AMERICAN: VOLUNTEER. PUBIisBEP EVBBT TEUBSDAT HORNING . . . ;,By Jolm B. Drattoßi -i ; TERMS: - . ‘ . StißacoxtTiON»— One Dollar and Fifty Cents, ■ tald In advance; Two Dollars if paid within, tho yoax; and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, If not Uftld within the year. These terms will be rigid ly adhered to In every Instance. No subscription discontinued until all arrearages are paid unless • it thooption of the Editor. Advertisements —Accompanied by the Cash, find not exceeding one square, will bo inserted thfee times for oho Dollar, and twenty-flvo cents for each additional insertion. Those of a greater length in proportion. JoQ-FjuhTiNO—Such as Hand Bills, Posting Blllsj Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c., &c., exe cuted with accuracy and at the shortest notice. partied “TAKE HE HOME TO BIB.” This land Is very bright, mother, The flowers are very fair, There Is magic In the orange groves • ■ -And fragrance In the air ; But take me to my good old home Where, tho brook goes bubbling by, Lot us go home again mother— Oh! take me homo to die. Letmy Cither's hand but rest mother — . In blessing on my head, Letroy brothers and my sisters dear ..-But throng around my bod j Oil, lot mo feel thatloved ones near Receive my parting breath, When I bid you all good night, mother And sleep tho sleep of death! Bear mother I am weeping . I cannot stop the tears, They’re swelling at tbo thought of homo, And of my early years. But I am getting faint, rootherp-j .. Oh take me to your breast, [ And let me feel your lip, mother, • • Again my forehead press. There’s dimness on ray sight, mother, I cannot get my breath; b it your sobs I boar, mother; Oh, toll me—is this death? •You’ll toll my father how I yearned Once more to see him near j Ton’ll kiss roy brothers each for mo; They will forgot, I fear. You’ll tell my sisters, mother dear, i I have gone up on high, And if they are good children here. They will see mo when they die ; ( I feel I’m going now mother — One kiss o’ro life is riven ; And now, farewell, my own mother. Until wo meet in heaven. THE BBIDAL AND TEE BUBIAL, BT JAMES MONTQOMEBT. Blessed is the bride whom the bub shines on; Blessed is the corpse which the ruin rains on. - I saw tbo young and beautiful, I saw the rich and gay, la the first blush of womanhood. Upon thy wedding day; The church-bolls rang, And the little children sang— “ Flowers, flowers, kiss hei feet; Sweet to the sweet! ■The winter is past, the rains are gone, Blessed Is the brldo whom the sun shines on.” I saw the poor and desolate, I saw thoo fade away, In broken-hearted widowhood. Before thy locks wore grey; The death-bell rang, And the little children sang— “Lillies dress her winding shoct, Sweet to the sweet 1 The summer’s past, the sun shines gone ; Blessed is the corpse which tho rain rains on.” Biflttllnmtiui THE JONES FAMILYj oa AN ESTIMATE OF lIOKBT. It is sheer nonsense to contend that money docs nothing towards raising a man's respecta bility in the world. Enough of this theory was Verified in the Jones family. Jacob Jones was a poor, thriftless roan, with a largo fomily, who were put to great straits to get along decently, and everybody knew it; yet nobody knew any thing agkinst them but their poverty. He was % sensible man, well versed in politics, and could make as handsome a speech os Squire Driver, in any town meeting m Freehold; but then it was only ‘Jake Jones, the man who wasn’t worth a cent in the world.’ He might have held im portant offices in the militia, or been one of the Selectmen, but ho was so poor, ho was entirely overlooked. Besides, this poverty was a great disadvantgo to the family. The girls were always held be low par, in consequence of their being brought up in an obscure way; and Mrs. Jones, their mother, never attained to anv office in the sew ing circle, or any charitable fair, simply be cause she could not mingle with the aristocracy. The Jones girls never had a fair position m society, or they would have appeared as well os many others. They were rather marked as ‘decided gawky girls,’ with whom mothers evi dently preferred their daughters should have but little intercourse, and they more especially fear ed lest their sons should bo attracted by their faces, for they were pretty, notwithstanding their poverty; and Mrs. Driver herself declared ‘if they only bad money, they would appear as well as any ladies in the townbut as it was, the were only known os 'Jake Jonc’s daughters who lived in the small red house under the hill. But Mrs. Jones was descended from an En glish slock. Sho used to soy if she only had money to travel, she had no doubt but sho could find out her pedigree; but this all went for 'smart talk,* until one day the public Journal announced that ‘the heirs of Lucrctia Sclden, if living) might hear of something to their advan tage oy calling at street No. o.’ Mrs. Jones was a Sdden, and her mother’s name was Lucrctia—if so, a property of two hundred thousand dollars was ncr duo from a bachelor undo os a bequest to the heir of his sister, and Mrs. Jones was her only child. It was hers, without mistake. Mrs. Smith said *sho always thought that there was something above the commonality in Mrs. Jones; for her part she always bad been social with her, and treated her lady-Uko.’ ‘ ‘But, mother,’said Sophia, .’you did worn fno Against associating with her daughters.— You know you said they were awkward, un couth girls/ 'But, ray dear, it is not so-—they arc in reali ty, very genteel, accomplished young ladies, and I have no objection at all to your visiting them, especially os such a good fortune has hap pened to them.’ Jacob Jones soon set up a princely stylo of jiving. Ho built an elegant house, kept his Carriage, hired servants, received a commission from the Governor ns Justice of the Peace; the jKUttycar ho was first Selectman of the town ; and Dr. Bond eloquently urged his claims as Representative to our General Court, affirming, with great emphasis, thot ho *kntw no man in town better calculated to present its interests than Squire Jones.’ • This was the same man who bolted out of mooting, rather than hear 'old Jake Jones talk,' a little more than a year ago. And now tho society of the Misses Jones was courted! ‘Thomas, Biohard,Henry,’ thomoth cr usecd to say, *if you aro going to a coiltcrt or to a lecture, why don’t you invito Carry or Sophia Jones to go with you 1 They aro sweet pretty girls, and you would do well if you could push your way there. Tho squire, they say, is worth full two hundred thousand dollars, and that dividend makes every child indepen dent.’ They were no longer the slab-sided grccnles, BY JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL 41. but the tall, graceful, handsome girla, who were dressed beautifully and conversed so sensibly. Did’nt the Joneses laugh behind the door as they contrasted the past with the present! Then there was Marajah Jones, who used to £lay the big fiddle in the church, known only in those days’as ‘Cage, the fiddlerbut since, ho had procured a handsome house organ, and had contributed a largo sum for one in the church,ho assumed the cognomen of jMr. Jones, our ex quisite performer and organist—a son of Squire Jones, the gentleman who received such a largo property from England,’ The girls wercready to sit in tho choir now without crying—the or ganist was a hoble-heartcd fellow, and wasn’t , it a treat to borrow his quizzing glass to look at tho strangers who happened to enter church ? By-and*by there was a new event talked a bout, for tho affairs of the Joneses were now tho all engrossing topic. Sophia was thought to bo engaged to Mr. Tymphony, tho village store keeper. Nobody was certain of the fact, yet every one knew it would come out an engage ment, and it was thought his ‘variety store* was enlarged with that view of tho Squire’s pnrse, when suddenly, Mr. Binkcr, from tho South, a wealthy cotton planter, carried her away at ten dgy’s notice, where slaves come at her back ofnd call to do as she bids.. Cloyes, the barber, lives rent free in the small red house they occupied in the days of their poverty. Tho Squire remembers he used to shave him for nothing when his pockets were empty, and ho follows the golden rule. **lrs. Jones has made several donations to her former milliner, and a poor woman who used to help her, spring and fall, in heftsewing; and not one of the family "have assumed a purse-proud air since they came in possession of their property, consequently they arc deservedly respected; and tins shows plainly, that they have common sense as a regulating medium since they cast no re flections upon the former inattentions of people in their days of poverty, which is an infallible method to make them feel that although money changed (hem in the estimate of others, tho gen uine merits in themselves remain unchanged.— Yet, all tho while, they aro as conscious as oth ers that money alone gave them their present position in society. Gcoius and Criticism. How mucb easier it ie to criticise, than to ex ecute I Tho one is the broad road on which thousands walk together; tho other is the narrow path with hero and there a traveller. The clear est proof that criticism is an easy part, is the as tounding number of critics who encounter every production that appears. The beat evidence of tho infinitely greater difficulty In acting tho ge nius than the critic, is the ‘few and far between’ specimens of tho former class to be met with. Criticism is, therefore, cheap, and low, and worthless. '“What belongs to every body, and possesses no difficulty of attainment, no ond to its multiplication, is valuless as well In tbo lit erary as in tho commercial market. It must In deed bo a high order—a very high order of crit icism, for a man to bo proud of; it must bo a rare soundness of judgnfaot, liberality of senti ment, wholesome appreciation ,of merits and im partial condemnation of defects. But when a critic is found, who is what a critic k should bo, and superior to tho small fry that aro named tho same name, ho Is more entitled to be classified with men of genius than with tlio low craft, who can judge but daro not perform. It is truo that tho number of critics Is a fact easily explained, ond that any ono, possessing tho least Ingredient of philosophy, ihny readily excuse. It requires no cultivation of Intellect to be a very good critlo, or at least as good a ono ns tho majority. Byron soys A man must servo his time at every trade, Save censure critics all are ready made. And it is tho remark of as learned a man as Cicero, that tho multitude, who have no cultiva tion of taste, no training of lino arts, except what nature has given them, can appreciate as highly as tho most select audience of savans, the lorco of reasoning and tho beauties of style. Iludo and. unlettercd men respond with a keen relish to all tho (lights of oratory, and can detect tho flaw In an argument without knowing tho meaning of tho word “fallacy.” Tho number oJ critics, therefore, is a necessary fact—an evil in one sense, a great good in the other. Timidity is often a quality of tho man of genius, and ho shrinks from an encounter single handed with a host of detractors. Critics are numberless, and they are all uncharitable. Cen sure is their art, defects their food, and detrac tion the pride of their profession. Tho young author must bo a brpvo man to bid defiance to their multitudes, and must bo patient and reso lute not to mind tho amartlngs of tho rod they lay upon his back. But who can deny that tho generality of critical powers is tho true cause of 1 tho paucity of imposters 1 Tho shallow prolon -1 der soon has hia light extinguished by a public ■ verdict of condemnation, and tbo chaff* being ■ sifted (Vom tho wheat by tho world acting In ■ spontaneous union, posterity receives only the • gold that has been refined. Hero wo have mixed our metaphors, and por haps some awful critic, who has seen the motto that ‘the Judge Is condemned, when tho guilty arc absolved,* will feel it his duty to censure our stylo and inform us of our defbets. Wo dislike far more than wo con express, petty and unreas-' enable criticism. Wo admit that the tribe, ol whom wo have been discoursing, are necessary as scavengers 5 but wo can never consent that they como upou our Individual promises, though for the kind purpose of removing the filth and rubbish about us It is disagreeable to bo crit- icised, albeit it bo useful-, and wo prefer a pre sent respite from annoying censors, to tho utility they may Incidentally bring In their train— W turnover our productions aro lo bo ‘wacked In to' by gentlemen, whoso business It is to detract, lot them ask themselves If they ate doing unto ollicrs as they would that others should do unto them 1 and after answering this question, let them further examine themselves rlgorouslv as to these, whether after all its defects tho piece has not virtues—whether the sun itself has not its dark epQts—and lastly, whether they them selves could Imvo done half as well. —Penny Post. p^T*‘Gracious goodness!’ said Mrs. Parting ton, on tho night ocforothofourth.assho thrust her head out of tho window to hear a hand of calathumpians thot were passing her dwelling. There was no sleep to her eyes nor slumber to her eyelids that night. T wonder if they think they aro making music with what they are doing 5 if they do it’s more than I do, for I can’t make Out the least hit of a tune of it at all. It must bo uproar music, I think, and nobody ever thinks oi understanding that. Well, there they go, and mayjicaco go with ’em, though they have destroyed mine. 1 She sank into & seat by the window and fonnedherself energeti cally, os the noise of tho band was succeeded by thatof guns, pistols, crackers, torpedoes, squibs, serpents, rockets, yells, songs, and others 100 numerous to particularize, and was thankful that Isaac lay snug in bed, with his armament all about him, like a warrior taking his rest.— Tho closing of tho door a few moments .before had not aroused her. and she could not detect in the sound of pistol and cannon crackers what hand fired the fuse, nor in tho din which unsealed her eyes that a loved object was engag ed in promoting it. Yet tho daylight shall find llco crflokerlcsa, and tho pouch of Mrs. P. shall bo importuned for funds wherewith to develop cmbriolio patriotism. jC/* The statesman who rose to a point ol order, came down on tho speaker's hat. “OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE RK BEFORE SHOULD BEGIN AT nOJIE, ‘This Ifl pleasant,' exclaimed a young husband taking bis scat cosily in tlie couching chair as tho things were removed. The lire glowing in the grate, revealed a pretty, neatly furnished sitting room, with all tho appliances of comfort. The fatiguing business of tho day'was over, and ho sat enjoying what he had all day been anticipating, tho delights of his own fireside.— His pretty wife Esther took hex own work and sat down by tho table. •It is pleasant to have a borne of one’s own,’ ho again Ssid, taking a satisfactory survey of his little quarters. Tho cold rain beat against the windows, and ho tho’t ho felt really grateful for his present comforts. ‘Now if wo only had a piano,’ exclaimed tho wife; 'Give me the music of your own sweet voice before all tho pianos in creation,’ ho declared complimentary, besides feeling a secret distip £ ointment that bis wife’s thankfulness did not oppilychimo with his own. ‘Well, but wo want one for onr friends,* said Esther. ‘Let our friends come to see ua, and not harp on a piano,’ exclaihiod the husband. ‘But, George, everybody has a piano, now-o days, we won’t go anywhere without seeing a piano,’ persisted tho wife. ‘And yet I don’t know what wo want one for —you will have no time to play on one, and I don’t wan’t to hear it.’ ‘Why, they -are so fashionable—l think our room looks nearly naked without one.’ *1 think it looks just right.’ »I think it looks very naked—wo want a piano shockingly,’ said Esther emphatically. The husband rocked violently. «Tho lamp smokes, roy dear,’ said he after a long pause. ‘When aro you going to got an astral lamp 7 I havo told you a dozen times how much wo needed one,’ said Esther pettishly. ‘Those aro very pretty lamps—lncver can see by an astral lamp,’ said her husband. ‘Those lamps arc tho prettiest of tho kind I ever saw— they wore bought in Boston. ‘But, George, I do not think our room is com plete without an astral lamp,’ said Esther sharp ly. ‘Why tho Morgana and tho Millers, and many others I might mention, all havo them; I am sure wo ought too. *Wo ought to,lf wo tako pattern by other peo ple’s expenses, and I don’t soo any reason in that.* Tho husband moved uneasily in his chair.- <Wo want to livo as well as others do,* said Esther, ‘Wo want to live within our means, Esther,’ exclaimed George. ‘I aux sure wo can afford it, as well oa tho Mor gans and Millers and Thorns—wo do not wish to appear mean. George’s check crimsoned. ‘Moan ! I am not mean !’ ho cried angrily. ‘Then wo do not wish to appear so,’ said the wife. ‘To complete this room and make it look like other people’s wo want an astral lamp.’ ‘We want—wo want,’ muttered the husband, ‘there is no satisfying woman’s wants, do what you may,’ and ho abruptly left tho room. How many husbands are in a similar dilemma 7 flow many houses and husbands aro rendered uncomfortable with tho constant dissatisfaction of a wife with present comforts and present pro visions) How many bright prospects for busi ness have ended in bankruptcy and ruin, in or dcr‘fo satisfy this secret baokerlhgaftorfashlon ablo necessaries.? ■ Could tbo real cause of many failures .bo knofrn, ft would be .found to result (Vom useless expenses to answer the demands of fashion, and what.will people think t •. ‘My wife has mode' ,my fortune,* sold a gen tleman of great possessions, ‘by her thrift, pru dence and chcorfadaess when I was just begin ning.* i • - ‘And mine has lost my fortune, ’ answered his companion,‘by useless extravagances and re pining when I was doing well.* What a world docs this open to the influence which a wife possesses over tho fixture pospority of her family 1 Lot tho wife know her Influence, and try to use it wisely and well. “1 StmjAve.” Lord Byron once remarked, « Glory consists of being shot in battle, and having one’s name reported wrong in tho dead end wounded list.” Wo were never moto strongly reminded of tho truth of this assertion, and how little the great aro remembered after their death, that on hear, ing a few days since, tho following anecdote of an Eastern farmer, flying to repeat the last words of tho “Godlike Webster,” “I still Uvol” A gentleman remarked, “Life is very uncertain.” “Ah, yes,” replied the farmer, “that’s true, every word of It, and, by-tho-way, Captain, that makes mo think of what one of your big Mas sachusetts men said when ho died a spall ago.” Who was it?” Inquired tho Captain. “Well, I don't Just call his namo to mind now, but at any rate ho was a big polltltloner and lived neat Boston, somewhere. My newspaper sold when ho died, tho Boston people put his Imago in their windows, and had a funeral for a whole day." “Perhaps It was Webster,” suggested (ho Captain. “Tos, that’s the name I Webster. General Webster I Strange I couldn’t think on’t aforo 1 Ho rlz In the bod, and says ho, “I ain't dead yet 1”-—Literary