AMERICAN VOLUNTEER.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING
By John O. Bratton*
•TERMS: !
SonsoaiPTioN.— One Dollar.and Fifty Gents,
bold;in advance} Two Dollars if paid within the
year j and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if; not
Jjaid within the year. Those terms will bo rigid
y adhered to in every Instance. Nosubscription
discontinued until all arrearages aro paid unless
at the option of the Editor.
Advertisements —Accompanied by the Cash,
htjel not exceeding ono square, will bo inserted
throe times for one Dollar, and twonty-flvo cents
for each additional insertion.' Those of a greater
length in proportion. ... _
' JoB-PniNTiNQr-Such as Hand Bills, Posting
Bills, Pamphlets)'Blanks, Labels, &C., &c., oxe
fcutedwUh accuracy and at the shortest notice.
BBB4SL KQT, BUT VfORK.
Dream not, but work! Bo hold Ibo bravo I
Let not a coward spirit crave
Escape ftoroitasKs allotted J
thankful lor toil and danger bo £
Dnty’s Ugh call will make tfioe fleo
,Tbe vicious—the besotted.
Think not thy share too groat 5
Speak to thy pdst,’erect, elate;
, ■ Strength from above is given,
To those who combat sin and wrong,
Nor ask how much, nor count how long
. They with the foo have striven I
Wage cooslcas war ’gainst lawless might 5
Speak but tho truth—act out tho right—
Shield the defenceless.
JJeflrm —bo strong—lmprove the time—
Bitty tho sinner—but for crime, ,
•Crush it relentless I
Strive on, strive on, nor over deem
Thy work complete. Caro not to scorn.
Bat be, a Christian triie.
Think, speak and’act ’gainst mean device;
Wfestle with those who sacrifleo
The many to tho few.'
Forget thyself, bnt bear In mind
The claims of suffering humankind;
* So shall the welcome night
Unseen o’ertako thee, and thy soul,
Sinking in slumber at tho goal,
Wake In eternal light I
THE DAISY.
Not worlds on worlds in phalanx deep,
Need wo to prove a God is here—
Tho Daisy, fresh from winter’s sleep,
Telia of hia hands in lines aa clear.
For who but ho who arch’d the skies,
And poured tho dfiy-sprlng’s living flood.
Wondrous alike in all ho tries,
Gonld real I ’tho Daisy’s purple bad ?
Mould Us green cup, Us wiry slom.
Its fringed border nicely spin,
.And cut tho gold embossed gem;
That, sot In silver, gleams within 1
And fling it urtrCstrainpd and free,
O’er hill and dale and deaort sod,
That man where’er ho walks, may suo
In every step tho alacip of God.
HiflfeK.nnmiJj. •
LOVER’S SACRIFICE,’ OR,
A SATISFACTORY EXPLANATION.
CHAPTER I.
•I can no longer struggle against tho current
of misfortune,' exclaimed Mr. Whiting, a small
merchant, who had by tho pressure, of hard
times become somewhat Involved, *1 am ruined.'
‘Nay, my husband, do not bo distressed.—
Worse .calamities than this might happen, and
wc will make the best of it.'
‘But wife* I must full; I cannot sustain my
self another‘day.’
‘You have done all you can do to avert the
misfortune, and if it must como, let us not re
pine, but bear it like Christians.’
‘I will try hard to keep calm ; but it seems
hard after weathering the worst of the storm,
to bo wrecked in sight of land.’
‘Perhaps your creditors will give you
time,’suggested Mrs. Whiting. /
*1 cannot hope it; the note which comes duo
to-morrow, and which lam utterly unable to
pay, is in the hands of my bitterest enemy.’
'Ho will not distress you.’
«| know him well, fle is a villian.’
‘Who do you mean ?’
‘Baker.’
‘God help us if ho is your creditor.’
‘As near as I can leam, ho bought the note
on purpose to perplex me and perhaps to obtain
his revenge.*
•Why is ho so bitter against you ?’
‘Because I exposed a swindling operation in
whiih ho was engaged.’
‘Howmuch is the note, father?* inquired a
beautiful, hazlc-cycd girl, who had not before
jSpokcn, but who had been listening with intense
interest to the conversation between her father
and mother.
‘Thrco thousand dollars, Sarah,’ replied Mr.
Whiting, fixing a glance of anxiety upon the
fair girl.
‘Can’t you borrow it, father ?’
‘Alas, my child, my credit is very much im
pared. My notes have been too thick in State
Street, for rao to borrow without paying an ox
orbiant price; and that, I think, would wrong
my creditors In case anything should happen.’
‘lt is not very dreadful to fail, is it father ?’
‘lt would bo ruinous to me, my child. If I
could pay this note to-morrow, I could get along
very well. I should not have bccii so but for
the failure of Jones.’
‘But I suppose U must bo, ana arc must con
tent ourselves to livo a little niorij closely than
wo have been accustomed to.’
Sarah asked no more questions, and though
the conversation was continued between her
father And mother, she seemed to pay no atten
tion to it. She appeared to bo musing deeply
over something,
As the evening advanced. John Bamet. a
dork, who had for some months been attentive
to Sarah, and who, report said, was a favorite
suitor, made bis accustomed evening visit.
Everybody said that John Bnmct was a nice
young man. and every way worthy of so amia
ble and beautiful a wife as Sarah Whiting would
undoubtedly make.
If thcro is anything in smiles and gentle
Words, the affection of tho young clerk was
warmly reciprocated by Sarah. They were not
engaged ■ however, though ho called at Mr.
Whiting s house from four to seven evenings in
a week.
Mr. Whiting and his wife retired at an early
hour in tho evening, leaving tho lovers to have
it out
As usual, John Barnet begged her to make
him happy by promising to be bis forever. To
his utter surprise and consternation, sho cOuld
never bo his wife, and entreated him to think
no more about her. Of course, tho lover press*
od her for an explanation of this sudden and
remarkable change in her manner towards him.
But sho could not even do this, and John took
his leave feeling that ho had hot another friend
in tho world.
CHAPTER 11.
