AMERICAN YOLUETEER.
roDLiaitHD Evilnr TnrjlispAT morning'
By. Jolm B» Brattou.
TE UM Si
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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. ,