Jifmeum. A Diode) Candidate. Tho following description of a Mississippi candidate, taken from a Mississippi newspaper, will answer as a « model” candidate for almost any quarter where popular suffrage prevails 1 “ Judge , tho candidate for , has no quality which distinguishes him from tho groat herd of mankind, except a peculiar and fascina ting manner of extending to you his flvo digits, and of saying ‘how are youl* and trolling ahaby on his kneo, and grinning at tho mother, and winking at tho rosin heeled gals, as they aro called. Ho la not tho first man, by a long shot, who has Introduced hlmsolf to tho public nottco by the flexibility of his spinal column, and tho graceful bond of his doxtot elbow. Ho has a sort of * Homo, sweet homo’ manner of saying ‘ Good morning, J6hn,* which Is said to make tho ‘bov's* bug up to him, and of saying, ‘How dy’e do, sonny; that’s a nlco llltlo Miss,* which goes * plump to tho hearts ol tho well pleased ma*s. And then ho Is said to bo tho very Na poleon of tho ‘bran-dance,* —has such an every day, good natured way of squeezing tho fingers of his partner, who ‘curchles* and blushes, and when sho sits down by hor lover, says, *Whot a nlco man Judge W Is| you ought to voto for him, Bill.’ '* Tiib Fonou op Habit.— lt is curious to ob serve how one’s habits ot thought constantly break outand exhibit themselves' in whatever ho docs or sayd. In'one of our colleges, it was customary for tho professors to take turns in making the chapel prayers. Onco upon an occasion, this duty fell upon tho learned pro fessor of chemistry, and tno students were as- 1 tonished to hear him Introduce on illustration: “Thouknowcst.O Lord, that for tippling light ning. silver is better than platinum, so is tho mind touched by tliy grace, made most ready to receive tho principles of science!” On an other occasion, the mathematical professor ask ed‘‘Divine goodness to enable us to know its length, its breadth, its depth, and Us superficial Contents ?” _____ (K7"ln the ■ education of their children, tho Anglo-Saxons only sought to render them dauntless and apt for the two most important occupations of their future lives—war and tho chose. It was a usual trial of a child’s oourago to place him on tho sloping roof of a building, ana If without screaming or tertor he held fut, ho was styled ‘a stout hero’ or a ‘bravo boy. CARLISLE, PA,, THURSDAY, AUGUST 3, 1854, JFFEOTllfB.''': ’Twas on the ’Neath the alldnlhus trS'e^ That she leaned against my waistcoat, And whispered—“Alarry r iho 1” O, that agonizing moment,•- I never, never shall forget j Her lips with nectar, laden, I think I taste them yet. v. Just as this little Eden ‘ ' Approached reality, ■ A grutf voice uttered sternly— “ What is all this I see?” ‘ And then I felt a pegged Applied with might and man } I fell uporrtho sidewalk, -, r \ And off went Mary Jane! • ■ VOCJitPISIEIUCA. ; We undoubtedly are a peculiar -“people. Our statesmen, poets and politicians are peculiar— ‘the bone and sinew of the land* ate peculiar— our children are peculiar, but most peculiar is very Young America,* • Wo allude not to Young America, as seen in legislative ban's, or taking part in political assemblages, bof to a still younger boy, who, having doffed his swaddling clothes, has just donned cassimereptmts, a dross coat, standing collar and high heeled boots.— Look at the mannikin! He is perhaps between fourteen and seventeen years of ago, Hebasno doubt of his manhood?—not he. He can swear like a trooper —play cards like a ghmblcr, and chew as much tobacco and drink aS much rum as most children of superior growth I Perhaps he aspires to statesmanship. How : learnedly ho talks of governmental affairs, and | how acutely bo criticises the productions of our 1 public men. Ho gravely tells ua that ‘Aleck Hamilton and Tom Jefferson were greatly over rated,’and that‘Dan Webster Hen. Clay and Jack Calhoon, were men of some ability, but entirely too slow for this progressive age. r ‘Ned Everett,’ he grants, ‘knows something of Latin and Greek, but is without enlarged and liberal views, and should devote himself jo teaching , ; school and preaching 10 the Dnitariipu.’ Byrant, Longfellow and Hallack qre thought by Young America to bo‘rather clover poets,’ while Cooper, Irving, and Ik' Marvd‘write tol erably well, all things considered.'- * At fifteen years of age, Young America falls in love, and, of course, ‘sighs like a furnace.’ Wo have somewhere met with something like tjio following: ‘I say, Bob, Lucy Fairfield is a monstrous fine girl ,* wonder she doift marry!' ‘Yes, she’s rather handsome, but faffing very fust; you should have seen her three years ago, when she was about twelve years old; then she was a beauty. Lucy loves me, but I’m en gaged ; thenher father hasn’t the Consumption, and may enjoy his wealth for twenty years.— Poor girl, 1 pity her!’ •My child,* said good Israel Muggins to his interesting son, ‘I think of associatingyon with me in business; what shall be the style-of the firm?’ ‘Why, what should it be but.;lsrael Wiggins, Jr., & Father ?’ replied bia promising boy. Another illustration, and we close. Little Dick, aged fourteen, cigar in mouth, asks his grandfather—a gcntlemGi> who htus seen eighty summers—if ho will have ‘a,weed.’ .rA.tvhat 1’ replied tho 'tud'fbgy. ‘AScml; gnujapa, that ! is, a cigar.’ - ‘No, sir, I never smoked a cigar in all my life.' ‘Well,,grandpa, atyourage, • I bdicvel would’nt advise you to begin.’. So much* for Young America. Ho is a boy of rare parts. At twelve ho knows more than his parents; at fourteen he is a poet, politician and critic, as well as master of all tho vices of tho day; and at sixteecn ho grows tired of youth ful amusements, thinks of a rich wife, a resi dence in the country, blooming children, and other pleasures attendant on matrimony. Verily, this is a great country, and we arc a great people. Wo arc either infants at the breast, or by assumption and manner; full grown bipeds, with all the sclf-coniidcncc and importance characteristic of inflated and pre suming men. "Some mere of Them 'ere Brans.” The Yankee Blade is rcspoaiblo for the fol lowing “good un; n A legislative assembly, gathered as it is from all quarters and from every profession must necessarily include all varieties of character, some of the most amusing kind. Several years since, the town of saw flit to elect a sturdy farmer, whom the love of adventure never led out of the precincts of his native country, to the onerous post “of Memberof IhoGeneraipourt.” Arrived in Boston, our friend, being somewhat hungry, and dcsirious of taking something sub stantial “for tho stoiuach’s'snkc,” found his way into one the principal hotels just at tho dinner hour. Ho sat down to dinner, and, be ing requested by tho waiter to select from the bill of faro what dish be chose, expressed a desire for somo baked beans. This was brought him, qnd, from tho gusto with which it was eaten our Representative. The plate was cleared in nn incredibly short space of time, and tho attentive waiter was at his side. ‘Will you have your plate changed ?’ »Yes. ’ The bill of fare was consulted, and tho guest 1 announced his decision— T reckon I’ll have a few more of them ’ere beans'?’ The waiter turned away to conceal a smile but did os lie was ordered. 110 kept an eve on tho new fledged Representative, and by tne time his third plate was dispatched, avos by his sido with tho old question. ' ‘Of course,’ thought ho, “ho’U want some thing also this time.’ • '♦What dish shall I bring you, sir?’ Tho Representative took up the bill _o£ faro, and followed its various items with his .■finger till hocamoto tho end, a process which occu pied some ten minutes. ‘ Ho was apparently puzzled, but in a moment his face lighted up, and he said: ‘I don’t care if I take ft fen’ more beaife.’ They were brought, and wo need not say went the way of their predecessors, ‘Perhaps, sir,’ said tho waiter, as ho took away hia empty plate, ‘you would liko some kind of pudding ? Wo have all kinds.’ ‘I don’t know,* was tho hesitating reply. ‘Have you any more of them 'ere beans ?’ ‘Then I guess you may bring mo a few more to finish up with. I don’t want anypudding * For every day of the season our country Rep resentative patronized his favorite dish. When, at length Ins services were dispensed with, and ho returned to hia constitutes, lie was aaked how he liked stopping in Boston ?* •Boston is a great place,’ ho exclaimed, with enthusiasm; 'Boston is a great place-foe baked beans V 1 * minister had travelled flir to preach to a congregation. After the sermon, ho waited very patiently, expecting some of the brethren to Invito him homo to dinner.. In this ho was disappointed, one and another departed until tho house was almost empty. Summoning resolu tion. however, ho walked up to an elderly look ing man, and gravely said i “Will you go homo with mo to dinner, to-day brother f* “Whore do you live?” “About twenty miles from this place.” “Wo,” said the man, coloring “ but you must go with pie.” “Thank you » I will, cheerfully,” Afro#that time, tho minister was no more troubled about his dinner. iiliileif. BIGHT OR WRONG, ODR COUNTRY.” “Oh dear mo I” sighed little Robert Blake, as ho leaned his bead against tho window and looked out—“l am tired of playing, and tired ofreadlng, and X can’t think of anything else to do.” “ What if you should try working a littlo 7” said his sister Mary, who sat at the other dow, busily sowing. “I dare say thq men would like much to have you rake up tho hay, and —” “Oh, I ain’t going to work In vacation I’m sure. Father told mo that if I didn’t want to, I needn’t do a single thing except nmuso my self, and I don’t mean to.” “Yesj but at tho same time ho told you that you would find yourself very much mistaken if you thought you could bo happy to be Idle? and bo said he should bo surprised if you did not come and ask for something to do before tho vacation was over.” “Well, I don’t cure, Iknovr it is pleaaouter to play than to work, whatever you may say to tho contrary.” “So it is for a little while; hut you see your self how soon you got tired of it.” “Well, I shall got rested soon.” “Yea, to work at haying a little would rest you nicely.” “I toll you I won’t work in vacation, so you needn’t say any more about itand seising his hut, Robert ran outof tho bouse. First ho took his ball and threw It against tho wolla few times, but pretty soon tho ball wont over tho shed, and Robert was “too tired,” as ho said to himself, to go to got it. So ho sat down in tho swing, but he had no one to swing him, and it was too iin ch work to swing himself* so ho took his Mu, and as there was a fine wind, It soon rose to the full length of tho string. But Robert found that it made bis arm acho to hold on to the end of the Btlrng,so ho wound it up. and sat down on the stops to consider what ho should do next. It was a very beautiful summer day—und us 1 Robert looked round he saw tho little brook before his lather’s door glittering in tho sun, ' and U looked so merry and pleasant that ho ; jumped up and ran down towards It to see if ho i could no find something there with which to i amuso himself. Ho sat down for a little while j under the great willow on the bonk of the stream , and watched the little waves so busily dancing , along—and ho wondered why they wore always ( in such a hurry. But the wavelets could not speak to him, and so, oiler looking at tho swift , current a littlo longer, Robert picked up some little twigs, and standing on the bridge,' amused himself by throwing them into tho brook, and seeing how quickly they would come through on tho other side. But he was soon tired of this sport, and resting with both arms on the rail, and crossing his legs, ho leaned listlessly over and gazed at the sinking brook. He was aroused from his dreams by the sound of merry voices coming towards him,' and look ing up, he saw Susan Brown, tho daughter of a neighbor, coming towards tho brook, with a great pitcher upon her head, while hot sister Lizzy ran after, chattering and laughing as if she felt very happy. “Why, what a great pitcher Susy I” said Rob. ert* “is it not very heavy 1” •‘Oh no, 1 don’t mind it when tho weather Is pleasant.” So saying she merrily dipped the pitcher into tho brook, and when it was tilled she again raised It towards her head, hut Rob -1 ertsaid*. , • v .. r» -■ ; h -“you had heifer let mo carry it.” “Well, just as yoa 1 like,-” said Susy, laughing ly. - “And I will bringanothcr pnoihr yon. If you wish,” said Robert. «. - - * “Thank you, I should Uko It very much, for I’ve got to mi the barrel for mother, and 1 1 will get you a pail, and you can. help mb if) , you like 7” * “Yes, I should ndralro it,"saidßobert* With sudden animation and for half an hoUr ho worked steadily, carrying pails • and empty ing them into tho barrel. At tho .end of that time lie felt quite warm and tired, but the barrel waa full, and Susy and Iter mother thanked him very much, and Mrs. Brown gave him an ap ple turnover, which aho had just baked, 'sbicb 1 tasted nicer to Robert than anything lie had ea ten since vacation commenced. After eating this, ho wont homo, and the same afternoon he told Ida father that ho meant to help him a part of every day nnlil school commenced again—“for,” said ho, “I find there Is uo work so Lard as trying to amuse myself.” Uow "Shu" and how “lie” goes to Bed, There Is as much difference between tho man ner in which a man retires to (ho couch, and a woman, os between a Virginia rail-fence and a onc-horso almanac. Mud makes a plain, straight forward ploco of business of It—woman a long, formal, everlasting four mile “exorcise.” Quo of our exchanges thus makes out tho picture.