Sarah Whiting had another suitor in tho per
son of a wealthy and eccentric old bachelor,
who, after withstanding tho assaults of thou
sands of bright eyes and bewitching smiles,
had laid his heart at tho feet of tho beautiful
heroine. Wo don’t blame tho old fellow for fall
ing in lovo with her, any more than wo blame
Sarah for laughing at him when ho throw him
self at her feet and ‘popped tho question.’
Mr. Ladyko Somerset was only about forty,
bo that if Sarah had of been less cruel U would
not have exactly been ‘May and December,' but
about Juno and November. lie loved her with
all tho fervor which tho March of time had left
BY JOHN B. BRATTON.
VOL 41.
in his heart, and was actually disconsolate when
she told him ‘no.’
Mr. Ladyko Somerset was not an ill-looking
man, though 'bo was an old bachelor. True,
his hair was not so black and glossy as it had
been twenty years before; there was on occa
sional iron gray hair, which looked a little sus
picious, yet when he began to make his codrt
to thd divinity of his dreams, even these disap
peared, and the people were malicious enough to
say it was through tho influence of-a certain
compound applied by the barber. True, also,
there Was now and then a wrinkle in his face,
which some young ladies affect to dislike.
But what of all these things? Old ago is
honorable, and tho iron gray hair and wrinkles
did not in tho Icast.mar tho kindly impression
of his v phiz.
Ho was ft very clever fellow, and though tho
merry little Sarah Whiting could not help
laughing when ho popped the question to her,
she would very willingly have had just such an
article, or something of that sort. In short,
she liked him but did’ht love him.
Mr. Ladyke Somerset was a firm believer in
the ancient verity, that ‘‘faint heart ne’er won
fair lady,” and he determined not to faint or
give up the chase, till he had bagged tho game,
or had seen her the wife of another. Conse
quently ho held out all tho inducements in his
power to engage her heart in his favor.
He was not what young ladies call on “old
fool,” for ho had sense enough to feel that he
never could gain the victory on the strength of
bis physical attributes—his personal beauty.
But.ho. was an amiable roan at heart and
trusted solely to tho influence of his moral and
mental Qualities for'snccess. They had thus
far failed him. though he still persevered.
Mr. Whiting, readily understanding what
these attentions meant, did all in his power to
favor his suit; for he was an old-fashioned roan
and placed more confidfencc in the power of a
good heart and plenty of money, to make his
daughter happy, than he did in the more com
mon attributes of youth and good looks, even
though the possessor oftho first nnmed com
modity has passed the meridian oflifo.
But Sarah had a mind of her own in these
matters, and though she appreciated her- kind
father’s motives, she could not thinkjof throw
ing herself away on a man of forty even if he
was an angel.
It was only the afternoon of the day proce- ■
ding the conversation wo have recorded, that
Mr. Somerset had paid her a visit, and renewed
his protestations of love to her. She had tola
him for tho twentieth time, ‘no.*
When she hoard her father relate the partic
ulars of his embarrassment, the image of Mr.
Somerset had involuntarily presented itself to
her mind. He was abundantly able to assist
them in this emergency, and for the love bo bore
her, perhaps he would.,
But then if she applied to him. and ho affor
ded tho necessary aid. sho would bo under obli
gations to him, which she might find it very
inconvenient to discharge.
Ruin stared her father in tho face. Hchad
said it was ruin, and she was sure it was.
What right had she to bo selfish and over
nico, when she hod I t'lfrhprpowec lo' nivert the
dreadful calamity.; Her father was all-in-all to
her. and though some girls are so sentimental
as to sacrifice father, mother, homo and friends
for a lover, she would sacrifice a dozen lovers
for her father alone, to say nothing of her moth
er, who was worth at least two dozen more.
Let not tho reader suppose the pretty Sarah
did not lovo him upon whom sho smiled—she
; but, her bump of veneration was bigger
than that other bump on tho back of the head.
Her resolution was formed, and about eleven
o’clock the next day. she put on her bonnet and
walked up to the Rcvicrc House, where Mr.
Somerset boarded.
CHAPTER in.
Mr. Ladykc Somerset was a nabob, and re
tained a private parlor to which the obsequious
servant conducted Sarah Whiting.
Of course the bachelor was reasonably aston
ished at the visit.
‘lndeed, Miss Whiting. I am delighted to see
you.’ exclaimed he with rapturous enthusiasm.
■I knew you would be, and that’s the reason
I came.' langhcd Sarah, and at the same time
she blushed so sweetly that Mr. Ladykc Som
erset had almost dissolved in a rapture of de
light.
‘Ah, my dear Miss Whiting, you are not al
ways so kind to me ns you ore to-day.’
•But I always will be hereafter,’ and Sarah
smiled, though her heart beat like tho bounding
of a race horse.
‘Ah, you arc so good—and so pretty, too.’
•I will save you the trouble of all those use
less adulations by saying that 1 have como to
accept your oft repeated proposal.’
‘lndeed .'* and the bachelor was taken all
aback : ho could hardly believo tho evidence of
his own senses.
‘What, sir! do you recede from your offer V
said Sarah, laughing with all her might—a
very convenient cloak for young ladies, some
times.
‘Capital joke—ch?’ and tho bachelor laugh
ed too. g
‘No joke, sir, I am in earnest.'
Sarah looked as sober as tho matron of tho
Orphan Asylum.
‘Nay, nay, my pretty Sarah, do not make
sport of me.’
‘I will give you my promise in writing with
my signature, if you desire it.’
‘ls it possible that you mean so?’ said the
doubtful Mr. Somerset.
‘Take my hand.’
The bachelor took it, pressed it to his Ups,
and began to think himself the happiest man in
live world.
‘I am yours, Mr. Somerset.’
‘Bless you, Sarah.’
‘One one condition.’
■Name it. 1
Sarah recounted the story of her father’s em
barrassment.
‘Fill me out a check for three thousand dol
lars, and I promise to become your wife within
one year.
Mr. Ladyko Somerset mused. lie appeared
to bo in doubt. Ho was a high-soulcd man, and
the idea of buying tho hand of his wife, wos,
to tho last degree, repugnant to him.
‘You hesitate, sir; 1 know you do not lovo
mo,’ said Sarah with apparent plquo.
‘On my soul I do; I agree; hero is tho
check,’ replied Mr. Somerset, as ho seated him
self at tho table and drew the check.
Now incloso it in a note to my father, Baying
you heard of his trouble from a mutual friend,
and then beg the privilege of loaning him the
amount of tho check
• And you sneriilo yourself to your father,
my fair Sarah ?’ said tho bachelor, as ho sealed
tho note.
‘ldo.’
‘You are an angel!’
‘Nay ; I must go now.’
. The check did tho business, and Mr. Whit
ing was as happy as ho ever was in his life.—
Baker could not sleep that night because ho had
, been foiled in his rovengo.
In the evening Mr. Somerset called at the
house to see his future bride. Sho treated him
kindly, and permitted him to ait By her side,
hold her work-basket, and pick up her thimble
“OUR COUNTRY—MAT IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY-”
'■■ ‘ • '.V “V" ~ , ' ’ii i> ,” 1
when she dropped it—which was glory enough
for one evening, to one os moderate in his
wishes os tho bachelor beau of our heroine.
Bat about eight o’clock, to Sarah’s utter con
sternation, John Barnet paid his usual visit.-r-
The poor clerk was sadly distressed, os well ho
might be, and called to desire an explanation
of the cool manner in which ho had been dis
missed.
The presence of Mr. Somerset was all tho ex
planation he desired. He was Uneasy, he could
not join in the conversation, and aware that he
Was making himself disagreeable to the party,
he determined to take his leave, but how could
he leave her ?
Ge knew Mr. Somerset to bo one of the best
men in tho world, and ho resolved to request an
interview with him on the spot.
The worthy bachelor kindly condescended to
walk down the street a short distance with him,
and John Barnet told him the whole story; how
ho loved Sarah, and how ho had every reason to
believe that Sarah loved him. Ho was suro
that some unfair advantage had been taken,
and howanted the matter explained.
‘Como back to tho house, young man, and I
will give you all the satisfaction you desire. ’
John consented.
A few minutes sufficed to explain to Mr.
Whiting and tho discarded lover the nature of
tho sacrifice, wtftcb the devoted Sarah had made
for her father’s sake.
‘Bless you, roy child!’ exclaimed'the mer
chant. his eyes filling with tears of love, os ho
tenderly embraced his noble-hearted daughter.
‘You understand it now, don’t you, Mr. Bar
net V said tho bachelor with a good nalured
smile.
‘I do. indeed,’ replied John, sorrowfully, ‘she
is a noble girl, and I shall never cease to love
her, though she can never bo mine.’
Sarah cast a sad glance at him, and her eyes
filled with tears. Sho never knew till that mo
ment how much she loved the poor clerk. But
it was all over now—the bright dreams oflovo
had passed away and she could never bo happy
again.
‘What. Sarah ! do you recede from your pro
mise I’ asked Mr. Somerset.
"‘Nay, Ido not. Farewell, Johru farewell
forever,’ and the poor girl sobbed convulsively.
‘Farewell, Sarah,’ and tho clerk seized his
hat and rushed towards the door.
'Hallo 1 stop! young man,’ exclaimed Mr.
Somerset, ‘don’t go off mad. Give mo your
hand.
Tho bachelor took the clerk’s hand.
‘You are a good fellow : I honor you. Yonr
hand Sarah,’ and Mr. Somerset took the little
white hand of the weeping maiden and placed
it in the hand pt. John Barnet. ‘Be happy!’
‘What do you mean, sir,’asked Sarah, be-,
wildercd at the actions of tho bachelor.
‘Mean ! You love him. don’t you ?’
•With pll my soul!’
‘And you do not love me?’
Sarah began to understand.
‘I like you.’
‘You aro his; .bo happy ! ’ You did'not for a
moment suppose I could be so mean„as to. take
such a noble act of. self-sacrifice,
as you pmbriPcd today?—-No! X IPv6 you but
I will not make you miserable,’
Poor Sarah! How happy sho was, and how
sho pitied poor Mr. Somerset, who loved her so
much. She felt that if sho had never seen John
Barnet, sho would have becnglod to become hia
wife, iron grey and wrinkles to tho contrary
notwithstanding—ho was such a dear, good
soul!
‘Be happy, and that isn’t all; when I dio.
you shall have half my fortune.*
The bachelor kept his word, and though ho
did’nt dio of a broken heart, ho did not live
many years ; yet when ho did die, tho hand of
woman—of as true and loving a woman ns over
made home a paradise—smoothed his dying
p'llow, and closed his eyes in their Inst sleep :
and there were sincere mourners nt his bier.
Poor Mr. Ladykc Somerset! though ho found
not a wife in Sarah Whiting ho found a true
frignd.
Yankee in Italy.
In a lecture on what ho had seen abroad
Wendell Philips observes;
“In Italy you will see a fanner breaking up
his land with two cows and the root of a tree
for a plow, while ho is dressed in skins with
hair on. In Rome, Vienna and Dresden, if you
hire a man to saw your wood, ho places oneend
of tho saw on tho ground and tho other against
his breast, and taking the wood in his hands
rubs it against tho saw. And ho will be all
day doing two hours’ work. It is a solemn fact
(hat in Florence, a city filled with tho triumphs
of art, there is not a single anger, and if a car
penter would bore a hole ho docs it with a red
hot poker! This results not for a wont of in
dustry, but of sagacity, of thought. Tho pco
(ilc arc by no means idle. They toil early and
ato, men, women and children, with an indus
try that shames labor saving Yankees. Thus
ho makes labor that tho poor may live.
In Romo clmrconl is principally usedfor fuel,
and you will see a string of twenty mules bring
ing sacks on their backs, when one mule would
draw it all inacart. But thcchorcool vendernever
had a cart, and so keeps hts twenty mules and
feeds them. There is no want of industry, but
there is no competition. A Yankee always
looks haggard and nervous as though he was
cashing a dollar. "With us money 13 every
thing, and when we go abroad we are surprised
to find that the dollar has ceased to be almighty.
If a Yankee refuses to do a job for fifty cents
ho will probably do it, for five. But one of
tho lazzaroni of Naples, who Ims earned two
cents and eaten them, will work no more that
day if you offer him ever so large a sum. He
has earned enough for tho day and wants no
more. So tliero is no eagerness for making
money, no motive for it and everybody moves
slowly.”
Young America.—When Kate and Ellen
Bateman, were in Ixmdon, they were invited by
tho Queen to spend a week at Windsor Coslfo
with the royal children. While on their visit
tho Prince of Woles took his Beat for tho first
time in the Houso of Lords, by the aide of hia
mother. When ho relumed homo, before ho
would allow tho glittering Jewels to bo taken
from his breast, bo sought Kate Bateman, and
finding her in tho royal nursery, with his sis
ters and brothers, ho taking her hand,'said,
“Kate, as goon as I am a man ma’sgoingtogivo
mo tho throne, and then I'll make you my little
wife and Queen.” Kato then said, “Well, little
Wales, if you will boa good boy, study hard,
and when you grow up, select some honorable
profession I will take your caso into considera
tion,’’
Think.—Thought engenders thought. Plaoo
ono Idea on paper, another will follow It, and
still another, until you have written ft pago.—
You cannot fathom your mind.' There Is ft woll
of thought there which has no bottom, Tho
; more you draw from U, tho more oloarand fruit
ful it will bo. If you neglect (o think yourself,
And use other people’s thoughts, giving them
utterance only, you will never know what you
aro capable of. At first your Ideas may coma
out In lumps, homely ana shapeless { but tjmo
and perseverance will arrange and polish them.
Learn to think and you will loom to write t the
more you think tho bolter will you express your
Ideas,
CARLISLE, PA,, AUGUST 10, 1854.
mmux AMn:TO ; iateow.
• 'D Y CHAIIi: KB ! BWAIN.
, As tho aim now glows on cattfj,
Age a liavo bobela it glow {J
As tbo flowers now spring to-birth,
Spring they thousand-year-ago {
So each day mast pass away,',.
Bringing smiles or sending sorrow;—
As tho world was yesterday;;.
So *twilf bo to-morrow, • ' >;
‘’’Wherefore should wo ownoui pain,
Since tho pain, like all things, gocth 1
. Whereas tho wlsaom to compwin,
Siqco.onr feeling noi ono kimveth ?
-Hearts may bloom,-yot show flowers;
Eyes’may monrn,,yct hid their sorrow; —
As tho world went yesterday |
So 'twill go, to-niorrow. ■,
Life is like tho wind that blows
When tho clouds of morn wo breaking \
Llfo is like the stream that Cdwa—
Something leaylng-rsomolhing taking,
Bcttercherish What we may, ■"
Than recall the past With sorrow j
As tho world rolled yesterday. 1 .
So ’twill roll to-morrow,. '1
THE BEGGAR'S A
You will not believe it—you k who promenade
the fashionable pave pfChcsnut'street, and ad
mire the beauties of the city; -ypu will not be
lievo that such a fair ractropofiican present us
with scenes of sin and misery character to
appal the heart and stagger Ybo mind. You
may, perhaps, give a verbal fuSent, but you
cannot realize it. But what thb‘ eyes see and
the ears hear, that wo must believe; and having
personally explored such abodftr of horror as
Baker, Small, Mary streets anev Pino alley, we
speak - with our host, in
not be coined to convey an approach to a faith
ful picture of the dens wherejbuman nature
wallows in crime and wretchcdiiiss. We num
ber them not by couples, but by.hundrods, and
their ragged, filthy,’moated population, not by
the hundred, but by the thousand.
We are about to lead you to ode of these dens.
It fronts upon a street, or rattler, alley, some
where near ten feet wide,' having a rough pave
ment upon which thereareusuallyinnumemble
puddles of mud and filth, whictyscud up odors
“whereat most noses great indigna
lion.” On both sides of this gloomy alley we
find dilapidated frame tenements; with windows
stuffed with rags, and doors which seem ready
to tumble from their, leather bipgcs.. Here and
there you may see a few cakes and a jar of can
dies in the window,.indicating that those who
live within thebousbkccp nkindof shop; while
at each comer of the nllcy.there dro the red cur
tains hnd signs of grogshops,.-Next door to
one of these rum holes is a ■ species of general
store, such as we may sec in a country village,
at which commodities of every kind, but of a
quality suited to the pestilential neighborhood,
may bo obtained, either in exchange for money,
or rags, bones, stolen or begged dolhbs, & c.
It is a bleak night, but the xn;>on is up, and
her cold light streams down eVqtjuto the alley’s
gloomy recesses. - Hero ww*f*nny. candle
burning in tbc dirty wimf6w,ana The sounds
of riotous revelry come upon oar cars. Revelry
in such a habitation—a two-story frame, which
appears about to crumble at the centre, and
which shakes throughout as the revellers dance.'
Enter and survey 1 The penny candle is the
only light. The .little room is crowded, and
ancf such a crowd 1 White and black—men
and women—boys and girls—all in mgs and all
in filth. Pah! The air seems impregnated with
rum ; end rum has kindled a lurid lire in every
eye.
Black Levi, the fiddler, seated on the window
ledge, saws away furiously at “Mrs. Mcl/cod”
and “Nigger on do Woodpile,” while four bare
foot whites keep time in a style liaving more of
strength than grace in its aspect. The real of
the crowd ait or 101 l upon the floor around the.
room, drinking the maddening poison from
mugs and cups, talking in a language which
only Satan himself should translate, and sing
ing obscene songs, some of which have noisy
choruses. Among this wretched throng you
may see Joe. the Monk, drinking, but saying
little; Nell, drinking, also, and striving to talk
and sing her' guilty partner into a pleasant hu
mor ; old Luke, lying stupidly drunk in a cor
ner: Bartholomew, tho Italian, gaily drunk,
but still with his ideas about him, flirting with
some extremely degraded specimens of the fe
male sex ; and a number of other individuals
well hnown in n bogging capacity to tho pnblic
streets. Suddenly a young mullatlo woman
opened tho cellar door, and put her bloated
face, upon which were large tear-drops, into tho
room.
‘joe, said she to the Monk, ‘Joe, father's
(lyin'—l know ho is. Can’t you make less
noise ?’
‘No, wo can’t tnako less nolso, if the infernal
nigger is dyin clear out of this!’ replied the
savage brute, and almost immediately Bartholo
mew slammed the door in the face of the woman,
pushing her down the steps.
