AMERICAN YOLUETEER. roDLiaitHD Evilnr TnrjlispAT morning' By. Jolm B» Brattou. TE UM Si ScoaotuPiiON 4*—On o Dollar, and .Fi ity Corns, paid In. advance 5 Two-Dollars If paid within tbo : yeac; and Two-Dollara and Fifty .Cents* .if ,not. uaidrwithin the year. 'Thosolerms will,b<}rigid ly adherod to ih every ihstanc&v No subscription discontinued until all arrearages are paid .unless ht tho option of the Editor. - Advertisements—Accompanied by tlio .Cash, and not exceeding one sqUare, will bo .inserted three tiroes.for one Dollar, and twenty-five cents fo'r each'addltional insertion. Those of a greatbr . length in proportion;'' - ■ - . '■ Job-PanmNO —Such'' as Hand Bills, Posting Bills, Blanks,.Labolfl,. &c./ &c., oxer fcutodwith accuracy and:at.tho sljortcafc.notlco. TilE UCHT AT ROME, ♦The-light at' homo 1- how brigbUt,beams; : When'ovening shades around.Ußfall.}. - And from the lattice for it gleam*, v .‘To love, to restj and'comfort call. .' • tired with'tho' tolls of .day,',. • The strife for glory, gold, pr fame, How sweet to seek tbo'qniot way,. ~ ' hero loving lips Hvill lisp - our narno ■■ ' „ : ArOm^lhoLi^it at-floiuo* frhon tlirough-tfio darkYmd’stormymghi, . . The woary wanderer homewrird,hies,. .. - : liow Cheering is that twinkling light, ; ■ ; • which .through, the forest gloom he spies.! ' it istha light athdtrielhe fouls, , Thatloving hearts wllLgroet Jiiin there,.. And softly tluoiigh his bosom atpalii , That joy and'iovo that vanish care, ; - VAroUmntiio Light at Homo; 5 The. Light aliromdjiVhoutGr at last _ It greets thoßoararm through tho storm/' -. lie fools no more the chilling blast, . : • That beataupon his manly form. .V/- Long years upon the sea have fled, • • Since Jlary gave her parting kiss: But the sad tears which then she shed.- . ‘ Will now be paid iyith rapturous bliss, • Around the Light at Home, Tho £lght at Homo I how-still ami sweet It peopsTrom yonder cottage door—; 'Tho weary laborer .tb.grect— -'•- I . ' When tho rough toils of day are o’er. Sad Is tho Boul that docs not know.. The blessings that Its boams.impart, Tho cheerful hopes and joys that flow,, ~ And lighten np the heaviest heart,', ■ • Around the. Light at Homo. MiMlanwim. THE GIPSY'S .PROPHECY. nr nakiuroN, Poor.Mqrgah, I hin\ well 1 he was .a flue, taaDly.fcllolv, f with a hand .open as day, and a.heart thcUm£\m}, charity.’.; Prom boy*, hood;we had/grownupi co-malcsin ourstiidics and amusements: and .when' we left college to gether, we sWod in tho World without any par-, licidar ami or decision with regard toourfuture prospects. ' ‘ -r ’ Thus’ situated, with light hearts and lighter i purses, Various were thodcsigns- we projected for the'advancement of our fortunes, hut every Ruccccding day saw us as undecided as.ever.— Among the many amusements'.wc followed.to beguile the, time, was that.of .angling, and there was hot a stream or river for fifty, rtiilcs- around with’which-we werenot acquainted: and what ■amusement is more congenial to ’the unison of ..hearts, than following in fellowship the wind ing through dell and dingle, now losing itself in the dark and silent forest—then .dashing forth in thc’joyous sunshine through the ver dant meadow, or sweeping tho base of some ruggld cliff, whoso shadows full cold and. cheer less on the face of tho sweet waters, like the frown of an oppression on tho face of the poor and joyous, chilling and darkening tho bright springs of the hearts, - . Tn one of these piscatorv periimbulalions/ W chanced to.alight on a tribe of that wandering race known as Gipsies, who had formed their encampment in'tho romantic valley’ of Yarrow, on the borders of the river of that name, render ed immortal by the sweet tnurse of the poet of Bangor. It was near the hour of twilight, and by tho closest calculation, we were at least some woven miles from any habitation, while pursuits of tho day, aided by tho breeze from the river, had increased our appetites to a considerable degree of keenness Our baskets, however, were well filled with the spoils of tho ‘river chase,’ | and Morgan proposed thatforafrolic, weshould | request some of tho tribe to prepare for us a • repast from tho same. To this I gladly assent ed, and in a few minutes we found ourselves in the midst of the group, partaking of a supper that would have tempted tho appetite of Epicurus, and. formed a graphic subject for tho pencil of Salvator Rosa. So joyously did the time speed on, that tho moon had ascended high in tho heavens, ere we remembered that wo had yet to find a shelter for the night, when springing to our feet, Morgan tendered apiece of money to our gipsy host, with thanks for his courtesy. Tho gipsy drcwhlmsclfpromlly up.'andcnsl ihg upon Morgan a look of disdain, said,‘We ask nothing for our hospitality—for bUr art alone wo receive in exchange such filthy lucre.’ , ‘And what is thincart, friend I'inquiredMor gan laughingly. • ‘Au art young man,* replied the gipsy, ‘that is denied to your race—a legacy from our fath ers—by which wo arc enabled to tell the destiny of man—but you say yon have yet some dis tance to travel. ’Twill bo a fearful night.— Look I a circle is around tho moon, a ripple is on the river and the winds arc rushing through the gorge of-tho mountains. Young men you will not press a pillow to night; better 'share the shelter of my shielding ’till morning. 1 - - Although I would willingly have accepted tho oiler of the gipsy, yet Morgan Insisted upon our pursuing our journey, and bidding adieu to our nost, we departed with a promise that wo should again revisit them. For some timo so tranquilly did. tho evening continue, that wp began to ridicule tho prognos tications of the gipsy; nay, were ungenerous enough to surmise that ho had some sinister design in asking us to share his habitation; but i wo were soon convinced of thecorrcctncssof his judgment. Tho moon became obscured—big; drops began to-fall, accompanied with vivid flashes of lightning, while the distant thunder hurtled hoarsly among tho mountains. To add to tho dilemma, wo .were now in tho very heart of the vale of Yarrow, where tho river shapes its Course m innumerable’ directions, while every Step wo advanced was attended with tho chance of immcrging in its waters. T at onco advised n halt, and however severe the tempest, to await the dawn of tho morning; but theWrepid spir it of Morgan laughcdnlmy terrors, and wo con tinued our path, on every sido. surrounded by danger. For about a mile wo had thus proceeded— tho storm increasing to a tempest, and every gleam of lightning out serving to show that Wo Were plunging deeper and deeper into dan ger, when all of ft sudden a sullen sound, ns if somo heavy substance had fallen into tho river, struck upon my car, and tho next moment tho lightning revealed to my view my friend, strug gling In tho depths of tho ngry river—then carao impenetrable darkness, amt tho storm howled out with redoubled fury. I stood speechless, motionless and terror-stricken. I knew I was within a few feet of the river, and my strength foiled mo. I fell to tho ground, clutching tho heather with tho convulsive grasp ol death— then followed an tvwfulsilenco, as if tho elements had paused to listen to tho cries, nqd gloat upon tho struggles of my friend, and in that time,, distinctly could I hear tho voico of Morgan call ing for help, which, alas! I could him. Sense forsook mo, and when I awoke, I BY; JOHN* B." BRATTON. VOL 41. found our gipsy* host standing >6ycr.