said to owe its origin
to llurleigh* ami Burleigh. two neighljoring
families, that Idled the country arouud with
contest and violence. /
JJ3/’' No man can do anything against his wljk
said a metaiihysician. ‘ Faith," said Pat, **»
had a brother who went to Botany Bay against
i his will, faith an’ he did."
(T - A Lawyer, on his death-bed, willed his
whole property to the lunatic asylum, Bftying
that \w dvsm.a U should go to the same class
of persons he look it from.
C'T’ U was a INirtlaud lady that said she would
moke a poor sailor, and to which a nautical
-frt«nU ropliod, but you malio an wtOoUen t
male though.
f {£/=* There never was a party, faction, sect, or
cabal, in which the mast ignorant were not the
most violent: for a bee is not a busier animal
than a blockhead.
( V 'T* An adopted citizen wrote home that ho
was employed by the State. On coming over
they found it just as he had stated—ho was up
at Sing-Sing serving out a sentence for life.
O* Tho title “C/ar”is a corruption of tbo
word “Ciesar,” which was originally assumed
os a title of honor by the grand dukes and re
cently assumed by the emperors of Russia.
KIT* A correspondent inquires whether “ tho
light of other days”was ever used to illuminate
the streets of London. AUo, if quills from tho
“wings of tho morning” are ever used for pens.
[117” “ Mother, can’t I go and have my dag
uerreotype taken ?” ‘No, my child, I guess it
isn’t worth while.” *'Well, then, you might
let me have a tooth pulled; I never go any
w here.”
KIT" Some people make some strange mistakes
ns to the nature of angels. They talk of women
as “angels " There’s not a word in the whole
Ihhle aUmt funale angels. They are always of
tho other se.v
[TT* The greatest pleasure connected with
wealth consists m acquiring it. Two months
after a man comes into a fortune, ho feels just
as prosy and fretful as when lie worked for “four
and six” a day.
CUT* A gentleman the other day in speaking
of a property that had passed through the hands
of several brothers ana back again to the own
er ; cooly remarked that they were merely 'ploy-
I mg boil mfh if.”
[He 1-ord Holland told of a man remarkable
for absence of mind, w ho, dining once on a shah
bv repast with a friend, fancied himself in his
own house.and begun to apologisoforlhe wretch
edness of the dinner.
fl A newlv married man declares that ifhe
had only an inch inon a of happiness, ho could
mt live, ilis w ife and sister aro oldigcd to roll
him on the floor, and spat him with a shingle
every day. to pirvcnl him being 100 happy.
fT* A farm dow n cast is a picture for a poet,
ft consists of two ponds, n crop of stumps, four
rods of rail fence, ami a shed without any roof.
More picturesque than profitable, we should
say.
[H?-To make a young man look wretched,
(ell him that his miserly, rich old uncle, is get
ting better veiyfost. It is equal to a two-hornc
colic, with double twists, a cracking headache,
and the rheumatism all around.
(TT* A Sentimental chap in Rhode Island, in -
tends to petition to Congress, at its next sos--
sion, for an appropriation to improve the chan
nels of attvetfon, so that henceforth the connm
of true love may run smooth.
(£7“ The guilt that feels not its own shame Is
wholly incurable. It was the redeeming prom
ise in tho fault of Adam, that, with Urn com
mission of his crime, came the sense of Ida na
kedness.—W. G . Simms.
ft returned ambassador introduced
to King James a Spanish nobio of mean intel
lect, but covered with Jewelry, Jamie exclaimed,
• “Hoot, mon, and yo mind «>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.