— Will (ho reader try them both “on,” and see how (hoy Uko them : “ Going to bed wo have always considered one of tho most sober, serious and solemn ope rations which a man can bo engaged in during tho whole twenty four hours. With a young lady it a different thing. When bed tirqflnlvcs, she trips up stairs with a can dle in hfPnand, and if sho has had pleasant company during tho evening—with some agree able ideas in bar head, tho candlo on tho toilet, and her luxuriant hair Is speedily emancipated from tho thraldom of combs and pins. If she usually wears ‘water curls,’ or uses tho ‘lrons,* her hair Is brushed carefully from her forehead and the whole mass compactly secured: if not why then her lovely tresses are soon hid in in numerable bits of paper. This task accomplish ed, a night-cap appears, edged, may be, with plain muslin, or may bo with heavy luco, which hides all, save her own sweet countenance. As soon as sho ties the string, probably sho takes a peep in her glass, and half smiles and half blushes ot what sho sees. Tho light is out—her fair dolicalo form gently presses tho couch— and Hko a dear innocent, lovely creature, os sho la, sho falls gently into sloop, with a sweet smilo on her swooror face. Four stories of cream-cakes ( how nice.— How tho dear must fool. Passing Away. —Wo can read these solemn words upon our very nature. Tho ruthlesr hand of time is constantly heaping upon our hv\da tho weight of years, that, like an incubus will continue to press us down, until at lost our fee ble frames will totter and sink into the grave. It is, indeed, but "a step between the cradle and the grave.* .Scarcely have wo passed from the mother where wo were nursed and protected, until wo again must lean upon tho arms of a dutifbl child, and trust to his kindness to sup port our feeble limbs. How soon do wo find our eyes growing old and the world gradually receding, as it wore, into a mist I Our checks become furrowed; our limbs grow weak and palsied { our heads are silvered as if blossoming for the grave. Our feeble frames are racked with pain, ami “nature’s sweet restorer comes not to tho eyes,os if kindly warning ua td watch; tbr wo know not what hour in the night tho messenger may summon us kcnco* Liko the pearly dew-drop before tho sun’s ray—-like the rose of summer before tho autumn blhat—liko tho moon beam on tho dark blue sea, “we arc passing away,” (C7* Tho secret of Dante’s struggle through life, was in tho reckless sarcasm of his answer tf> the Prince of Verona, who asked him how ho could account for the fact that, in the house hold of princes, the court fool was in greater fa vour than the philosopher, ‘Similarity of mind,’ d*td tho fierce genius, •is till .oyer the world the source of friendship. ’ , , The Idle arc llwnyslnlwppy. AT 82,00 PER ANNUM. NO, 8. RAZOR STROP BEDIVIVDS. The reporter of the San Francisco Neics fur nishes that paper with the following report of a speech made by a California auctioneer— Ladies and gentlemen, I now hare the honor of puttingup a line pocket-handkerchief, a yard wide, o yard long, and almost o yard one half cotton, and t'other half cotton too; beautifully printed with stars and stripes on ■ one side, and the stripes and stars on t'other; I it will wipe dust from the eyes so completely as | to be death to demagogues, and 'make politics i as bad a business os printing papers; its dork ! color will enable it to hide dirt, and never need | washing: going at one dollar?—seventy-five i cents ?—fifty cents ?—twenty-five cents j bit? Nobody wants it ?—on! thank you, sir 11 Next, gentfepien, for the ladies won't be per mitted to bid on this article, is a i&l, simon pure, tempered, highly polished, kccn-cdgcd Sheffield razor 5 branspankin’ new; neveropen ed Wore to sun-light, moon-light, siar-ligbt, day-light, or gos light; sharp enough to shave a lawyer, or cut a disagreeable acquaintance, or poor relation; handle of buck-horn, with all the rivets but the two at the ends of pure gold. Who will give two dollars ? one dollar ? half a a dollar 1 Why, you long-bearded, dirly-faccd reprobates, with not room enough on your faces for a Chinese woman to kiss, I'm ottering you a bargain at half a dollar! Well, I will throw in this strop at Haifa dollar ! —razor and strop —a recent patent; two rubs upon it will sharp en the city attorney’; all for four bits ; and a piece of soap—sweeter than roses ; lathers bet ter than a school-master: and strong enough to wash out all the stains from a California poli tician character, all for four bits! —why, you have only to put this soap and razor-strop under your pillow at night, to wake up in the morning clean shaved; won't anybody give two bits, then, for the lot ? 