-'me with a . lantern andr an aged ‘female- of .. the . same tfibo, using; every means: to.restorC mp. to Con sciousness./. , . Jtlyfirst question?-was,. ‘My.„ menu ,• is he lost r r : .v‘.V: , •>' ,'*'•■• ;’ir . -‘No,Vainswered Jhe gipsy,;jbo-is aafe.afc'my shielding.: I, thint/ypung-map,’ continued ho, .‘yoV will not in futuirc A di6r^ ,of ah older.head thah your'pwn.l?;'':',^*I'.'.-' 1 '.'.-' T* . ‘ -‘Never,’ I thnnkfully'ixclaijmcd, ’tut guide me to mo behold him. : Are;you. not deceivingC, • ‘ V . ■ ~ x ‘Alurdock : Airlcy never deceived the ju s - tbcgenerouß,-’said he, v but arise! pee you’pot thenvaiers.arc faßt-gaining upon us 1’ aiid.ashe held aloft'hiS latfternVl beheld the w.Udandan gry'rivcr.lhshing ils banks like some Imprison ed monster; ahd every moment, rising-higher'? the moon was now struggllhgthrough the mur ky clouds, nnd showing the \v : holc.Valley "as. an immenselake, while from tlicaurrouDding moun tains a thousand .streams 'were roaring, leaping and dashing, to m.ingle.their treasures with'tho hell of waters that swelled heneath.-,, ‘ Not twa hundred paces from the gipsies eh* -campmonthad this-accident bcfallcn':UB. It appeared from the moment we .had been be. nighted, instcadbf going forward, wq had. ac tually retracted our steps, and lucky for us it was thatwc had done'so, otherwise the cries of Morgan would never have reached the cars of the gipsy, who acquainted with each pool, and swcopoftho river, had at once rushed to an eddy where.heknew-hemost becarricd,and ar rived jiiat in time to extricate him from his aw ful situation, when strength' had began to foil him. and hope had forsaken his heart. I- need hardly tell you that our faceting was. a joyful one.'- V ' . ‘Did I not ,tell you,’ said the gipsy exciting ly, ‘you would not pressa pillow to-night ?’ . ‘You are righ’tf. friend ?’ said Morgan, *1 ho I longer doubt your art, aha now that' .we must remain hero .until- morningi suppose that you gwcus.a further'proofof-it.. What‘say you, my worthy preserver.?’ . ' ‘With me, sir,’ answered Murdock, for, such wafi.hisname, ’resides notthearfof divination- It dwells but in the seventh son of tho seventh sonrand such I amnot.*- ‘ITow came you thereto-know of the danger that beftl iner , ’ . ‘From my mother, who-by a sign on your approach, that a storm, was gathering in the mountains which would overtake you.’ ‘ ‘And where Isshc?* asked Mdrgari. *1 must ofler her my gratitude.*,, . . . •Thcroflirl’.said.ho, pointing to a figure seat ed in the corner of the nut; at thcxsomcHimc she ,slowly aV.*se,-and - approaching‘.Morgan, gazcd intcntly upon hirm ' - - •My goodmothe'r,’ said MorgKn, ‘t feel gn&U lyindebted to you; how can f reward your kindness V . • • .. -, ‘I ask none,’-she answered. ~‘Let me look upon theo, Poor youth, .thine is a. melancholy destiny,’ and she covered her face in her, tatter.* cd garments and wept. .• .. ‘This promises to bo a singular adventure,-* said m3'friend. ‘Butcomo,’ • *, “If thou canst look info the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not,” r “Tell mo tho worst that may befall md.” 'Como hither,’ she said leading him to tho <|nor. ‘The storm is; now waning—the stars .burn brightly once more in tho heavens. Look ! t’ybnpla'd'et’ncar tHo belt of Orion ? ’TfS , tUine; J 'nnd her long sinewy artfls towards it, making certain'gestures, and muttering to herself incoherent sentences; • My merry friend became completely subduct! by her singular manner, and gazed upon the planet most intense!}*. •Thy name is Morgan,’ she said. ‘lie started, astonished at her knowledge of it, exclaiming, •Mysterious being! how dost thou know it V ‘From the stars—those fountains of truth.— Listen! Twice hast thy evil genius ordained that thou shouldst be in peril. To-night hast thou passed from the first, but the second will prove fatal.’ ‘But when—where?* naked Morgan carncst- ly. ‘Where the summer blooms not, nor the song Thine is a inclan- of tho birds is ever heard- choly destiny: look! thy star is clouded— thou bright haired son of a true mother’s bosom —thou gallant, generous 3 011th !’ and the tears fell fast and freely from her hollow and glisten ing eyes. ‘Woman,* cried Morgan, ‘you thrill my soul. Speak to mo plainly. I have a heart for any danger.’ T know thou hast, but thy star has depart ed, and all further presence is denied me. Re member once thou haatbcenrcscacdfromdcath- In seven years shalt -thou —but enough V and site glided slowly from the hut, leaving Morgan transfixed to the spot. ‘Come young gentlemen,’said Murdock, ‘lt is time you thought of repose. A bedofheather is all that I can offer; but better that, than a bed of the bottom of tho Yarrow.* Our couches were soon made, and casting ourselves upon them, I wos in a few minutes lost in slumber ; when I awoke, the gray dawn was illumining the hut. I looked for Morgan, but his couch was empty—the rest of the in mates were buried in slcpp. I rose cautiously, and gained the open air, and looking abroad I discovered a human figure at some distance, gazing intently upon the heavens. I approach ed it and found it to be Morgan. The gipsy’s words had sunk so deep in his heart, ho con fessed to me, ho could not sleep, and that ho had wandered forth to discover the star of his destiny, as pointed out to him by the female.