‘Oh! Joe. she says her father’s (lyin’. Let
na have less noise. If it’s only for alitllo while,’
interposed the voice of Nell. You are a guilty
creature, Nell—deeply dyed in the scarlet, NeU,
but you deserve a blessing for those few words.
•Hush your mouth I Let the nigger get out
of tins world in jig time, and it will be good for
his soul. 11a! ha V Save us from such alaugh
as that of the Monk.
‘Suppose old Luke was to die,’ again ventured
Nell.
‘The sooner the better—the old rotten stump.
"What's ho good for? lie brings nothin’ home
any more,* rejoined the Monk. ‘But do you
get away from me, Nell. Hero, you Italian,
tako this gal out in a reel !*
In an instant Bartholomew had seized Nell
by the arm, and dragged her upon the floor to
dance. They had taken but a few steps, when
a hurley negro, wildly drunk, staggered for
ward. and clasped tho girl in bis arms. As
quick os lightning Joe wag upon his feet; and,
knife in hand, ho rushed upon the reeling negro.
A desperate struggle ensued, in which all en
gaged. The light was put out, and the com
batants struck at each other with blind fury,
at the same time shouting, cursing and shriek
ing. The watchman’s rattle was heard i tho
door burst open, and after a severe struggle a
number of tho belligerents were carried off to
tho station-house. Bu t Joo, Nell and Bartholo
mew had contrived to eftcot their concealment
in the house. Old Luke, trampled and kicked
about like a block, was left lying on the floor.
Tho frightened children sought a refuge in somo
other dens.
Tho next morning, tho neighbors found Iho
father of the mulatto woman who was so savage
ly repulsed by tho monk, lying stark and stiff
in death, on some straw in the damp and loath
some ocllar. Joo and Bartholomew continued
their business with indifference, lor these wore
scenes of frequent occurrence. .All this is terri
ble,' wo know, but it is tho terrible truth.
O’*lt seems paradoxical, but nevertheless
true, that tho latest intelligence always consists
of the earliest news.
(£/»The young lady who let down tho win
dow-curtain to keep tho man in the moon from
seeing her in her night-clothes, has been seen at
oburou with a holo In her stocking. •’
CHEAP.
“Give me freedom in everything,” said a
man to us a few days since “I have been a mem
ber of a church for forty years and up to this
day it has not cost mo a penny
This reminds us oi an anecdote of Rev. Mr.
R.,a distinguished Methodist preacher „woll
known in tho West, who was remarkable for his
piety and eloquehco as well as for his occasion
al eccentricities. Ho went to hisrostafow days
since, after having labored long and faithfully
in his master’s service.
On ono occasion bo was preaching with great
fervor on the frecncss of tho gospel, and around
him was an attentive congregation, with eager
eyes turned to tho preacher and drinking every
word into their souls. Among tho rest was an.
individual who was more remarkable for open
ing his mouth to say amen than for opening his
purse. Though ho never gave money tor tho
support of tho gospel yet ho might be said to
support tho pulpit, for ho always stood by it.—
Ho had on this occasion taken his usual station
near tho preacher’s stand, and was making his
responses with more than usual animation. Af
ter a burst of burning eloquence from tho prea
cher, ho clapped his bands in a kind of ootacy.
“Yes thank God! llmvo been a Methodist for
twenty-Qvo years and it has not cost mo twenty
five cental” “God bless your stingy soul!”
waa tho preacher’s cmphctlc reply. —Louisville
Examiner.
Discretion Before Decency.
Not long since, snyg tho Parkersburg Ga
zette, a big double-jointed and rough dressed
backwoodsman went Aboard .on ’onp; of. our
boats, paid charges and forthwltjfbetlfed to his
stateroom. Happening to puss thtf *way» soon
after, tho Captain observed*that the new comer
had gone to bud with bisbootson. This breach
of decorum at once aroused” tho “Old man’s”
iro, so clutching tbu sleeper’s shoulders, ho
gavo,sundry shakes and broke forth in a regu
lar volley of real river rhetoric, abounding in ex
pletives and concluded with the „pretiuent in
quiry s
“How in the h—ll oamo you to turn In with
your boots on 7”
This query brought sleepy to his reckoning :
so, assuming a sitting posture, ho quickly re
turned tho'Captaln’s broadside, after tho follow,
ing fashion :
“Dod rot your stupid nature I How come I
to get in bed with my boots on ? Why, you ig
norant cuss you-—do yon wan’t a follow *to turn
in among nil these infernal bedbugs barefooted I
Efyou do, you’re greener nor I bo—darned cf
you aint.”
So saying, anoosy went to sleep and the Cap
tain won U—aloft to cool olf, greatly admiring tho
lodger’s discretion,if ho could not commend his
decency.
Uookino Loot’s Gown. —“Well just os I was
ready to start away down comes Lucy to tho
keeping room, with her arms behind her bend, a
fixing of the hooks and eyes.”
“ Man alive, arc you here yet I I thought you
were oft’ guning an hour ago,—who’d thought
you were here!”
“Gunning!” said I; Lucy, my gunning Is
over, I shan’t go any more now; I shall go
homo. I agree with you, shivering alone unde
a wot bush for hoars is no fun,but if Lucy was
there— 1 ” ”**
«Got out” said she; “don’t talk nonsense
Sam ond just fasten the hook an’ cyo on my
frock, will you?”
“Sho turned round her back to mo. Weill
took tho book in one hand and tho eyo in tho
other, but’orth and seas, my eyes fairly snap*
ped again. I never saw such a nock sincolwas
raised. It sprung right out of tho breast and
shoulders, full round, and then taporod up to
tho head like a swan’s—’(would beet (bo-most
white and red roso over scon. It mado mo all
eyes, I just stood stock still; I couldn’t movq.o
finger If I should dio for It.”
“What alls you Sara said she,” “ that you 1
don’t hook it?” i
“ Why,” said I, “Lucy dear, my fingers is nil
thumbs, that’s u tact; 1 can’t handle such things
as you can.
“ Wellcome,” said she, “makehaste—mother
will bo hero directly.”
“ At last ] shut both eyes and fastened it ami
when 1 had done said I—there is one thing that
I must say Lucy.”
“ What’s that ?” said she.
“ That you stump all Connecticut to show as
angcliferous neck as you have, I never saw flic
boot of it In all my born days—lt’s the most—”
“ And you may stump States,” said she “ to
produce another bold, for’ard, Impudent, un.
mannerly tongue as you have—so now, get along
with you.”
Woman Lawykah.— Tho New Bedford Mer
cury, after chronicling tho fact that one of tho
female spoutcra In the late \V oman’s Rights Con
vention said she was studying law with a view
to practice it, saya, quite humorously:
<< Wo wislt tills now Portia all possible success,
though wo cannot help thinking she would do
hotter with a little ’un than Lyttleton, with a
cap than a capias. All womcif like a declara
tion, though most prefer another kind to that in
a wrt. Still our Blnckstono in skirts may sue.
coed wonderfully well In -courting, and win a
silk gown in advance of all her male competi
tors. Tho only injustice U, that her rhetoric
may bo heightened and rendered more heavenly
by a pretty countenance—tho present race of
lawyers being by no means beautiful as to the
phiz. In that case, as Sappho filched tho lau
rels from Pindar, not by tho force of her poetry,
but by the fairness of her fhco.so ’Squire Nancy
or Polly may carry off decisions from our soft
hearted judges, when tho law and tho evidence
are both on tho side of somo long-nosed, 111-fav.
ored special pleader in pantaloons.”
Hard or llbarino—DoiNoa Bun. —‘l hare
a small bill against you,* said tho pertinacious,
looking collector, as he entered tho store of one
who had acquired tho character of ft hard cus
tomer. ‘Yea, sir, ft very fine day. indeed,’ was
tho reply. ‘I am not sneaking of tho weather,
but your bill,* replied Peter in a loud key. ‘lt
would bo belter if we had a-litUorain.’ ‘Con
found tho rain,’ continued tho collector, and
raising his voice: ‘Have you any money to pay
on the bill ‘Beg your pardon, I’m hard of
hearing. I have made it a rule not to loan my
funds to strangers, and I really don’t recognize
you.’ ‘l’m collector for the Philadelphia Doily
Extinguisher,sir,and I have a bill against you,*
persisted the collector at tho top of his voice, ,
producing tho bill and thrusting it into tho face
of his debtor. ‘l’ve determined to endorse for j
no one, you may put that note back in your ,
pocket-book, I really can’t endorse it.* Con- ,
found your endorsements—will you pay it ?’•— <
‘You’ll pay it, no doubt, sir; but there a ftl- j
ways ft risk about theso matters you know, so .
I must decline it.’ ‘The money must bo mine ,
today.* ‘Oh, yes—‘ninety days, but I would ,
not endorse for you for a week : so clear out of j
my store. It’s seldom that I’m pressed upon \
for on endorsement, even by my friends; on tho ,
part of a stranger, sir, your conduct is inexpli- J
cable. Bo not force mo to put you out; leave ;
the premises.’ And the bill was returned to
tho Extinguisher office, endorsed—‘so confound
ed deaf that ho couldn’t understand.’—Hha
(rated News.
Swipes, I've just kicked your Wil
liam out of doors.”
“Well, Hr. Swingle, it’s tho first Bill you’ve
footed for this many a day.”
DyMrs. Hollyhock tlilnks it " rather queer”
that tho rising of a little quick silver In a glass
tube should make the weather so awful hot*
AT 82,00 PER ANNUM.
NO. 9.
Making Bread,
The Rhode Island Society for the Promotion
of industry gave the first premium on bread to '
Mrs. Hiram Hill, of Providence. The following
{a Mrs. Bill’s recipe for making the bread exhi
bited by her i
“For two loves of the ordinary size take two
potatoes, pare them, slice them very thin, and
boil quick, until quite soft, then mash to a fine
pulp, and add little by little, two quarts of boil
ing water, stirring until a starch is formed } let
this cool, and then add one-third of a cup of
yeast. This forms the ‘‘sponge,” which should
romaln.ln a moderately warm place for ten or
twelve hours, or “over night.” "When the
“Sponge” Is ready, add flourpand work it until
you have formed a stiff, firm mass. The longer
and more firmly this is kneaded the hotter the
bread.
Let the kneaded mass remain say from half to
three-quarters of an hour to rise, then divide
into pans, where it should remain safe fifteen
minutes, care being taken that it docs not rise
too much and crack, then put the loves into a
quick oven and bake, say three-quarters of on
hour. If the oven is not hot enough the bread
will rise and crack, if too hot the surface will
harden too rapidly and confine the loaf,—flfam
mouth Farmer .
Origin of the Telescope.
The son of a spoctaclomakor of Middlclmrg, i
Itt Holland, happening to amuse himself in h!s
fUther’s shop by holding two glasses between his (
finger and thumb and varying their distances, i
perceived tho weather cock of the church spire i
opposite to him much larger thsn ordinary, and i
apparently much nearer and turned upsidodown. •
This now wonder exciting tho father’s amaze- i
ment, ho adjusted two glasses on a board, ren- i
dcring them moveable at pleasure ; and thus ,
formed tho first rude prospective glass. Gall- j
leo, hearing of tho invention, set his mind to i
work, in order to bring it to perfection. lie fix* i
ed glasses at tho end of long organ pipes, and
constructed a telescope, which he soon directed i
to (bo surronndlng heavens. Ho discovered
four moons revolving round tho planet Jupiter,
spots on the surface of the sun, and tho rota
tion of that globe round its axis ; mountains and :
valleys In the moon, and numbers of fixed stars ,
where scarcely one was visible to the naked
eye. These discoveries wore made about tho
year 1010. . Since that period, by moans of im
proved instruments, the celestial wonders of the
universe have been explored. By the help of
telescopes, combined with tho art of measuring
the distances and magnitudes of tho heavenly
bodies, our views of the granduro of the Al
mighty, of tho plonlttudo of His power, and of
tho extent of His universal empire, are exten
ded far beyond what could have been conceived
In past ages. Wo can plainly perceive that tho
kingdom of God extends through the unlimit
ed regions of space, comprehending within its
vast circumference thousands of suns, and ten
thousands of worlds, all ranged In majestic or
at immense distances from each other * and ail
supported and governed '‘by Him who rides u
pon tho heaven of hcavous—whoso dominion is
au everlasting dominion, whose greatness in un
searchable, and whoso understanding Is infinite. 1
The invention of tho telescope has unfolded to
our yiow not only thousands but hundreds of
1 thousands, and millions of worlds ; and the high*
er the magnifying powers of tho telescope are,
' tho morg numerous the celestial orbs appear,
leaving no room to doubt that countless myrids
Ho /hr beyond tho reach of tho finest glasses
that can bo constructed by human skill, and j
which are known only to Him “who counts Hid
number of tho stars and calls (hem by tbclr
I names.” I
One op the Yarns.— The Waukesha (IVjs.)
Democrat takes off the richest story-about the
speed of tho cars on tho Valley road we have
seen m a long lime. IVe publish it, not to give
currency to the reports injurious to the road,
but for the humor of it:—
Travelers of leisure, however, say they like
this road much better than any other in the
country, it is so much like the Erie canal—they
can jump ofijo nick strawberries, shoot pig
eons, liquor up, &c., and occasionally return to
sit on the cars to rest. Last week wo conver
sed with a farmer on tho line of the road, who
happened to have three sheep killed on the track.
He informed us that he spent ten days in vain,
in endcovoring to find out who owned theroad.
that he might sue for damages ; he then con
sulted an honest attorney, who informed him j
that ho could not prove that the cars ever run
fast enough to overtake a sheep or anything I
else. A horse thief who was arrested at Fon
du Lac a short time since, upon being informed
that ho was sentenced to the state prison, re
plied that he did not care if they sent him by
railroad, as his time would expire before he
reached there.
Sckn'e os tub Onio—Our boat stopped to
take in wood. On the shore, among a crowd,
was a remarkably stupid fellow, with his hands
in his pockets and his upper hp hanging down.
A dandy, ripe for a scrape, tipped nods and
winks all about saying, “now 111 have some
fun; I'll frighten the greehorn.” !Io jumed
ashore with a drawn bowic, brandishing it in
the face of the “green ’un,” cxclaimingv “now
I’ll punish vou. I’ve been lookliift fW you a
week.” The fellow stared stupidly at the as
sailant. ■ lio evidently had not sense enough to
bo seared ; but as the bowio Ithifb Catno near
his face, one of his huge fists suddenly vacated
Iris pocket and fell hard and heavy between the
dandy’s 03’cs, and tho poor fellow was flounder
ing in tho Ohio. Greeny jumped on board our
boat, put his hands in his pockets and looked
around. “May bo,” said he, “there’s some
body else hero that’s been looking for mo n
week.”
Anus for a Statue.— Everybody bos seen
or heard of tho Venus of Milo—that wonderful
creation, which of itself is worth a whole muse
um. It will bo remembered tho statue is desti
tute of arms, and academicians, antiquaries,
and sculptors, have long been in dispute upon
their true position and movement, w nils I every
ortist has deplored their loss. It seems that
these arms have been recently found—not the
veritable originals belonging to this particular
statue, but a copy with tho arms in their right
place, which has just been exhumed from tho
trenches of Romo. The Venus of the Louvre is
nearly seven feet high. The copy just found is
of reduced size, being from four and a half to
five feet only. Tho Venus, it seems, has just
tritirophed over her rivals, MJnerVa and Juno,
with whom sho has disputed for the prize. One
of her arms, tho left, is elevated in the air, where
she holds the Apple which Paris has just given
her. Tho right is inclined downward, gather
ing and adjusting her raiment. Thus has tho
problem been solved, but where is tho artist
who dares chisel out the arm of the Venus of
MUo I—Boston Transcript.
Not Bap.—A leading actor, now deceased,
who had tho habit of Imbibing brandy and wa
ter, in proportion of one part of the latter to
about |our of tho former, visited Ruflalo not
lons since and was indulging largely in his ft
vonte weakness, to tho no small astonishment
of the bar-keeper, who had never seen such
chemical disproportion. Mr. — : —, who was
very thirsty after InH dusty ride in tho cars, re
maVked, ‘You keep very bad water her— ‘You
don't give It ■ chance, was tho rejoinder.
. An Attack' • .
Tho other’ nightW Mr. Smith—-not out wor
thy Mayor, but tho other Hr. Smith-7-was going
quietly along, having attended ,a meeting of , the
order of good fellows, and inode ft sderifleq or
two to tho spirit Osgood fellowship, be was,stop
ped at the comer of oho of ourprincipal thorough
fare s by seven strong black men with masks on,
who clutched him by tho collar, and with se
pulchral voice’ asked—“T’other or which 7—for
or against?” Ho was staggered dy tho abrupt
ness of tho questions and their vagueness, mad
did not answer, when each of the, ft
revolver of twelve barrels, and as largo, each o,f
them, as a large sized spruce boor hotljo, apd
each of them again demanded “For or against J
T’other or'which?” Every muzzle was direc
ted towards Mr. Smith's, and ho trembled with
anger not unmixed with fear. “What do you
mean 7” cried he, and the rovorhroto.buildings
in the deserted street cried. ‘‘What do you
mean?” Again tho questions came to him of
T’other or ? for or against?” and Smith
leaned against a building to support himself-
His mind became confused, tbo fotms beforo
him grew to bo .giants, each aiming a .twenty
four pounder at his head with ono hand, andin
tho other holding enormous harpoons with
which to impale him should ho not answer tho
question that seemed to thunder on.tho night
air. Madness seized upon him, and he cried
“T’other and for, and take it hot,'V white ft
friend round the corner echoed “Take it'-boll”
“Then receive your doom,” cried his besiegers*
and a sharp pain in tho region of -bis fifth rib
told him too plainly where tho harpoon entered.
He foil lifeless to tho earth., . ■' 'i -i’
Mr. Smith was somcwhatßurpriscdncatmora-
Ing to find himself in bed. The son was. up/
and ho thought ho would try and got np him
self and partake of a little breakfast. “Will
you help me, my dear,” said be to Mrs- Smith;
“to a slice of the toast ?” “T’other or which.??
asked she, smiling. Smith wna confused.—
“For or against—a piece of the steak-?” coni
tinned she. Smith was confounded. Ho. be
lieved ho must havn dreampt the scone at tho
street corner, and that tho “t’other or which**
was (ho result of a heated abolition temper, and
a generous moistening of rum punch.: Tho
sharp elbow of Mrs. Smith Corresponded .favor*
übly with the harpoon.— Boston Pott* >
IIIOUiLY I.VTEttESTIXO TO AQJIICDtTUIIISTS.
A correspondent of tho San Diego (Cal.) Herald
relates the following s’..
Conversing tho other day on tho effects pro
duced by different kinds of pasture on tho quan
tity and color of butter, an estimable and witty
friend of ours in San Diego, who has lately turn
ed bis attention to rural and agricultural-pur J
suits, mentioned a singular fact in exemplifica
tion, which occurred In ft churning of butter
from a cow belonging to his mother. In this
case tho butter was found to bo red, with green
stripes—and was traced to the circumstance of
the cow having chewed up, tho day before, a.
piece of carpet containing those colors. Tho
most remarkable feature of this incident was,
(hat the carpet was green, .with red- stripes,
while the Imftohw'ftß red, with green stripes.;—
Now, olthnugh I can readily believe this unu
sual color lor butter to be caused in tho manner
above stated, yet I find It very difficult 1 to' ac
count for tho arrangement of the colors, Inadifi
feront order from what wo find in (ho carpet.—
Thu only way I can explain it Is, by supposing
that tho cow In chawing her cud,tnlist liaVoso
ground tho colors together on her \palale.aH ac
cidentily to have changed thein, or else tho ag
itation of tho cream In churning may have mix
ed them up so as to materially disarrange'tho
whole matter and throw U into p». I wn aware,
that this theory Is not perfcttly satisfhetory, and
I shall bo gratified if any of our scientific read
ers will examine this subject and throw some
light upon it.” ' , . . ' ,
Facts About Guanc). beneficial ro-‘
suits from the use of guano, if nbt Mtyays tho
greatest, are at least always tho most observa
ble, when applied to poor, or worn-out softs—*
such as cannot be made to produce a remunera
ting crop by ordinary means. On such soils it
will often be found to pay to apply 200 or 300
lbs. of guano, ftt an, expense oi $5 or $O, when
guano costs $5O per ton. When applied to,
. soils in good condition, tho increase of crop la
, generally very striking indeed when the fcrUH
, zer is applied to lands greatly exhausted of
» their fertility. - - -
1 As tho fertilizing properties of guano arc. iq
I too concentrated a condition to be applied in an
I undiluted sfato to seeds or plants, it must bq
I diluted by being compound with some innocu
ous or inert substance. Dry leached ashes, or
saw-dust, or pulverized peat from ditches, will
answer tho purpose. Ono part or bulk of
guano may be mixed with five op six parts op
bulks of cither of these. Of this compound a
tablespoonful is sufficient for a hill of com or
other vegetable. —Country Gentleman;
* Mus. Partinotox on Japan*. — “What bert*
efit will Japan bo to us ?” said Mrs. Portingtfailj
os tho question fell on her auricular drutn froiti
the lips of tho doubter. Sho stood Btillattho
end of tho question, like a note of interrogation
and removed tho cover from her box; looking
intently at tho bufict in the comer where the tea
caddy was, and the China cups, and the little
plaster figure of a pflrot, with very green feath*
era and red eyes and yellow beak. ‘Look at
that.’said sho taking down the tea caddy as
she spoke; ‘I have had that caddy eight and
forty years, and where do you think it would
Iw now without Japan ? It would have been
no more like what it is how. than gypsum dark*
ness is like the noonday-suni Of course Japan
’ll lie a benefit!’ It was an unanswerable thing;
Tho doubter was abashed and reflectively cut»
notch in one of Mrs. Partington’s chairs. •
Custom. —Custom Is a harder task-master Uinn
even law. Law defines its course and openly
displays tho penalties which uny deviation Is
sure to provoke. Law broken and lls penalties
Indicted is a sum total, while custom has no
“ beatem track,” ami presents no reasons fbr its
, existence, although It demands a rigid compli
ance to its enactments. But deviated from, and
society la outraged, and law has no punishment
that will compare In severity with the frokn of
I society. It is no trifle, nor will it bo trifled
I with. Law is an institution both civil and po
litical, but custom Is a ruling intelligence, bo
longing to tho moral and fashionable world, and
hence Its potency.
[£/' Nine-Tenths of all tho ivory brought
directly to the United States comes from Zan
zibar in Africa to the port of Salem. It has
been conjectured that eventually, tho supply
would be stopped, on account of tno extinction
of tho elephant, but this wo are informed by
those conversant with,the Subject, is not proba
ble, largo quantities bcinfc brought from tho
unexplored mtcribr Of Africa by the traders On
the coast, of which ft part Is obtained from ani
mals who have died naturally; the elephant
being too largo game to be seriously added by
the weapons of stmigc.s.
Dkcidrdi.v Cool.—A gentlemen meeting one
of his friends who was insolvent, expressed
great concern for his embarrassment. ‘You
arc mistaken, my dear sir, 1 was tho reply; • ’tin
not I, 'tis my creditors whtt are embarrassed,.'
lO*An admirer of somcof our modern poets,
said to the learned Professor Person, about
fifty years ago, that Wordsworth and soipo
others of his.school, would bo read after Milton,
Dryden and Pope, were forgotten. ‘Yes,* re
plied tho professor, *6uf not before .'
Colored BiOotrt. —♦What have you to charge
against tho defendant?’ asked a lawyorof on
obony-hended witness.
‘Why, do nigger am bigoted,* was tho reply.
‘llo’a what ?*' J
‘Bigoted, bigoted—doos’nt yon know what
datomf*
‘Why, no, ropllod tho lawyer, who was much
of a wag s ‘will you deflno the term, Job V .
‘Sartalnly, aartainly I does. To bo bigoted*
a culled pusaon must know too much for 000
nigger and not enonfgh for two niggers.*
roan wimtricdTo fix up his coffbb
with tho milk of human kindness, says It ia ten
times weak ci' than tbo 'chalk and water dealt
out from cabs at Sty dents per quart. 1
A Tour Sating,-*' Tho klrongth and safety of
a pooplo Uo In their kno\V)odga of their right*,
and their union In defence of them I '*
*Mi(Sßnbk