1 knew 1 would sell ’em. Next, ladies and gentlemen, 1 oiler three pair 1 of socks, hose, stockings, or half hose, just as you’re a mind to call them. Kuit by a machine made on purpose out of cotton wool: the mart : that buys these will bo enabled to walk till he ' gets tired ; and —provided his boots are high enough—needn’t nave any corns ; the legs are as long as the bills against the corporation, and os thick as the heads of the members of the Legislature ; who wants 'em at one lialf a dol lar I—thank’co, madam, half a dollar. Next I oiler you apair of boots; made especial ly for San Francisco, with heels long enough to raise a man up to Hcadly grades, and nails to insure against being carried oil’ by a land slide; legs wide enough to carry two revolvers and a bowie-knife and the uppers of the very best horse leather. A man in these boots can move . about as cosy as the State capital; who says twenty dollars 1 All the tax payers ought to buy a pair to kick the councils with; every body ought to have a pair to kick the Legisla ture with—and they will be found of assistance lin kicking the bucket, especially if somebody should kick at being kicked—leu dollars for "legs, uppers, and soles'. while souls, and miser- 1 able souls at that, are bringing twenty thou \ sand dollars in Sacramento 1 ten dollars! gone I at ton dollars 1 • ■ Next is something that you ought to have, .gentlemen;, a lot of good gallowscs-p-sometimcs .called suspenders. I know that some of you will after a while bo furnished at the State’s ex pense, but you can’t toll which one, so buy where they’re cheap; all that deserve banging aronot supplier! with a gallows, if so, there would bo nobody (oinako laws,-condemn crimi nals, or .hang culprits, until a new election ; made of pUrcgum clastic, stretches likea Judge’s Conscience, and last as long as a California office-holder'will steal; buckles of pure iron, and warranted to hold so tight that ■ no man’s wife can rob him of the breeches ; are, In short, as strong, as good, as perfect, as effectual, and as bona fide as the ordinance against Chinese shops on Dupont street—gone at twenty-five cents. Sam Slick on lawyers. Few things resemble each other more, in na tur’, than an old cunniu’ lawyer and a spider, lie weaves his web into a corper, with no light to show the thread of his net; but in a shade, like—there he waits in his dark office, to receive his visitor. A buzzin’, burrin’, thoughtless fly, thinkin’of nothin’ but his beautiful wings and well made legs, and rather near-sighted withal comes stumblin’, intc the net. *1 beg your pardon,* says the fly,'l really didn’t sec this not work of yours, the weather is foggy, and the streets so confounded dark, I’m afraid I've done mischief.’ ‘Not at all,’ says the snider, bowin’, ‘I guess it’s all my fault. 1 reckon I ought to have hung a lamp out; but pray, don’t move or you may do damage. Allow me to assist you.*— And, then, ho ties up ono leg, and then the oth er and furls up both wings, and has him as fust as Gibcralter. •Noni/ says the spider, 'my good friend,’ (a Ehrase a'fdler allcrs uses, when he’s ngoin’ to o tricky,) ‘l'm afraid you've hurt yourself a considerable sum. 1 must bleed you.’ •Bleed mo !’ says the fly. ‘Excuse me—l’m obliged to you—l don’t require it.’ •Oh! yes, you do. my dear friend,’ and he gets ready for the operation. ‘lf you dare to uo that,’ says the fly, ‘l’ll knock you down ; and I’m a man that what I lay down I stand on.’ ‘You had better get up first,’ says the spider, a laugbin. ‘You must bo bled : you must pay all damages. ’ And he bleeds him, and he bleeds him, till ho gasps for breath, and fuels fainten’ cornin’ on. ‘Let mo go, my good feller,’says the poor fly, ‘and I’ll pay you liberally.’ 'Pay!’ says the spider. ‘You miserable, un circumciscd wretch, you have nothing left to nay with. ‘Takotbal!* and ho gives him the last dig, and ho is a gone coon—bled' to death. A Frenchman, who knew very liUtS En glish. got into a difficulty with an Englishman, who insisted upon fighting it out. Tho French man agreed to this, but wished to know what ho should say if ho got beaten. Being told that ho must cry out‘enough,* they set to. Tho Frenchman, however, forgot the word, and cried out, as ho ho heard some of tho bystanders do, •Hurrah! hurrah 1* To his astonishment; the Englishman pounded all tho harder. This caus ed Monsieur to go to work in such good earnest that tho Englishman soon cried out ‘Enough 1* ] ‘Sivy datagain,' said the Frenchman. ‘Enough I enough !’ cried tho Englishman again. Tho Frenchman in turn exclaimed, ‘By gar! dat is do very vordl was trying to say long lime ago I* K7* “A. little moro animation, dear,” whis pered Lady B to the gentle Susan, who was walking languidly through a quadrille.— ‘Deleave too to manage my own business, mam ma,’ replied tho provident nymph ; ‘I shall not dance my ringlets out of curl for a married inon. ’ ‘Of course not, my love; but! was not aware who your partner was.’ Mantua Rachel.—An English paper says, that at a grand dinner given to Mademoiselle Rachel, previous to her departure from St. Pe tersburg, a Russian officer proposed as a toast, ‘To our meeting in Paris, whore we shall drink champagne to tho health of the great artiste. TO which, >£ad«nQisello, Rachel replied. Chain pagno is very dear,. gentlemen-—foe prisoners. I , xfloff I first became , '.?i i -'Wife. -- Nearly a dozen years ago! to the: old Homestead, In the old.Stata ofiOon nectlcut, Saving just completed my stndleaae 5 student of medicine. jjn >. ly number of peoplo,-.l.,Btoppca.fo£tbqnighvJw 1 a country Inn, In thp ofß——not bo* - log ablo to resume wy journoydiUr a T latO'OOUt on the following day. Having! alwaysjbecn an, admirer of tho country, I was not at all dissat isfied with the' arrangements, and" my plejujtzrd - wafc.further enhanced by finding at Ihcwell-laja supper, table, two young ladies of surpassing loveliness, tho younger of whotb. Ithought-thO' most bewitching little creature,ln^Ojsdstenco. Tho ladles were accompanied .by a youMgcn tleroan about my own ago, with whom I coma not but feel exceedingly annoyed. * He tfpt on ly engrossed ud their attention, but, lucky dog, . as ho was, seemed determined that no other per son should participate In (bo omueeinent*.. An offer of, somo little delicacy ,by jny&Slf-t9 ; 4b° younger of the two. ladies, was met.by/iro'ldy sort of politeness on his part/that effectually: chilled any further attempts at intimacy. • Isoon! left tho table, but I could not driyo;tno .imago’ of tho lovely being—l had just left—from <roy; mind.' Something whispered trio that we shouw bocorao acquainted at some, future time, tho 'interim I fell more than usually uneasy,- :T longed to bo not only an Intimate, but an accepted lover, and bad I been possess ed of all tho wealth of Or<rsußi : l ATbuld‘ i hatO f unhesitatingly poured it in her lap. - In the excitement under which 1 was then »-• boring, I thought a walk might do.roe good,-hot - on opening tho door for-that pufpo'so the night had sot in as dark ns Erebus, and-bd-. ing an entire stranger (hero and not knowing what mischief I might encounter,! made up .toy* mind to compromise tho matter by going to bedv I retired, but for a long time I rolled -and’ tossed about sadly; now one plan' by •which-1* might make tho acquaintance of the young lady 5 would 1 suggest itself, and then another, 1 until at r k last I found myself in a state of dreamy languor,- ■ neither fast asleep nor wide hwoke. . •* . ’I fancied I had heard for the last few momenta a sort of light bustle going on near my bed, but J it gave mu no uneasiness until suddenly somd* one sprung into tho bed, add claspliig.hor afia about mo-whispered—• • - “ Ugh! bow dreadful cold it is, lo bo fcpfelVt say, Julia, wo shall have to lay spoon fashion,' or ulae wo shall freeze.” -;i lloro was an incident. IVhat to. say, or how to act, was a question not .easily’solved.