— I endeavored to rally himoutof hissuperstition, and wo returned to thohut where partaking of a substantial meal, and bidding once more adieu to our gipsy friends, wo proceeded on our jour ney. Morgan soon recovered his natural How of spirits, and by the time we had gained the city, the whole affair was nearly forgotten, or when referred to, it served but to roako merry with, in the society of our companions. Many years after this adventure, I was re siding m one of the principal seaports of Eng land, where I became intimately acquainted with a captain of n vessel employed in whaling excursions to the shores of Spitsbergen. From his agreeable manners, and the glowing descrip tion hegavemoof his adventures inthatdesolate region, I felt a strong desire to visit, and I had no sooner expressed to that effect, than lie tendered me a free passage, and thq hospitali ties of his vessel. Being compartively my own 'master, I at once accepted his offer, and m the spring of 1820, wo set sail from the port of Hull, in England, with-ft gallant crow, and a commander brave as he was generous. After a run of <lO days, during which we visit ed the Orkney Isles, to complete our comple ment of men and receive additional stores, wo came to qnchor off one of the Islands lying be tween 9 and B. lon., and 70. 30 and 80 N. lot. The Reason selected for the -ilshery, is during tho short summer with which these dreary re gions avo visited—when vegetation shoots forth wUhspcli singular rapidity, that thospot which perhaps the night before was iv plain of ice, will appear ia tho morning a fresh and verdant mea dow—tho shrubs will bo clothed with leaves — the air bo heavy with fragrance, and tho scream “ODH COUNTRY—.JTAV IT ALWAYS DB RIOnX—BUT Rl6nT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.” S'.-- .;V :i, of tlje plover the in k everyyditt:qUdnV-,;Havlng, been .extremely fortunate m completing burdargo Inavery short space time, CaptVDongls, for such wag his name; antl’fnyfielf resolved to enjoy the fine shboting which was to found among the Islands. One day, bo exciting.hhd'been our sport, that .we found ourselves a considerabledis taheo from the Bhor&7~indc(;d so'.fay that we knew it would •be impossible'fo.-rcgam'our/ship before night fall. ; - Consulting our compass,.wo therefore fc slovcd.tomalco a short path across.thpuslnnds, go that by gaining the shore we- might *bV dis cerned by'tlib Crew, and save -thcm.frdmu auy apprehension respecting, our, safety. .-ITavnig: reached, the* coast, and proceeded' nbbuttwo leagues, to.oiir, surprise we saw-a : large vessel;: as,if lying at anchor, or rather imbedded in the ice. We were at a loss to account for l her sud den appearance in that quarter* for that morn ing only, we had discovered no symptoms of any kind of craft as far as our glass'could; descry., Our curiosity was therefore strongly excited, and wc stopped.to examine her minutely. At first we were inclined to believe it was some op tical delusion, but a fog which for Boroe. hours had been' gathering, suddenly clearing, away, j our own and the strange vessel were plainly perceptible, occupying distant situations, and , at least three leagues.frpm cach other. '- : • Prom, the sppt'onjyhich wc; stood, wb could not be more than a' quartcr of a league from the | stranger, with.oho entire sheet of ice extending to her. My friend-ftf onre proposed that we should visit her. -'As we henred her, wc discov ered-that the sails hung in. tatters, tho rigging was broken'and entangled, and the .bowsprit gone. Still nosj’mptoins of hej*'being manned , were visible. Wc now stood .Within one hun dred paces of. her.. She wasa large brigof 1000 tons, wedged firmly'in the ice:.' 1 ' It was appar ent that she-had suffered much. 'I. fired my g im _ s tni it attracted ho notice, save that a sol itary.curlcwwoso from the declc.screamingand. wheeling around, as-if .unwilling td lcavo “ the nilonljnonarcli of tho deep.!’ With considera ble difficulty wo ascended her side, .when, step ping oh.board, the first thing that raefourgazo was tho-form pf’.a" dog stretched out as if in slumber. ,’l'called tb'..U, but it.moved not —I approached' it—it was stlft and.lifeless. The carcass was perfectly entire, without the slight est marks of decay; preserved; no doiibt, by the severity of the climate.,’. Everywhere around us lay emblems of neglect.ancVdesolalionl It was plain the'vessel had been deserted, but for what cause we could not surmise. ".The coverings of lha hatches, which had been misplaced, dis played a valuable cargo.. It was a singular and, solemn sight to find thus a gallant vessel at the •mercy of the winds and waves. We dcsccndcd the companion-way to the cabin, and found tho door unlocked—all was darkness. I placed my foofupon some substance, which gave way wiUv a v crashing noise beneath it. - I bent down to feel, when I encountered a human hand, cold and Clammy—l staggered back—at tho same moment -Captain Dougins, striking a light, a Scene of horror hurst upon our sight, whichl tonguo nor pen can never describe. Around | the table’ sat several bodievfercct and coldjn the embrace of’death, each in' a diflefcnt atti tude, as if it had been suddenly fixed to the snot. Their eyes were gone, butt the empty were tho flesh yet covered the ertunte-- nanccs, in a wonderful distinct state of preser vation,and over which a green and viclons mould had'gathcrcd. On tho floor, on * tlifl looker's, in every quarter, lay bodies cold and ftfelcss, ami around "h st'ovb, In which a few ashes remained, a group of unfortunate beings, as if in their expiring moments they had crowd ed togetherto catch the last gfew from the dy ing embers! Ih this chair at the head of the* tablcsatwliat had apparently been the Captain. Dcforc him laj' thc log-book, and in.his lifeless fingers was grasped a pen. ns if ho had expired in tho act of writing. His features, like the others, were cold and rigid. A singular fooling took possession of me'; I felt that strange, nn dcfinablc sympathy of soul which makes us, in the society of certain individuals whom wc have met for the first time, to feel that they nro not altogcrher unknown. I looked upon Uic page; the contents ran nearly ns follows : “ 183 d, Dcc-Tth.— One hundred ami forty three days wc have now been frozen in ice, and still no prospect of relief; five of the crew ex pired to day—hut twenty-seven now remain, and of these four arc in the pangs of death provisions nearly exhausted. May tho Lord, in his infinite mercy, come to our rescue. “ Deo. Bth.— Death has been busy during the night—fifteen more have expired—tho living twelve mo exhausted, they cannot remove the bodies. God’s will be done ! “ Dec- 9lh.—But five of us now remain—it is plain that our sufferings in a fcw hours must terminate, * Tho last spark of fire has gone out. | Two biscuits and ft quart of water aro all the [substance left—delirium has seized on two, of us. I feel siok at heart. I “Dee.. 10, half past 10, A. M.—A heavy gale is now blowing—tho mate expired at 0, this evening. lam now alone, tho last survivor of two hundred gallant hearts—mysight falls or dso the lamp burns dimly—my limbs have lost all feeling—my heart is pulseless—it must bo death. Oh, God ! receive my soul. My dear, dear mother It was the last word ho had written,- as his soul had taken flight. Tho mystery was now explained—tho vessel had been frozen in the ice, with all hopes of es cape cut off. and the crow had fallen a sacrifice to cold and famine. Feeling it a duty to obtain tho name of .the vessel and her commander, wo turned to tho first nape of the log, and therein was inscribed, «• Log of the good ship Triton, Captain Morgan. Hull, 1824.’’ , Morgan, the very name of my old compan ion ! Could it bo ? Perhaps but a similarity of name;, but my curiosity was awakened, and I determined to unravel the wonderful coinci dence. I remembered that in his boyhood ho had received a severe wound upon tho forehead, which had left an incffliccablo scar. I removed tho cap, and to my horror, recognized, but too strongly, an indubitable proof that it was tho noblo-hcftrtcd, genreous Morgen, who had thus miserably perished. With melancholy hearts wo left the ill-fated bark, and early next morning, with tho nasis tanoo of the crew, consigned tho bodies to tho earth, over which I placed a rude cross, carved with the initials of my friend. As I planted it in the carth.'Hhe prophecy of the gipsy rung in my cars—•• Twice shalt thou bom peril—lno second shall bo fatal !’* Having thus paid tho last obsequies to the dead, and secured the papers of the ill-starred Triton, the same afternoon we heaved anchor, and ft brisk Jireczc springing up, wo were soon clear of those dreary regions, upon our home ward path on the wide waste of waters. K 7" Mrs. Brown keeps boarders. Shrewd In stitution, that Mrb. D. Llkoa to economise— Pula salt In tho white sugar—says It goes fur tho r. Mr. Polllkliw thinks bo loo—tho sugar bowl wont out tho window t’other evening.— Mixes saw-dust in her tnploco puddings— qaysit Is more healthy. Has two meals on Smjday— thinks people tbol better for not ootlng “so much.” Thinks bologna sausages very fine— because It keeps tho boarders sick half tho tlm. Somewhat, that Mrs. Brown. Front rooms $O, roar $4 60 por woolc. CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY) JULY 6, | ' . A MOUND IS IS TjljE OBAYE-YAltDo' Amonnd is iii thorgrave-yard, and narrow (red, . 1 ’-V'No’graas In growing on it,-,, , " Ami no marble atllshend; Yomaygoandwcephoside it, ■ • -To mav kneeltyd kiss Die aod, -*Bnt'yO’ll ! flnd HO balm for sorrow, . I In the cold and^ 1 silent clod. There's fingnlall in tlio'bonflchold, It’s'ddsolato and lone; For a fondly cherished Mother, ,■ -, ' , Frpra the dear old homo has down : -■ A loving form la missing, ' „ V,• A heart has ceased to beat ;;', _ And tho ohain of love-lies. shattered, ■ - 1 .At the desolatof-’sfoct. ' , d ’ ' Ilcmovo the empty bedstead, Her clothing jrainway . And all her cherished trinkets, WJth your treasures lay; Strive not to ehec« Die.tear-drops, - That fall like Svithmor tain i For the sun of bfpo shines thro’ them To shall again. Oh I think wliori Veils jmr Mother, _ Not in ber huiublft bed •, Not in the distant grtne-yard, With the still atld'mbuldering dead i Bat in a hoavenly“njanslon, Upon the Savior’s breast, ! With our father’s arrtis about her, '• She takes her sainted rest. THE WHITE-tliUli PAPERS, DT THG'orf.D -’n?;- ' “You’ro a hateful, vtnntalizing thing 1”' ex claimed Miss Popkin,'!lJo pretty nmntua-maker, to her late lover, Mr. Augustus Teuton, a young enrpehtef, who had just set up for hlmsell, and was to have married (l>6 pctulenfc beauty, whom hu had jrtst accused oJVtho unpardonable wn of flirting. , i “Very well, all verjj .well," said the young roan,- in that tone which, whatever the words may bo,, expresses tbat'.everythlug is us wrong os possible. ”Havo it asyoulikej I am‘glad I found you,but in season.” “And I found out £pur hateful temper long | ago. What a miserable creature I should have boon, If I had hmrried yon,dial hal ha!” and 1 the pretty creature laughed bitterly ami hystor-! ically..- “Now we’vo'sawed ft .off square,” sam the carpenter, “it’d no use to'have any splicing and I joining work afterwords. I'mean the separation j ; shall bp final.” * 1 “Our minds agroo'on that matter,” said the I young lady, tartly. Sh« flow to a table, tore o pon the drawer, and plucked out a packet of I tetters, which she tossed to him contemptuous ! }y.‘ “last evening yJU rent mo the letters I’d 1 written to you, a«dT'- ; tdro ’em into bits —and 1 hero are your false letters tonic—all full ut lulsc [ hoods, sir—chock full.” „ “They Weren’t’half as tender os those you wrote to mo, 5 ’ roturflcjtUho carpenter. “You’re a vile croitUro!” screamed the Utile milliner. And she-Toro* otit ol her bosom a| mlniaturo ahd.hadwdrn there for tyccUs, ana j hurled it at tiny offender. “Take your picture bRck s .--ThAt,was falffe, too, like all the jest. It was sliockingiy Hiit^Med;”-. “It happened lb by‘a daguerreotype,” said thdyoungcarpenter, Mho pocketed thoaffront. .“Begonoy. alrl” cijJcL tho young lady, stain ping her feet.' ... • . “I oboyyoii with replied tnoro jotted bins; “and uf- yoar -flow.- coil-quest. young fellow-j fifty, at least—wears one of hh wigs. I over heard you last night assuring him that ho was 1 tho first that over touched your maiden heart— | and,you only secured tho little weazen-faced ! booby by that t With these slinging' I 'words the young man withdrew. What hud severed those young hearts? The merest trifles that oftenest lay waste the gardens of this world—thoughtless coquet ry—.flirtation on the one aide, and groundless jealousy on tho other. But the rupture had boon ellocted, aud now to render It irremediable, the fair Julia hastened to secure her withered, beau. . . Frizzle, tho harbor, had that morning received a note from tho fair one, requesting bis profes sional services, to dress her hair lorn ball, to which they were both Invited, and ho came to arrange her raven locks and pload his love at the saint} time, lie was n little, time-worn, weazen faced fellow, prodigiously self-conceltcd, and more exacting und jealous in his disposition than even tho carpenter. ■ He soon mudo his appearance, paid his re spects, and commenced his duties. “ What a delightful occupation I” ho murmur- 1 od, na he loaned over the head of hlamomorn/o, “thus to arm beauty for conquest. And to fool that while wo are preparing her for admiration, our heart boats only for her ‘armorer.’ ” “Aud have none ol thoso fine ladles whoso heads yon dross, ever touched your heart, Juli us asked Miss Popkln. ‘ Don’t pull my hair back so.” “Can you ask mo? ’ murmured Frizzle. “>ol no eyes over touched my soul till yours beam ed upon It,” sajd tho enamored barber. “And your heart, dearest, was Untouched, notwith standing tho world said you lovod that stupid blockhead, Teuton V* “I didn’t loyodilm. onoblU I only endured his company, tfccausoM had no one else to go about with me,” anavtored Julia, readily, hut not without a secret tvriVgo of conscience. Frizzle was taking off n curl paper, but that did not prevent his [talking 1 yot ho was suddenly silent. _ ~ “Whnt are you doing?” cried Miss ropkin, for tho barber stood behind her chair out of sight. You don’t answer me, Mr. Frizzle,” contin ued (ho young lady. No reply. Tho milliner turned her bead, and behold tho barber, standing transfixed, with an open note In his hands, gazing oo H as if there was a horrid fascination In its character. The truth Instantly flashed upon her mind. It was one of her lovo-lottora to Tonton, which she meant to have destroyed, but which she had carelessly employed In putting up hor hair. “Glvo mo that paper, instantlyl” she ex claimed, springing to her feet. “Not till I’ve road every word of It! cried tho barber. “It’s your hand-wrlting-yoitrnamo at tho bottom. You call that carpenter your dearest love, ifnd you call mo o woazcn-facea old monkey. F. stands for Frizzle, marm, and ‘woazon-facod old monkey In a wig,’ moans me. 1 1 wear a wig,, ma'am 1 You’roa tlooolvcr, 1 ma’am.” „ . I “Who aro you speaking to In that way? i cried tho deep, manly volco of the young car- I pontor, who had traced Frizzle to the house, ! and wished to ruin his happiness, ns hi# own I had boon destroyed. I “To tlmtglpsoyl thatfilrtl” 1 “Oh 1 Augustus,” cried tho yonng lady, bur i sting Into tears, “will you suffer this old wretch 1 to call mo names ?” Tho appeal was hot made In vain, lno yonng carpenter seized tho barbijr, grinning llko nn old vindictive ape, by tho nape ot ms nock, and tho next momcntlio was spinning down tho stnlrcaso without an opportunity to count tho stops. , „ . Tho noct tells ua that tho quarrels bf lovers end in ft renewal of Ibvo, Before Augustus oft tho folr Julia, they were on wore endearing term# than over, and wboirho-'d'ont away, ho took with him every scrap of the ‘while curl pa pers,* to bo laid up with - rose oaves, and pre served for ftituro reference, while tho dismissal pf tho,bachelor ,barber, was as final as It was . . , So much for lovers’ quarrels. % 1854, JESSIE, THE FLOWER OF IMJiIASE. Tho following sketch forms an interesting ep isode intholifls of the talented, but unfortunate Scottish poet, Tantinlilll. There are few of our readers, wo suppose, but are familiar with tho bcautiful poom, ahd tho delightful music, “Jes sie, tho Flower'of Dunblane:” Tho fair object Of this song was a bonnio las- - sie in Dunblane, Her family were of poor ex traction, and Jessie herself was; contented with a .peasant’s lot. When. Tannahill became ac quainted with her she' was in,her ‘‘teens,” a slight,.dimple-cheeked, happy lassie, her hnlr yellow-colored and luxuriant, her eyes largo and lull,, overflowing with tho voluptuous Jangour which is so becoming in young blue eyes with golden lashes. Tannahill was struck with her beauty, and as in all things he wns dntbualastioal, became forthwith her ardent worshipper. Bui her heart wag not to be won.' Young, thought less, and panting to know and see Ibe world, she left her poor amourante “to con songs to bis mistress’ eye-brows,” while she recklessly ram bled along the flowery mends of Dunblane, or ot an evening sang his inspired verses to him 1 with tho most mortifying non-chalenc c. This was a two-fold misery to tho sensitive poet. A , creature so sweetly elegant, so dear to him, so 1 vary lovely and innocent, and yet, withal, So en cased in insensibility, as apparently to be neith er conscious of tho beautyof tho verses (rum bling on her tongue, nor caring for (he caresses of hßr lover. ’Twas too much { to mark all this and feel it with the feelings of a poet, was the acme of misery. But tho “Flower of Dunblane” was not that unfeeling, unimmaglntativo being which Tannahill pictured her. She was a crea ture all feeling, all imagination, although ho had not that in his person or manners to engage her attention or to arrest her fancy. The young atlectlons are not to bo controlled. Love—al mighty love—must be free, else It ceases to be love. Tnnnahill was plain in his person and uncouth in his manners,and felt and expressed discontent at the cruel disappointment which It had been his unhappy fate to encounter. Jessie, on the contrary, looked upon the world as a brilliant spectacle yet to bo seen and enjoyed—as a vast paradise full of the beauty of heaven and ol earth, where men walked forth in the imago of their Creator, invested with his attributes, and woman (rod proudly amidst the lovely creation, jan angel venerated and adored. To express dis j satisfaction under all the circumstances was to I her mind the extravagance of a misanthrope, (be I madness of a real lover of misery, and a suffi cient cause for her not to respect him. Both viewed the world through a false medium, and their deductions, although at variance, gave col or to their minds and accelerated their fate.— Jessie could not comprehend what appeared to her the lolly of her suitor. She relished not his sickly sentiment, all womankind over did and do, sho scorned a cooing lover. The hard was driven to despair, and summoning up an unwonted energy of mind, departed, and left his adored to her youthful aberations. Soon alter this period the song of “Jessie, the Flower ] of Dunblane,” together with the music, was pub lished and became apubllclavorltu ; it was sung ' everywhere, In theatres arid and at parties} a world of.pralsa.was showered upon it from wom an's flatteringlips, and men became mad to know 1 the adored subject of thd lay. In a short period ’ It was discovered- Jcsslo AlontcTfh, tho pretty ’ poasant.of Dunblane, was tho favored one. . From all quarters yonng men and bachelors ffo6hcd,;(o sod hep, and her own sex were curl j •ana aridtcrKical.-*' JVfohy promising Jdntfw paid their addresses to her, and exporlonoodthb same reception as hor first lover. 0 essio became really enamored. A rakish spark from Midlothian, adorned with education, being of polished manners, ami confident from wealth and superiority of rank, gained her young affec tions. She 100 credulously trusted in his un hallowed professions. Tho ardor of first love overcame hot batter judgment, and, abandoning hersolf to hor love-passion, she made an Impru dent escape from tho protection ol her parents, and soon, found herself In elegant apartments near tho city of Edinburgh. Tho song o( neglect ed Taunahlll was to his Jessie both a glory and a curso, while U brought her Into notice find en hanced her beauty, U laid tho foundation of her Anal destruction. Popularity is a dangerous el evation, wheflior tho object of It be a peasant or a prince, temptation crowd around it, and snares arc laid on every band. “Who would be emi nent,” said a distinguished child of popularity, “if they knew tho peril, tho madness, nnd dis traction of mind to which the creature of tho popular breath Is exposed ?” 'When tho poet heard ot his beloved Jessie, his heart almost burst with mental agony, nnd, working himself into the enthusiastic frenzy of Inspiration, pour ed forth a torrent of song, moro glowing and en ergetic than over before dropt In burnlngnccents froth Itia tongue# It Is to bo lamented, Hint in a lit of disgust ho afterwards destroyed those po etic records of his passion and resentment. Ere three years had revolved (heir triple cir cuit after Jessie left her father’s homo, she was ii changed woman. Slio was destitute In her splendid habitation. Ilorbluo oyes looked piti ful on all things around her, the oval cheeks weru indented by tho hand of misery, and thy fhco and person tho picture of an unhppy, but almablo being. How changed was tho Hguro clothed In silk, which moved on (ho banks ol the Forth, from the happy lively glrlln Dunblane, dressed In tho rustle garb of a peasant \ But this is a subject too painful to dwell on; let us hasten to.tho catastrophe. It was on an after noon In July, a beautiful sunny afternoon, the air was calm and pure. Tho twin Islands of the ■ Forth, like vast emeralds set In a lake of silver, rose splendidly o’er tho shining waters, which now and then gurgled and mantled fhclr bases. Fifoshlro was spread forth like a map, her hun dreds oflnland villages and cots tranquilly sleep ing In tho sunshine. The don of tho artizan’s hammors In Klrkaldy and Quoonsferry smote tho still air, and DunformUnu’s aproned Inhabitants scattered forth tholr whitened wobs boheath tho noontide sun. On tho opposite shore, Loith dis gorged her black smoko, which rolled slowly in volumes to tho soa. Edinburgh caslto, like o mighty spirit from tho “vast deep,” reared her gray bulwarks high In air { and Arthur’s Seat roso hugely and darkly In tho back ground.— choruses of fishermen, like hymns to tho Great Spirit of tho waters, ascended over Nownavonj and down- from Grangemouth, lightly booming o’er tho tide, floated tho tall bark. Tho world seemed stooped in hopplness. But thoro waa ono—a wandering one i an out cast—wretched and despairing, amidst all Its loveliness j her bosom was dark, no ray could penetrate Its depthsi tho sun shone not for her, nor did naturo smile around but to Inflict amore exquisite pang on the unfortunate. Her steps wore broken and hurried. She now approached the water’s edge, and then receded. No human creature was near to disturb her purpose—all was quietness and privacy { but thoro was an eye from above that watched all. Jessie Montuith— how mournfttl sounds that name at such a crisis. But Jessie set herself down, and removing a ahawl and bonnet from her person, and talcing a string of pornls from her innrble-suomlng neck, and a gold ring which she Hissed eagerly, from her taper finger, she cast up her streaming eyes, meekly Imploring forgiveness of heaven on him, the cause of her shame and death. Scarce of fering a prayer for herself, she breathed forth the names of her disconsolate parents, and, ore tho oyo could folloWhor, she disappeared In tho puru stream. Tho sun shone on, tho green of tho earth stirred not a leaf} tho bull did not toll} nor did a sigh escape tho lip of ono human be ing, and yet tho spirit of tho loveliest of women passed (may wo not hope ?) to Heaven, AT 82,00 PEE ANNUM. A RICE MAW IS SPITE OF HIMSELF. The following amusing story was first pub lished some years ago, and was, at the time, de clared to be a perfectly authentic anecdote of : an old New York merchant: In old times it was the custom of. the mer chants of the city of New York to keep their accounts in pounds,shillings and pence curren cy. About fifty” years -ago a frugal, induatri .ous Scotch merchant, well known to the then small mercantile community of the city, had, by dint of fortunate wmmercial adventure and ccon -1 omy, been enabled to save something like four thousand’ pounds; a considcrablesumof raon ey at that period, and one which secured to its Fosscssor a dcgrec-of. enviable independence.— Us place of business and residence were, as was customcry, at that time, under the same roof, lie had.a clerk in his employment whose reputation ns anaccountant inspimltheutmost confidcnceof his master, whose frugal habits ho emulated with the true spirit and feeling of a genuine Caledonian. It was usual for the ac countant to make an annual balance sheet, for the inspection of his master, in order that he might see what had been the profits of his busi ness for the past year. On this occasion the balance sheet sliowed to the credit of the busi ness six thousand pounds, which somewhat as tonished the incredulous merchant. •It canna be, ’■ said he; ‘ye had better count up agen. I dinna think I ha* had sac profita ble a beesness as this represents.’ The clerk, with his usual patience, re-exam ined the statement, and declared that it was ‘a’ right,” and that he was willing to wager his salary upon its correctness. Tho somewhat puzzled merchant scratched his head with sur prise, and commenced adding up both sides of the account for himself. It proved right. •I did na’ think,’ said he, ‘that I was worth over four thousand pounds, but ye ha’ made me a much richer man. Wed, wed, T may ha’ been mair successful than I iho’, and I'll na’ qnorcl wi’roysd’ for being worth sis thousand instead.’ At early candle'light the store was regularly closed by the faithful accountant; and as soon as he had gone, the sorely-pirplcxedand incred ulous merchant commenced the painful task of going over nod examining all the accounts for himself. Night after night did he labor in his solitary counting-house alone, to look, for the error; but every examination continued the corrcctncssof the clerk, until the old Scotchman began to believe it possible that he v?a® really worth ‘sax thousand pounds.’ Stimulated by this addition to hirf wealth, he soon felt a desire to improve the condition of his household and with that view ho made purchase of new furniture, carpets, and other; elegancies consistent with the position of a man possessing Iho large fortune of sis thousand pounds. Painters and carpenters wero set to work to tear down and build up; and in a , short time the gloomy-look ing residence in Stone 1 street was renovated to such a degree as to 01l l tract the curiosity and envy of all his neighbors. 1 The doubts of tho old man would still, how* ever, obtrodc themselves upon his mind ; and ho determined once more to make a thorough examination of his accounts. On ft dark and stormy night he commenced his labors, with tho patient investigating spirit of a man determined'to probc.thcjrmtter to tho very bottom. It past c thtf'hour of mid- j night*-jet he hod not been nbJo’to detecta sin gle cmor> but stilV ho on., His heart 'beat-high with hope, for.ho had nearly, reached tho end of his iabor. A quick suspiejorrsoized his mind as to ono item In the account. Eureka ! lie had found it. With tho frenzy of a mad* man ho drew his broad-brimmed white hat over his eyes, and rushed into tho street. Tho rain and storm were nothing to him. Ho hurried to tho residence of his cleric, in Wall street: reached the door, and seized tho handle of the Inigo knocker, with which he rapped until the neighborhood was roused with the ‘lould alarm.’ The unfortunate clerk poked his night-cap out of an upper window, and demanded : ‘Who’s there ?’ ■lt’s me, you scoundrel!’ said tho frenzied merchant; 'ye've added the year of our’Laird among the pound*! * Such was the fact. Tho addition of the ycarof our Lord among the items had swelled the fortnroaof the merchant some two thousand pounds beyond the amount.’ How Neon's Not For OH ? It Is hard somootlmcs to gel a direct anwer from an Irish witness. Ho will fence with a question in so ninny ways, and ao akilArily, as sometimes to bathe the moat shrewd lawyer. Recently a Corkonian wna testifying to an as sault, and after relating tho circumstances, was asked by the prosecuting attorney t “Where were you nt the time I” “Sure, I was hard by.” “What is hard by.” “Well, your honor, I was pretty near.” “Wluit do you consider pretty near?” “Tin yourself should know \ it’s not far off, I mane,” “Answer tho question directly, sir. How many yards were you off?” “Sure, and how can I answer ye, when I did n’t measure It ?” (A laugh) The court, speaking sternly : “No trifling, sir,” “It’s your honor has hit It,” said Pat. “It was just a trifle 1 was olfi devil a bit more!” “Sit down, sir!” said tho disgusted attor ney, and Pat did sit down, with a knowing leer at tho court and his attendant friends, causing another general laugh and cry of“ordor 1 order I” from tho marshal who In vain endeavored fo pre serve his own gravity while commanding that of others. An Impobtant Mistake.— Tho following sto ry was recently told ub by n clerical friend, which struck us ot tho time as being “100 good to bo lost.” A reverend brother In a “down cost” state was brought up In an ecclesiastical council to answer some grave charges of Immoral and un dulation practice. Ho assumed an air of In dignation ond “injured Innocence” at tho alle gation, and wont personally to his friends In tho parish, inviting them to corao to tho trial ond sco bow virtuo could triumph over malignant persecution. The day of trial atlenglh came. Tho church was crowded, and the examination of witnesses began. As the case advanced, foot after fact of tho most damning character was brought out I In the testimony i and when tho whole evidence I was In, tho dolcndant arose and said t “I confess that tho character of the testimony adduced on tho trial, as it has advanced, has somewhat stiggorod mo In tho belief of my in nocence, and now that it Is summed up, I havo come to tho conclusion that I have bccninulaken. And on tho whole, I think you will he doing simple justice by turning me out of tho church —and you can do It as soon as you please.” . Harp Cask A servant girl having brought Parks, tho murderer, in Arkon, Ohio, bis sup per, one evening, ho took exception to some portion of it, ami told her if she did not bring lum better food the next time, she should not have a free ticket to see him hanged I A BBAormn- Tuquour.—Sir T. Browne says that “Sloop Is Death’s younger-hrowor.JJJJJ «» like him, * that I dare not trust him without my prayers,” ■ -Satin Well ipplfeA ’-Vf ; A Tho Buffalo DemodrUcy give£ a count of a Silver Currycomb prcsectedJosWia** Backatrap by, tho, passengers conyeyfeA omnibus from the Southpra Michigan-.SteMnor - to (lie Plantaganefc ; Hotel. The following is o' . . sketch of tho happy speech of Mr. Firnlo oujtho. j occasion: . • ’ -/ Mr. Buckstrop was seated on tho oyfflr of a bluo velvet lonngo in tho Baaiq’ft and held hie hat between hla legs In a very inoa cs t manner. His efforts at hiding bis whip bor-. hind his ankleswero Ingenious and pleasing. . ,y - The passengers arose and stood In a half clr** clo before him. - ' •- >' . “Mr. WilHam Back*trapj’’- i - ,■ • “That’s the ticket, sir,” said Mr. Backatrap, • . intelligently closing one of his eyes.. ; s ’ “Mr. William Backet rap,’’resumed Mr. Phnlo “why are wo boro 7” *. If there arose in Mr. Backstrap’s tolnd a do-_ siro to answer, “bjftmse wo aln’l /Aar,” soon checked by the orator’s coDtlniilpg-~- r'_ “Wo are hero to honor merit.;- why, Mr.- Backstrap, do wo honor merit? Because ft W . better to bo landed safely, than to be wrecked upon tho voyage. Perils ol lamp-posts, and of opposing hubs, Bad pavements, and the -traitor-, ous devices of cbmpetition'ontlrclo tho passenger, and Uio ark of nls hopes., Youevor ded these, William Backatrap,, with - skill and courage. . Ton balflda au.lnsldlons at tempt of an unprinciplod'solicltor to decoy ua. to tho Universal Domlnlqn,.an inferlorhotol.— You were mighty inlheusbb! thatcoercivo. dialect, which, though elsewhere deemed profthO swearing, tlie exigencies of trade andtravel estabiislicd upon the docks oja ah element of or- 1 der and an aid to JiisHtd. 'VVby,'Willlaia Back strap, do wo speak of order, and make mention of Justice? Because they bcanflAilly Gerald tho brilliant triumph of Art; Which I cateftdly cherish In my back coat pocket, and which, Wnu; Backstrap, I now produce.”, Tho currycomb.,was hero taken' out, and Mr-' Backstrap, in tho most affecting manner, Itnmo-. dlately hid tho better, part of his countenance behind a red pocket handkerchief, spiritedly or namented with tho picture of-a trotting, match--' Notwithstanding his emotion, however, ho was, enabled to keep his right eye uncovered, which to givo respectful attention to the pro ceedings. ’ ' . “Accept, William Backatrafe, ibis silver cur rycomb as a slight testimonial of onr respect ■ nnd gratitude for tho devotion, courage and skill displayed by yon on tho last trip of your omul-' bus from tho Southern Michigan to tho Planta-- • panel House.” Mr. Bnclcstmp, completely. overcome, by lufl -A, feelings, took tho currycomb and stuffed. It Into ~ his hat, and, with a graceful backward motion, o< his right log and a short bow» he gathered up .• his whip and lett tho room. -In the hall no re- . • lioved his feelings by drawing his breath deeply, and then took out tho Currycomb and regarded'. it for a while with looks of affection and curl-, • osity. * ' . NO.. 4. “jrthls ’ere,” said Mr. Backstop,.''ain't np f 10 spmit (at the pawnbroker’s) in less uian 2,40 hope I’m spavined.” • „ ' April Fools* Onr friend of Iho Albany Register tattles hi® oy es la hla head as he walks - tho .strebts oi that quiet village, and narrates .many-curious and.’ amusing incidents. Sometimes wo suspect hlm of great inventive faculties i but the following story of an April joke Is as good as any we bavo_ seen: ’ “Speaking of the boginnlug’of April, will any body tell us where the custom come from which makes everybody try to fool everybody on tho first day of that capricious month ? : TVo saw a funny thing on the first day of April down in Green street. Did anybody over seo anybody pass'by an old bat on tho side-walk without giv ing it a kick 7 TTo do not belipvo such a thing '•ever happened. VTcll, a wag seized upon this characteristic ont of which to make a little amusement on ‘‘all fool’s day.” So ho procured a boulder, weigh ing some twenty pounds or inOro, and laying it upon tho side walk, placed over it on anclont weather-beaten hot. The first person who pass ed that way was a jolly, rollicking young man, who went whistling “Jordan Is a, hard road to' travel and as ho camo opposite tho hat placed so temptingly in his way, ho gave it a rohslbg . kick, expecting, of course, to seo it go sklVlng Into the middle of the street. Butit dldn’tmovo, and (lie kicker picked up his too in both hands, i and hopped about,'and became etuphatlc in hla language, in n manner that made tho perpetrator of jokododgo around tho corner. Inamoment afterwards, a gentleman camo that- way with a cricket, club on his shoulder. Which bo hi ought down with n swoop against .tho bat, expecting to seo jt tako a hoist over tho ad | jneent cosnir. But it didn’t, while tho cricket club, ns It rang against the atone, flew half-way across.ifio sfrcct; and tho striker fbll to dancing about, blowing bis fingers as if they wero cold, and using a good many words not found In any religious work of tho day. "Wo staid long enough to seo a dozen or more assaults perpetrated up. on tfiat old hat that concealed tbo boulder, and every tlmo tho attacking party got tho worst of tho bargain. Rumraous Disorders. —« There Is d great difference between some folks,” said Mrs. Par tington, sagaciously, laying down tho romarkfoa on tho cover of her snuff box, and looking oat of tho window at the windmill whirling upon fhd shed, that Iko had placed there a few days be fore at tho expense of one of the old lady’s cur tain sticks and a bran new knitting needle, ••about takingniptarous disorders,because some people are much more acceptable than others. 1 1 Is jest so with other things. .Some folks can’t go where thcro is any titus fever without taking it i somo can. Now I can go anywhere without being Übel, because my regularity of living is an anecdote of disease, and 1 lived onco ft quarter of a sentry contagious to a salt marsh and never took tho rheumatiz, though' Mrs? Joems, that didn’t Uvo nigh as near, used to have ft ronmntlo affection every time tho wind was cast.”. Now (ho garrulous old danio did run on to bo sure, alt regardless of tho fact that Iko was very “accept able” to take things, and was at that very mo ment trying tho experiment performed by tho late Cttpt. C. Columbus, of Genoa, of setting an egg on end $ hut with ill success, for ho moment thereafter, with confusion on his faco and the yolk of o# egg on his jacket alcove, and tho rebuke of Mrs. Partington riuginglnhls car. — Post. ; A Sessidle Detection.— A big, black, buck negro was charged before tho Recorder of New Orleans, by ono of the genius dandy/wltb atcal- Ing—or rather being caught In tho veryact oC stealing—his boots out of bis bedroom; at an early hour in tho morning. ‘ A little limb of tho law— ono of tho sharp practice class—who defended the negro, was rather querulous In the cross-examination of tho complainant. “Now, sir,” ho said, “you have (old bis Hon or that you wore fn bed when tho negro entered the room. Did you see him at the time 7” “No.” . “Did you hoar him 7” “No.” 1 , “Well, then, did you feel him 7” “No.” . . «How, then, com© you to know that ho was stealing your boots?” “Why, I smelt him*, opened.my eyes, and found that ho was—as one of our poets very beautifully expresses It—stealing and giving odor.” Editor's Live. —A Western Editor, who has not discovered that people who will pay for a newspaper at all, prefer to road their own copy rather than one still belonging to tbo publisher, thus.appoaU totho sympathies of his delinquent 1 customers \ “We cannot help thinking tlow touch easier an editor’s life might ho made If his generous patrons could only hoar his “bettor half” scra ping tho • bottom of ft flout barrel / A man that can write editorials with such maslo sounding In his jars, can eoslly walk tho telegraph jvlrqs, and turn somorsols In - the branches of a thorn bush.” Gross Octbaqk.— Bunsbr says, the reason why the ladies wear such small bonnets, is a just idea the ladies have of-making nature and ark correspond; having nothing inside of their heads, they nut ns near to nothing or possible on the outside. Tho brute. 1 [C7* A great city is not a place to bo born in, neither Is it a proper place,to live in, and above all, it is a most unsuitable place to die and be buried in. Tho country where tho clear water flows, and pure air of heaven may be breathed, is just the place for all these things. ,
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