-‘At* last 1 mustered courage enough to say,— ' '■'* “Dear madam, here is somo mistake; Tho Indy did not wait for mo to say more* — With a sharp, quick scream she sprang from tho 1 apartment. I was wondering what In tho.deuco* it could all mean, when, a servant brought ft lamp Into my room, picked up what ladles* parel abo could Dud about tho premises, and lefli ho apartment. You can believe, gentlemen,- hat my slumbers that cvcnJug were far ftonx pilot. \ '' ' /•■■ : i In the morning, I knew not who it was, but I’ was vividly impressed with the idea tha^my t nocturnal visitor was one of the two ladles who had supped with mo tho evening previous, but' which, 1 could not conjecture. I was resolved*! however, to ascertain, on tho first favorable op-, portunlty which might present Itself, and satisfy myself beyond any doubt. On taking my seat at tho breakfast table PU; (he next morning, I placed myself opposite,t.bb. ladles, and was revolving in my mind the inci dent of tho previous evening, when the younger : ol tho two passed her plate, and begged mo .to;, favor her with tho preserves near me. “Certainly,” said I, and as the thought como into my mind that she might bo tho lady. In. question, I added, “will you take them spoon 5 fashion 7” • '-, T Eurakal what an explosion:' The laoy?a taco; tho hue of a crimson dahlia, while tier companion seemed cold and passion-, less. I was satisfied she had keptherdwn conn*’ sol—scraped on acquaintance—fell deeply in* love, and when I reached homo 1 bad the plea? sure of presenting to my parents wy estimable 1 lady, tho present Mrs. Maddox. The Guardian Angel. The Guardian Angel irTPtfris is a roan whoso, duty it is to frequent the drinking shops, and the moment a roan gels tipsy, to take lum un -1 dcr his protection, to accompany hlm horneshd 1 put him to bed. Tho individuals practising; this profession are picked men, men who never 1 drink themselves, who bare the necessary mor al authority to force obedience from the drunk-- en creature they are conveying home, who can defend lum«against attack, and more than all, 1 who con prevent hipn from drinking at tho l shops they pass on their way. The price for; this service is ten sous; and therein not ;an instance on record of an individual thus.bro tcckd home and put in bed having failea to * discharge (his debt of honor. It Is a rule at’ the drinking shops that when n man cannot Bland, he must be taken off, and the Angel straightway called. The Angels are kindly treated by tho shopkeeper, whose interest it is to see that no one of nia customers coroe to harm. They receive the odds and'ends of tho - dinner, and arc recommended to the neighbors when a reliable man for some confidential er rand is wanted. Their honesty is proverbial,' and a Bacchanalian with a hundred francs in his pocket, who is confided to their charge, »3' morally sure of finding his hundred nones where he left them, when ho wakes the ricrt ( rooming. r ■ To those acquainted with the character of 1 the native Parisians, it is unnecessary to ob-> serve, that thu Guardian Angel relics for cus-, tom, principally on tho Englishmen arid .other foreigners, who have not learned to’usowino' without abusing it. ' Too Good to db Lost.— Some ono relates tHo* allowing story, which la too good to bo lost:. A traveller, whom wo afterwards knew, once arrived at a village inn, after a hard day’s travel and being very tired requested a room to sleep in, but the landlord said they weroentirely full *> and it was utterly impossible to accommodate him—that his wife had to sleep on the sofa, and himself on the floor; hut that he would see what his wife could do for him. The good woman oil being applied to, said there >vas one room which he might occupy provided ho would agree. to these conditions, viz ; to enter the rooin late in the dark, and leave it early in the morning,,to prevent scandal, as the room was occupied by a lady. This he agreed to. About two o'clock that night,-dli awful noise was heard in ths house, and our friend, the traveller, was fqund tumbling heels over head down stairs.. On our landlords arriving at the spot, and Inquiring what the matter was, the traveller ejaculated as soon ns ho was able to speak: ‘Ob, Lard; the troman N dead! ’ *1 know that,’ said tho Ijin&j lord, ‘k«f how did you find it out?* ITT-“People arc too given to slander!* said Mrs. Partington, solemnly, as she took'her hands out of some gingerbread she was making, and held them over tho pan as If she was invok ing a blessing on tho savory mass. She turn ed half round as she spoko, and Mrs. Sled, who was busy with her sewing looked up. . ‘"Why will people indulge in calomel,’ continued she. •and give opproprlous names, when they could go along in peace and harnipny with consciences voiding oflencc. Whole neighborhoods are sot into a blaze by scandaliars and tala bearers, land envy is to, tho bottom ofTt, six times out of five. Some folks can’t bear,to soo'abmo folks prosper. Now, if I know my own heart, I don’t believe I’ve got a single enviable quality, and 1 thank heaven fbr it/ Not At Home.— «ls Mr. Bluster within T’~- “ No, Uo la out of town,” aald tho servant.—■ “Whoa can I boo him?” “I don’t know; have you any apodal business with Mr. Bluster?” «* Vos, there i» a small bill I have to settle.”- .. Well,” said the servant,. “ I don’t know who-' thor bo will return this week or not.” ' “But’l wish to pay tho bill, as I am to leave town Im mediately.” “01 you wish, to pay. him sown money? ho Ib up. stairs, Pm thinking; I wilt call him. IToaso walk InU&ho drawing room j tiiboaokalr, sir; yohr hkt if you.,please; Mr. Bluster will bo with you in a moment.’’. C7*A clergyman at an afternoon acrVioo wns asked to road it notice for a woman’s rights lec ture} .which ho did In this wise,! _ <*At half past al* o’clock', ot.tlio school-house in thomt dis trict,’ s AemvlUanerant to crc\ti /*' - -*' .’ti !*'/. rusrr A
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers