AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. POBIJBHED EVEIIT riumSbAlf. MonNISO John it» Uratton. TERMS. Sdbsobip*io».— Ono Dollar and Fifty Cents, brld iTodVanco , Two. Dollars if paid within tho Scar* and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid within tho year. Thcso terms will bo rig idly adhered to in every instance. No subscrip tion discontinued until all arrearages arc paid unless at the option oi the Editor. Advertisements —Accompanied by the cash, and not exceeding one square, will bo inserted three times for one Dollar, and fwenty-flvo cents for each additional insertion. Those of a great er length iii proportion. JoD-PaiNTiNa—Such ns Hand-bills, Posting bills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c., &c., exe cuted with acenmry and at the shortest notice. |Miral, THE BOSE AM TAB LILY. The Sun stepped down from his golden throne And lay in tho silent sea, And tho Lily had folded her satin leaves, For a sleepy thing was she 5 Whal is Iho Lily dreaming of? Why crisp tho waters blue? 800, see I she is lifting her varnished lid, Her white leaves are glistening through. •The Rose Is cooling his burning cheek, In tho lap oi the breathless tide; Tho filly hath sisters both fresh and fair, That would lie by the Rose’s side 5 flu would love her better than all tho rest, And ho would.Ve fond and true ; but the Lily unfolded her Weary lids, And looked at the sky so bine. •‘Remember, remember then, silly one, How fast will thy Summer glide ! And wilt thou wither a virgin pale, Or flourish a blooming bride V* •‘O the Rose Is old, unrt thorny and cold. And lives on the earth,” said she 5 •< But (he Star Is fair, and he lives in the air, And he shall my bridegroom he.” »< But what if the stormy cloud shall come, And rufllo the silver sea ? Would bo then his oyu from the distant sky To smile on a thing like thee I O no, fair Lily, he will not hcik! One ray from his far-otT throne ; The winds shall blow, and the waves shall flow, And thou wilt be lull atone. •‘ There Is not a leaf on the mountain top, Nor a drop of evening dew, Nor a golden sand on the sparkling shore, Nor a pearl in the waters blue, That ho has not chcorcd with his fickle smile, And warmed with his faithless beam ( And will lie he true to a pallid flower That floats on u quiet stream f” Alas for the Lily! she would not heed, But turned to tho skies aftir, And bared her breast to the trembling ray That shot from tho rising star. Tho cloud cune over the darkened sky And over the waters wide ; She looked in vain through the boating rain, And sank In the stormy tide. Cjjnirc Cult From Gleason's Pictorial. THE DOUBLE ELOPEMENT BY IIOUATIO AIX3BU, Jit. ■ (In a large, square, old-fashioned house, such ♦a OUr forefathers used to Imihl when solidity was more sought after limn utility—lived Philip Munson and hU sister Esther. Philip hod reached the mature nge of forty, and Esther Was close to him. Still each had pursued a . Solitary pathway through life, seeking no com panionship save that of the other, till there was .'•reason to believe that they would continue to follow the same course till in the fullness of ‘time they were gathered into the family tomb •rrtho receptacle of many generations of the Hanson family. There was the more reason to’think .so. since they look care to commend ifa unmarried life, not only by example but by precept. •No,' Raid Philip, when assailed on this sub ject by & match-making lady, 'marrying may be very good for gome people, but 1 could not bear to have my habits broken in upon, and toy whole house turned topsyturvy by the in troduction of a wife.’ .•But by-ftnd by. when yon grow older, you trill feel the need of one more than at pres ent.' \ *No,’ said Philip, conclusively. '1 hove ft sis ter who i« devoted to mo, and while she lives I nped no other.' vAs for Miss Esther she often declares! that the never would make a slave of herself for any loan living. I f other women were foolish enough to.give up their independence, and lie themsel ves to a man for no earthly purpose than to burthen thenwlves with care and toil from • norning till nighl.shew&sHureßhehnd uoobjec 'tipp. For her own pnrt she was wiser, ller brother and she had always lived together passably and happily, and she did not think UMrtfthe could make any change for the bet- Wafc JQlpfiurßO. it was insinuated by those whose differed wisely from Miss Esther's,that iiVtMtaffting tins opinion, that she was only toftklflg pt virtue of necessity, and that it was 1 best; tto bo contented with one’s lot, provided there ..tots no chance of improving it. But Esther did not hear these remarks, and no was undisturbed by them. She continued to live in tho old house with her brother. They kept* no.domoslic, since Esther rather plumed herself upon her housekeeping duties, and there was little to do. So as her brother was usually absent during the day, she was left for the Qiost part to the companionship of her own thoughts, unless some neighbor chanced to call in—•[ilhing by the way. of rather rare occur rence, since most of the neighbors had large families of their own, which conllned them at home* . Earl; rone afternoon, just after Esther Man •on had completed her task of clearing away lics,I ics, and storing them away in the * a thorough washing, she was iring a rap at the door, urprised by a caller at this unit ) answered tho summons. She prehensive that it was a neigh flatc proved rather troublesome of borrowing articles and owing, . to a habitual forgetfulness, nc urn them. unused to herself,‘that if it is ho will want to borough some ot got. b the door, but no Mrs. Bailey pro nto her expecting gaze-/ gen* tec™*- -V. elegantly ODWgyp* pardon f„ r i n l ru ,ii n „ m . d . m . «»14 ho, «>1» noticed Esther's look ormnriTO hot can yon d rect mo to the house nr ’ Mr. Witol t have heart it ” m f‘ h ° *s‘° *"?■ < ’ dlEcri P lio1 ' I have of it. jud E o'it will ?ull toe. J *» w u •It Uuw'noxt house on the left, sir ’ an swered flatbed who had litno while tho gonllc wkn was'sneaking, to examine his appearance* which did tiot foil to impress her favorably. ' •Thank you for tho information. I trust you will jirfrdoh tho troublo I have occasioned you,* replied tho gentleman, bowing. •Not tholoaift troublo in tho world,’replied . Ealbcih ft little guttered by a deference to which she had not beert accustomed. Two'days after, Esther hoard that Mr. Well float's estate had been purchased by a stranger, naihb<tßigelo'?v. Stic at once conjectured, and rightly, that, this was the same with her visitor. Ajfw/oiya'elapsed, and Esther Manaon re ceived another visit from the same gentleman. *1 hivAVfkvor to ask of von, Miss Manaon,’ he commenced, (it seems he had ascertained BY JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL 41. her name.) I am aware that our slight ac quaintance will hardly justify it; but I trust time will remove this objection. ‘You must know,* ho added, smilingly, ’that T am a bach elor,dependent in many respects upon my house keeper, who, though a good woman in her way, ,1 am afraid is not reliable in her matters of \asto. As my furniture has arrived, but has not yet been arranged,*l would esteem it a real service, if you would give me your opinion in some little matters respecting its proper dispo sition. My carriage is at the door ready to carry you over.’ •But,’said Esther, a little hesitatingly, *1 do not claim to have much taste. 1 fear that I should prove no more reliable in that respect than your housekeeper. ‘I hove but to look around me. 1 said Mr. Bigelow, politely, ‘to be fully satisfied upon that point.’ Esther’s check flushed with pleasure at this compliment, and she made preparations to com ply with her new visitor's request. It was not without a little consciousness of the singularity of hc»* position, that Esther found herself riding by (he side of a gentleman with whom she hod scarcely exchanged half a dozen of words in the course of her life. The distance, however was but short, and she had little time for reflection. On arriving at her place of destination, she found the chief part of the business accomplished. The furniture, which, hy the way, was now and handsome, had been arranged In the rooms of fashion, but Esther was able to point out .several changes lor the bettor, with nil of which Mr. Bigelow professed himself delighted ; be. moreover, ask ed her advice ns to the proper place in which to hang several fine pictures that ho had picked up in the course of his Eurooan travels. This was accorded with some hesitation. Mr. Bigelow would not be satisfied without showing his new found acquaintance nil over the house, from kitchen to garret. When all was completed, he overpowered her with pro testations of gratitude for her kind ser vice, and landed her at her own door, just five minutes before her brother came in. Esther was rather glad of this, as she was a hide sus picious that her brother would consider her ad* venture rather a Quixotic one. To avoid comment, she did not even inform Philip that she had ever met Mr. Bigelow. # Ho took frequent opportunities to call upon her,on some slight pretext but it alwavs chanced to bo at the time when her brother was absent. *1 wonder,’ said Philip, careless!v. as he sat by the fire one evening, ‘whether Mr. Bigelow will not be looking out for n wife before long.’ 'I —1 don’t know.’ said Esther in her embar rassment, dropping half a dozen sllches from the stocking which she held in her hand. •Not that I approve of marriage—at least, in my own case,’said Philip, noticing this Mule demonstration,‘but it may different with Mr. Bigelow. He has no sister to superintend his establishment. I don’t know however, wheth er there is anybody likely to suit him in this village. Ijct me sec—there is Miss Preston; she might do. "No, I don’t think she would suit him at nil!’ said Esther, with a spirit which considerably surprised her brother. ‘She knows but very little about housekeeping.’ •Why I thought 3*oll and Miss Preston were friends, said Philip, a little puzzled. ‘Well, so wo are.’ returned Esther Ip her usual tone, ‘but I—l hardly think she would suit Mr. Bigelow.* •Perhaps not.’ he rejoined, and so tho con versation ended. Meanwhile the gentleman continued his vis its. Oft-times he would ask to see the bed of flowers on which Esther rather prided herself, and souieimic-s lie would petition for smls. be ing very fund of flowers, ns he said, and very anxious to introduce them into bis own gar den. One one of these occasions. Mr Bigelow, af ter n little visible embarrassment, said hesita tingly : ‘f would like to'ask your advice, MissEsth or, on rather a delicate subject, and one of. great importance to myself. There is one thing I wish to secure to make my establishment complete, but I hardly know in what manner to ask for it.’ •What is it you refer to ?’ asked Esther, Un suspiciously. •A wife.’ was the significant reply.’ Instantly a deep crimson flushed Esther’s cheeks. She did not trust herself to apeak. •Need 1 say that yon arc the one whom of all others I would seek to place in that position ?* lie took her unresisting hand and kissed it With the gallantry Of a young lover. ‘But what will my brother Ray ?’ inquired Esther, when she found voice to speak. ‘What should lie say ? Vou are your own mistress surely.’ •Yes, but he is always ridiculing the idea of marriage, and I couldn't venture to tell him.’ ■No need of it. loot’s run away to New York and get married. You know.’ ho added gaily. Mveare both young ami romantic, and It would be quite in character. Esther at first objected, hut when she camo to consider that in this way she would be re lieved of the great portion of the embarrass ment which such a step would naturally bring with it. she consented, and that day one week was appointed for the departure. She required ibis lime to make preparations. Meanwhile, if Esther had not been so exclu sively occupied with her own affairs, she might have noticed (Iml a change had come over Philip. He was often absent evenings, and when at home was more silent and absrtnclcd than his wont. The former she readily attribu ted to the cause winch he assigned, namely, a pressure of business. Tho latter she did not observe, her mind being pre-occupicd. V£o, who arc in the secret, may take tho liberty of following him on one of his business calls. It was at a neat cottage, from whoso front door dangled an immense knocker, that Philip Man son knocked. The door was opened by tho name Miss Preston who, some months before, he thought “might do” for Mr. Bigelow. ‘Good evening, Maria,’ was his salutation as he entered. After a brief conversation about the weather, the crops and other standard to pics, which however trivial they may seem, could hardly bo dispensed with, he began to show signs of embarrassment, and finally ejac ulated : ‘Mario—Miss Preston—l mean Maria, what arc your opinions obout marriage ?’ •Why, * said she, ‘I hardly know. I—l don’t think I have given much consideration to the subject.’ ‘Because,’ continued Philip, ‘I flnd'my opinions have sudered a great change on this point. There was a time when I thought it unwise, hut now if I could get a good in/e, such as you, for example, I should bo inclined to try it.’. 'Oh, lor, Mr. Manaon,’ said Miss Preston, in some pcrtuballon. 'how you talk !’ * 'lf 7 !n 1 utcB forwards Miss Preston had “ p ‘“‘fPreixawl °f Wiilip, and tho two were to all intents and purposes, engaged. r' y tWng I f l,ln , k ° f '' B»Id tllO gentla mnn, after a pause, that my sister Esther is s^ oc ; d lfr m y. to .r ni ' irrl ”s™. «»<i i waiy dare to tdl her that lam about to marry If wo only go away ami have tho ceremony per formed, it would bo pleasanter.' J * ’Suppose wo go to Now York,* suggested the bride-elect. ‘A good idea. We’ll go. When can you be ready ?* ‘Next Monday morning.’ So next Monday morning was agreed upon. It so happened that# Esther was to start on Monday afternoon for the same place, with the same purpose in view—but of this coincidence neither party was aware. The reader will plc*ase go forward a week.— By t thrs time the parties havereached New York, been united in the holy bonds of matrimony, and arc now legally husband and wife. They arc located at hotels situated on the same street, and even on the same side of the way, but were far from being aware of tho propinquity. On the morning succeeding the two marriages, for by a singular chance they happened on the same day, Mr. Bigelow and Esther started out for a walk down street. It so happened that Philip and his wift wore at the same moment walking up street. Tho natural consequence was that the two parties met. •Good Heavens 1 my sister!’ exclaimed Philip. ‘Merciful goodness ! my brother!’ returned Esther. •What brings you here with Mr. Bigelow ?’ •Nay, how happens it that you are here with Miss Preston ?’ 'Miss Preston is note my wife! ’ ‘Mr. Bigelow is my husomui ! ’ ‘But I thought you were opposed to matri mony.' ‘And t supposed you were equally so.* *My friends,’ interposed Mr. Bigelow, ‘thisis a day of surprise—but I trust of such o nature that we shall all be made the happier thereby. My regret Mr. Manson, of robbing you of your housekeeper is quite dissipated by the knowl edge that you have so soon supplied her place.’ The sensation excited in the village by the return of the two brides with their respective husbands may he belter imagined than de-. scribed. It gives us pleasure to state that neither Philip nor his sister ever had occasion to regret Tub Double Elopement. Grumblers. Then? are a great many people who are al ways grumbling at their lot, and darkening by their complaints, the really pleasant places of life. Fnr such persons we have no sympathy whatever; we can only regard them with con tempt. They are cancers on the body politic, eating away its substance and vitality ; and , whatever ills they may suffer, they are almost all superinduced by their own misanthropy. No man who aspires to serve and improve his fellows, can be a grumbler. He will remember 1 that, dark os it may bo immediately around ! him, -somewhere his sunshine warms the ! world.’ and with this inspiration of charily) upon him, he will not. cannot by idlemunnur iugs. darken the gleam of sunshine that ema nates from his life. Would that nil men would learn this sweet philosophy, that ‘no star goes down but climbs in other skies,’ fpr then would hope brighten continually ‘the dumb waste places of the dark,* and life wear, as it should, a continual radiance— Lit by its own true light, within the heart, Like u live diamond burning in (ho night,’ There is no good reason slKmld. thus go grumbling on his way—no reason why he shonld put aside the folds of sweet sunshine that fall around him, and dwell continually in the realms of shadow. Life has its dark placos, it is true—it has its troubles and cares; but they ore interspersed among spots of green,and some holy joy treads in the footsteps of each irampi n woe. Bather, then, than repine, men should pi cas bravely on amid all difficulties, remembering that even ‘life’s bitlcrcs waters run through some sands of gold,’ and that however foul may be the cup presented to tho lips, it may conceal a ptarl within its turbid depths. ‘The deepest dark reveals the starriest hope, And fnlth can (rust her heaven behind (ho worst.’ The Biter Bit.— Upon a certain occasion a man culled upon nn old quakur with n due-bill fur twamty dollars against an estate he bad been appointed to nettle. Friend Hopper put it away, saying ho would attend to it us soon as he had leisure. Thu man called again a short I time after, and stated that ho had need of six 1 dollars, and was willing to give a receipt for tho whole, if that sum was advanced. This pro; a. Hition excited suspicion, and the administrator decided in his own mind that ho would pay I nothing till he had examined the papers of the I deceased. Searching carefully among these, 1 he found a receipt for tho money, mentioning | the Identical items, date, and circumstances of’ (lie transaction, and stating that a due bit) had been given and lost; and was to bo restored by the creditor when found. When tho man called again, Hopper said to him in n quiet way— “ Friend Jones, I understand thou Last be come pious lately.” Ho replied, In a solemn tone i “ Yea, thanks to the Lord, i have found out tho way to salvation.” “ And thou hast been dipped, I hear,” con fined the Quaker. “ Dost thou know James Holden i Mr. Jonos answered in tho affirmative. “ Well, ho also was dipped some time ago,” rejoined Friend Hopper, “but the neighbors say they didn’t gel tho crown of fils head under water. Tho devil crept into the unbaptized part, and bus been busy with him over since.— I am afraid (hoy didn't gvt lute quite under wa ter. I think thou had'at better be dipped ogaln.” As he spoke ha held up (lie receipt for twen ty dollars. The countenance of the professed fiioua man became scarlet, and he disappeared nstanlly. Si«pi.icitt of Dness.—Prentice, the editor of tho Louisville Journal, speaks thus to his rea ders t “Those who think that, In order to dross wolf It is necessary to dress extravagantly and gnndl. ly, make a groat mistake. Nothing so wolf be comes true feminine beauty as simplicity, Wo have soon many a remarkable lino person robbed of Us fine effect by being over dressed. Noth- Ing Is more unbecoming than overloaded beau ty. Tho simplicity of tho classic tasto Is soon In old statues and pictures painted by men of very superior artistic genius. In Athens, tho ladles were not guadily, but simply arrayed, and wo doubt whether any ladles over excited more admiration. So also tho noble old Roman ma trons, whoso superb forms were gazed on de lightedly by men worthy of them, wore always very plainly dressed. Fashion often presents tho linos o( tho butterfly, but fashion is not a classic goddess.” [C7* Quite a joko happened to ono of the doc tors the other day. Tie ordered some powerful medioinb for a sick boy. and the father not lik ing (.lie appearance of it, forced it down tho cat’s throat, and when tho dootor called again and inquired if (iio powder had cured tho boy, tho father replied: •No, wo did not give it to him. ’ •Good Heavens ! r exclaimed tho doctor, 'is tho child llvingl’ ‘Yea,' answered the father, ‘but the old cat isn’t, wo gave it to her.’ The doctor sloped- “OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BB lUOHT —BCT RIGHT OU WRONG, OUR COUNTRY." CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL .20,1855 WHERE ABE they; Where, where are all the birds that sang A hundred years ago ? The flowers that oil In beauty sprang A hundred years ago 7 The Hps that smiled, The eyes that wild In flashes shown Soft eyes upon t Where, 01 where are bps and eyes, The maiden’s smiles, the lover's sighs, That lived so long ago/ Who peopled all the city streets A hundred years ogo f Who filled the church, with faces meek, A hundred ycart ago ? Tho sneering tale Of sister frail; The plot A brother’s hurt Whore, 0! where oro plots and sneers, The poor man’s hopes, tfio rich man’s fears, That lived so long ago? ANXIETIES OF THE SAILOR’S LIFE. DT REV. MR. ABBOT, OF NANTUCKET. A few days ago a man was speaking to me of I the emotions with which he was''overwhelmed when ho bade adieu to his family on his last voyage. The ship in which ho was to sail was at Edgartown, on Martha’s Vineyard. The Sacket was at the warf which was to convey im from Nantneket to the ship,. Ho went down in the morning and saw all his private sea-stores packed away in the sloop, and then relumed to his home, to take leave of his wife and children. His wife was sitting at the fire side, struggling in vain to restrain ncr tears.— She had an infant, a few months o’d. in her arms,and with her foot was rocking the cradle, in which lay anotherlittlc daughter about throe years of age. with her checks flushed with a burning fever. No pen can describe the an guish of such a parting. It is almost like the the bitterness of death. The departing father imprinted a klssupon the check of bis child.— Four years will pass away ere he will again take that child in his aims. Leaving his wife i sobbing in anguish,.he closes the door of his house behind him. Four years must elapse cro ho crosses that threshold again. A lady said to me, a few evenings ago, ‘I have been married eleven years, and counting all the days my husband has been at home since our marriage, it amounts to ,but three hundred and sixty days. -Ho is uow absent, having been gone fifteen months; and two months and two years must undoubtedly elapse before I can see his face again; and when he does return, it will be merely a visit to his family*for a few months, when ho will again bid them adieu for another four years’ ab. sence. ’ 1 1 asked the lady, the other day, how many , letters she wrote to her husband during his lost voyage. 'One hundred,’ was tUe answer. ! |And how many did he receive?’ 'Six.* The inevitable ruh* is lo write by crery ship that leaves this port, or New Bedford, or any oth er port that may bo heard of, for the Pacific Ocean. And yet the chances are very-small that any two ships will meet on this.boundlcss expanse. It sometimes happens tli»t. a shin .Ifit.uojg. when, th.p<|o on bnni*l havo »not JicarA one word from their families during the whole period of their absence. Imagine, then, the feelings of a husband and father who returns lo the harbor of Nantucket after the separation i of forty-eight months, during .which lime he! has heard no tidings whatever from his homo.) lie sees the boat pushing oft' from the wharves i which is-to bring him the tidings of weal or woo. Palo and trembling, he paces the deck with emotions which lie in vain endeavors to conceal. A friend in the boat greets him with a smile, and says, ‘Captain, your family arc all well.’ Or, perhaps, he says, ‘Captain. I; have heavy news for you—your wife died two years and a half ago.’ A young man left this island Inst summer, leaving in hijt quid hpme a young and beauti ful wife and infant child. The wife and child arc both now in the grave. But the husband ' knows not, and probably will not know of it J for some months to come. He. perhaps, falls asleep every night, thinking of the loved ones I left at hts fireside, little imagining that they I arc both cold in death. On a bright summer afternoon the telegraph announces that a Cope Horn ship has appeared in the horizon, and immediately the stars and stripes of onr national banner are unfurled | from our flag-staff, sending a wave of emotion | through the town. Jinny families are hoping I it is the ship in which their friends arc to return, I and all aro hoping for tidings from the absent. , Soon tho name of tho ship is announced ; and then there is on eager contention with tho boys to bo tho first bearer of tho joyful tidings to tho wife of tho captain: for which service a silver dollar is tho established and invariable foe. Who can describe tho feelings which must then agitate tho bosom of tho wife ? Perhaps she baa heard no tidings of the ship for more than a year. Trembling with excitement, she dresses herself to meet her husband. ‘ls ho alive?’ she says to herself, 'or am I a widow, and tho poor children orphans?’ She walks about the room, unable to compose herself suf ficiently to sit down: eagerly is she looking out of the window and down the street. She 1 secs a man,with hurried steps turn a corner, i and a little boy hold of Wanand. Yes.it is i he. And her little son has gonodotvh to the boat and found his father. Or, perhaps, in stead of this, she sees two of her neighbors re turning slowly and sadly, and directing their steps to her door. The blood flows Back upon her heart. They ran at tho door. It is the knell of her husband's death. And she falls senseless to tho floor, as they tell her that her husband has long since been entomed in tho fathomless ocean. This is not fiction. These arc not extreme coses which tho imagination creates. They arc facta of continual occurrence: facts which awaken emotions to which no pen can do jus tice. A few weeks ago a ship returned to tin's Isl and bringing the news of another ship that was nearly filled with oil, that all were well, and that she might bo expected in a neighbor ing port in such a month. The wife of the captain resided in Nantucket, and early in the month, with a heart throbbing with affection and hope, she went to greet her husband on his return. At length the ship appcarcd.drop ped her anchor in the harbor, and the friends of the ladv went to the ship to escort the hus band to the wife from whom ho had been so long separated. Soon they sadly returned with tho tidings that her husband had been seized with tho cost fever upon the island of Madagascar, and when about a week out, on his return homo, ho died and was committed to his ocean burial. A few days after, I called upon the weeping widow and littlo daughter in their homo of bereavement and anguish. (D* A friend relates tho following A mile or two from town ho met a boy on horseback, crying with the cold. Why dont you get down and lead him? that's tho way to keep warm.* ‘No,’said tho boy,‘lt’s a hired boss ami I’ll ride him if I freeze.’ iiliitet FORMAL INVITATIONS. The too frequent habit of extending tnerefoK tnal invitations is justly rebuked in the follow ing story of Vivier, tho artist, which we find amongst the Parisian gossip of the ‘Musical World:’ Vivier, the celebrated and witty artist, pas* sed recently some time in Paris, on his return from his summer travels. He had hardly ar* rived, when ho was invited to dine with Monsieur ——tho musical amateur and rich capitalist. After the repast, tho master and mistress of tho house said to their agreea ble guest, ‘We hope that we shall have you oft en to dine with us; your plate shall always bo ready.’ ‘Always !’ said Vivier; ‘that is, in the fash ionahls sense of the word.’ ‘By no means. We are not persons of such hollow politeness. Yon know how much we love artists, and you in particular. Our homo is yours. Como and dine with ns whenever you please. We should be glad if it were eve ry day.’ ‘ln earnest?* ‘Certainly, we should be delighted.' ‘Ah. well: since then you are cordial. I prom so yru I will do my best to bo agreeable.’ •We shall depend upon seeing you.’ The next day at six o’clock the Vivicr pre sented himself. 'You see.’ said he. 'that I have token your invitation literally. I have come to dine.’ 'Ah! it is very kind of you: it is very char ming,’ said his host, to whom his arrival seem ed very piquant and quite original. The dinner was very gay and Iho artist, on taking leave, received many compliments. The next dav. as they were about to sit down to the table, Yivicr again appeared •Here I amrcxact, punctual, and faithful to my promise-’ ‘But it is singular,’ he continued, after a pause, fixing a penetrating and quizzical look upon the faces of his hosts—‘it is singular!— you appear surprised ! Did you not expect me?’ ‘Oh, certainly, you give us much pleasure,' the Anphitrj’on and his wife replied, with a forced smile. ‘So much the better.’ Vivicr sat down, was in his happiest vein, played the agreeable to ail the family, and seemed quite unconscious that he had all the burthen of the entertaining, and that except a few monosyllables, the conversation was re duced to a mere monologue. On the fourth day at six o’clock precisely, the obstinate quest *oncc more presents! him self. This time coldness and restraint were very perceptible, and Vivicr spoke of it. The mistress of the house replied stiffly. 'lt is only because we feared you would not fare well, we have so poor a dinner to-day.’ •I thought you expected me—but it is of no consequence. lam not difficult. I wish only the pleasure of your society.’ ‘Ho seated himself with perfect composure, cat heartily, and then turning to madamcwilh a complementary air. he said : ‘What could you mean? Thin dinner is quite as good as the others. Fjxccllcnt fare! upon tny word. I should desire nothing bet ter. ’ . Tbc-DexJn.y—i t_jyos the fifth—Viyicr nr rtred as usual. The porter met him at the door, , I •Monsieur X Is not at home. Ho dines down town to-day.’ ‘All. very well. But T forgot my great coat yesterday—l must ask the servant for it and darling across the threshold and up to the stair case. he knocked. The door was opened unsuspectingly ; Mon sieur and Madame stood confounded at the un expected aparition. ‘Your porter is a simpleton.' said Vivicr. gaily. ‘He pretended that you had gone out. I knew he was mistaken. But what long fa ces ! What a sombre and melancholy air ! Has anything happened? Any accident, any misfortune? Tell me, that I may offer my sympathies.’ At dinner time the witty artist continued and redoubled his mtrentirs that tho supposed misfortune might be confided to him. He com plained of their reserve, and indulged himself in all sorts of conjectures and questions. 'Have you lost money in speculations? miss o«l nn inheritance? heard bad music? received a visit from some troublesome bore? Have you been wounded in vour affections? in your for tunes? in your ambition?' Then, at the desert, bursting into a fit of laughter— ‘l know what is the matter,and what trouble < you. It is your invitation, so cordially made, and so littcrnlly accepted. I thought that yon would not endure me long. To-day shut the door against me, to-morrow, if T should re turn. you would throw mo out of tho window. Hut you wilt not catch me hero. I wish you good evening.’ A TmuuiiHQ Paragraph.—l well remom mcr, says the Charleston Courier, tho Captain of the Moselle, which exploded at Cincinnati some years ago, who was at the time I speak of. commanding another boat trading from Cincinnati to New Orleans. We were followed by another boat, from whoso chimneys rushed gigantic columns of thick black smoko, show, ing that she was urging her speed by burning rosin—a very common device in such eases on our Western rivers. Our Captain went foam | ing and swearing thro’ the boat in a tromcn j dous excitement. An old lady, a cabin pas- I senger, went to him and begged him to go J more slowly. All waited what he would say. I shall never forget his answer; ‘Madam.’said lie. swearing a horrible oath, ‘if I knew overv soul on board would bo blown to hell. I would not suffer that boat to pass mo I* Ho did not sutler it. and his impious blasphemy was for that time permitted to go unpunished. A few months afterwards, however, ho commanded tho Moselle, and when tho terrific explosion of that boat took place, it was caused, as was as sorted, by tho Captain’s leaning his weight ■against the safety valvo. and declaring ttiat ho would not loose an Inch of steam—ho, poor wretch, was blown a hundred feet thro’the air, and his head forced up to tho shoulders, through the roof of a shed standing near tho warf, A friend from tho country tolling Foot® of an expensive funeral of an attorney, the wit replied: ‘Do you bury your attorneys!’ ‘Yes, to bo sure we do, how else?’ ‘6h! we never do that in London.' ‘No!’ said tho other, much surprised; ‘how do you manage?' •When tho patient happens to die. wo lav him out in a room over night by himself, lock tho door, throw' open tho sash, and in tho morning he is entirely off.* ‘lndeed!' said the other, in amazement,what becomes of them? 1 ‘Why, that wo’ cannot exactly tell; all wo know is. there's a strong smell of brimstone in tho room tho next morning.’ O** When a woman talks about her virtue, or a man about his courage, it is easy to guess that tho existence of those qualities is some what doubtful. AT 32,00 PKR ANNUM, NO, 46. Prejudice. All men are apt to have a high conceit of their own understanding, and to be tenacious of the opinions they profess: and yet almost all men are guided by the understanding of oth ers, not by their own: and may be said more truly to adopt, than to beget, their opinions. Nurses, parents, pedagogue custom, fill the mind with notions which it has no share in framing: which it receives as passively as it receives the impressions of outward objects ; and which, left to itself, it would never have framed, perhaps, or would have examined af terwards. Thus prejudices arc established by education, and habits by custom. We arc taught to think what others think, not how to think for ourselves; and whilst the memory is loaded, the understanding remains unexcrciscd, or exercised in such trammels oa constrain its notions, and direct its peace, till that which was artificial becomes in some sort natural,and the mind can go no other. It may sound odd ly, but it is true, in many cases, to say .that if men had learned less, their way to knowledge would be shorter and easier. It is indeed short er and easier to proceed from ignorance to knowledge than from error. They who are in the last, must unlearn, before they can Iram to any good purpose; and the first part of this double task is not, in many respects, the least difficult, for which reason it is seldom underta ken. Tempernnee Story. One evening, last week we took our place at the supper table of a Cincinnati and Louisville packet. An animated conversation was going on between a somewhat ancient lady and a so bcr-faced male companion, on the subject of temperance. ‘0 !’ she exclaimed, with horror depicted on her thin lips, ‘I do despise the whiskey drink er.’ The gentleman dropped his knife and fork, seized her hand*, and giving it a hearty shako, we thought tears were going to drop from his twinkling eyes. ‘Madam, said he, 'I respect your sentiments and the heart that dictated them. I permit no person to go beyond mein despingtho whiskey drinker. I have been disgusted on this very boat, and I say it now bcfarc our worthy Cap ' tain's face, what, I ask you.can bo more dis | gusling than to see well dressed, aye, virtuous looking young men, whose moth ers are probably oven now praying that the der instruction by which their youth illumina ted may bring forth precious fruits in their maturity—l say. to see young men step up tO' the bar of this boat and without fear of observ ing eyes, or the condemnation on enlightened opinion.brazenly ask forold Bourdon or Rye, or Monongahala whiskey, when in that very bar they know there is the very best of Old Cog mac Brandy V—Onedia Sachem. “ Overwork ot tlie Brain." Mr. John Marshall, writing to the T/mdon Spool alor, on over*work of the brain, says that had the Brat symtoms of this direful malady winch carried Scott. Pitt, Casllcrcagh, Moore, Tytler, Romi'lly, Latnan Blanchard, Wilson, Robert Hall, and, in a great measure 4 ,'- Burns, (Byron, Campbell, Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Ilaydon, and ft host of others distinguished in merotemw m Mivncucin.pbllttcs, find in art, to < a premature grave—been promptly attended to,* many of these illustrious men might have been yet spared to us. Brain-work is vastly more exhausting than is generally supposed. Brain-work is hko the burning of a lamp with a largo wick, by which the oil—vitality—is rapidly consumed, while in physical labor, in the open air, w<Aonstanl ly acid to our vitality by imbibing an abun dance of (rush air, and expend it more slowly, through the muscles. Whereas the brain worker isusuftlly'closcUd.'and generally works hv gas or candle light, which aggravates the difficulty. The great increase of insanity in our country may be attributed to excessive brainVork—to an over-active ivivous temperament, some tunes caused by artificial stimulants. Tea. ctdee, tobacco, wines, liquors, opium, and drug | mcdicinccs, all tend directly to excite and ex- . huisl the nervous system. Parents commit a I fatal error in pressing young children to hard | study and confinement to illy ventilated school ho: s -s. A puny, delicate, sensitive precocious race is the penalty for thus violating Nature’s liws. When will people study themselves— the laws which govern life and health—Physi ology, Phrenology and Pyschology—body and mi id—Humanity, Man* ? \ Amrrican Phrenological Journo/. Tffß BnocK.v Bridge. —An Irish nobleman, on a journey, was informed that his way lay over a ruined bridge, which ho would he obliged to pass at night. lie ordered his postillion to call him when they reached the dangerous plaeo; then, wrap ping himself up in his cloak, went to sleep When they reached the bridge the postillion called, but as his master did not awake, he drovoon. and passed safely over. Some time after, the traveller awoke and called out— •How is this, John, have you passed the bro ken bridge?’ •Yes. your honor.' ‘Why did you not wake me, as I ordered ju to do?’ *1 did not like to disturb your honor.' ‘Upon my honor.’ said the nobleman, ‘lf we had all fallen in the water and been drowned. I would have put a bullet through your head !' •By nil iho martyrs, if you had,’ cried the postillion, 'I would have left your service the next minute, if I had starved.’ Burial op a Sinoular Character. —The Auburn (N. Y.) Advertiser, mentions the death at Weedsport, Cayuga county, on the 2f»th ult., of one Harmon Wcodon, aged 80. Ho had acquired a handsome competency, and many years ago made all his arrangements for his burial, lie constructed for himself a stone coffin, of the Cayuga limestone, well finished, tho cover resting over the sides in a rabbetted shoulder, and bolted together with six half-inch bolts, running thro’ from top to bottom, and secured with counter sunk nuts. Ho request* ed to bo buried in that, with ‘his cloak wrap* ped around him,' and no minister was allowed to como near him. His coffin weighed ono thousand five hundred pounds, and ho gave particular directions how to lower him into Iho grave. All hia directions were explicitly fol lowed,‘and by his directions tho coffin was. not only bolted, but cemented together, so as to bo water tight. Novel. Rcuoioub Movement.—Qerrit Smith, Berriah Green, and a few Other spirits of that order have lately been holding a meeting of several days at Oswego. N. Y., to adopt mea aurcs to break up all old religious denomina tions and organizations, and build up a now system of their own to Uko tho place of. every other. They hold that all sectarianism is wrong, that there should ho but ono universal church, and that honesty should bo tho only test re quired to entitle a person to tho rights of mem- I bership, and so on.- Poughkeepsie Eagle. Signs of a norm’s Tumpth ' f Tiib Eab.—The size; position and molioif of the cats ofa horse are important point*. Tbosv rather small than large, placed not too ftp apart, erect, and quiet in motion. Indicate both breeding and spirit; and i£a horse is Jo the frequent habit of carrying one ear. forward and the other backward, and especially if he does so on a.journey, ho will generally possess both spirit and endurance. The stretching of the cars in contrary directions shows that bo is at* - tentivo to everything that is passing around, him, and while hois doing this ho-cannot bo much fatigued, nor likely soon to become 80.,, It has been remarked, that few horses sleep without pointing ono ear forward and one back ward in order Chat they may receive notice -of the approach of objcctsinony direction.* When horses or mules march in company at night, those in front direct their ms forward ;,aud those in (he middle of the train tarn them lat terally, thus seeming to bo actuated by one feeling, which watches their general safety. The car of the horse is one of the most beau tiful parts about him, and by this is the tem per moro safely indicated. The car is. more in telligible even thaiuthoeyc; and a person ac customed to the horse, con tell, by the otprea sire motion of the organ, almost all tbat ho thinks or means. When a horse lays bis -'Cars flat on his neck, ho most assuredly, means mis chief, and bystanders shonld beware of bis heels or feet- In play the cars will bo laid bock'/but ' not so decidedly nor so lon£. A quick change in their position, and more particularly the ex pression of the oye at the time will distinguish between playfulness and vice. The hearing of the horso is remarkably acute. A thousand vibrations of the air, too slight, to make impression in the human car, are readily perceivea by him. It is well known to every bunting man* that the cry of hounds will bo recognized by the horse, and bis cais will be erect, ond ho will bo all spirit and impatience* a considerable timo before the rider is conscious of the least sound. —The Horse and the Rider* A SenpOLUARTEa Aonoxn with Man's VTive. —One day lost week, ft woman named Sclser eloped from her husband's resi dence In Morgan township, Butler county, Ohio, with a y<[ung schoolmaster named Pease, who had been teaching during the winter in the vi cinity, and boarded at Sulser's house. The infatuated woman had lived happily with hef husband for near twenty years, and was by him I the mother of seven interesting children. She took with her her youngest child, an infant (leaving six with her husband), and about five thousand dollars in cash and negotiable notes* She was the daughter of a wealthy old termer, who died about a year ago, leaving a very hand-- somo property to her. The notvs which shfl'- took with her were given by tho purchaser of a portion ot the land Inherited from her tether, and wore drawn in favor oflior and her husband* On tho day attor her Bight, ono of her brothers, who was sick In bor house, died, and it Is pro , stmicd that (he sudden and strange disappear*, ance ot his slater may have given luo shock that proved fatal. The husband of the guilty fugitive was in th’d . city yesterday, searching for a duo to.tho whereabouts of tho wretched pair who have rob-, bed him of his peace. He is alyiost crazed with, grid, indignation and shame, and is of opinion that tho flight has been in tho direction of New York. Itia feared that Pcasp bad some of tho notes cashed in this city, but the fact has bet been ascertained. This is one of tho most re markable cases of elopement of which wo havo heard. It seems wholly unaccountable, yet • • the human heart Is deceitful above all thlbgs and desperately wicked.” At borne she was in very comfortable clrcuxnstonces. Her husband had Just finished a commodious and elegant boW house, and the eldest of her children was ft daughter fourteen years of age. A more inter esting and apparently happy family than the ono now dishonored and broken was, a fortnight ago, would bo bard to find.—Ctnn. Commercial* Hear Benjamin Franklin. —lt Is an nnfbf* tunato circumstance, for Know Nothtnglsra, that tho testimony of tho fathers of tho republic is all against it. To that already published, wo add the opinion of Benjamin Franklin. During the discussion attending tho formation of tho Constitution, bo said t “Ha should be sorry toseo anything liko il-. liberality Inserted in the Constitution. Tho ptoph in Europe are friendly to this country.— Even in the countries with which We have lately - been at war, wo have now, and had during tho ■ war, a great many friends, not only among IhO people at large, but in both houses of Farlia* moot. In every other country In Europe all the people arc our friends. Wo found in*tho course of tho revolution, that many strangers served us faithfully, and that many natter* took part against fhtir country. When foreigners after looking about for aotno other country Jn which (hey can obtain more happiness, giro ft preference to onrn, It la a proof of attachment which ought to excite our confidence and affec tion.” Health is Wealth.—A strong and sound body—a body capable of not only endurance, but capable of resisting external influences to disease—is a capital for life, the value of which cannot be computed in money. It is perpetual wealth—it Is perpetual pecuniary independence -—it is perpetual ability to aid others in tho kind ofllccs of friendship and love—a perpetu* al source of contentment and happiness. This , I fay tf the first object of school educationist any education fit to be called education; whilo the fact that it is made neither the first norths last, in our present system, proves that thd present system is false. A HEARTFELT SkNTIMENT iNOPPORTUNJiLIf Expressed.—A large and brilliant party was given in a fashionable circle a few weeks slhce, not a hundred miles from our metropolis, and the festivities were kept up to so late an hour that the fair hostess became completely wearied out. Some fifteen minutes after the lady sup posed the last of her guests had left, she walk ed into the supper room, whera the gas had been turned down, and gave vent to her weari ed spirits ty ejaculating "Thank Ood, they are all stuffed and pone!" "Not quite all,'* squeaked out a voice, "J have returned to find an car ring which I supposed was dropped while nt the supper table!" The hostess's chmgin can be belter imagined than described, when on turning round she discovered one of her nearest fashionable neighbors! Boston Journal. A Sttvr Potato —Professor Mopes hss re ceived a new California potato, brought (henco by Mr. r?. V. Mundy, of New Brunswick, weighing three pounds seven ounces. Its ap pearance gives indications of a good keeper,and of excellent quality. The eyes protrude like those of the Bermuda. The gentleman who brought it from California remarked at the Foymers’ Club New York that those potatoes were grown at the rate of 700 bushels to tho aero : also that tho mammoth tuber referred to will be planted on the farm of Prof. Mapes,who will report on its merits or demerits, as tho case may be, hereafter. r \£J~ ‘Do you cast things herd*, inquired a Yankee, the other day, as ho sauntered into a foundry and addressed tho proprietor. •Wodo.* 'You cast all kind of things in iron, eh V was tho next inquiry, ‘Certainly, don’t you see that is obr busi ness 1’ ‘Ah! well cost me a shadow, will you?* 07* A groat race took place on the Metairie course, near New Orleans, on tho 2nd {ml., in 1 which tho famous race horse Lexington ran fbr a stake of $20,000, lo boat tho flislcst lime at four miles, being 7 minutes and 20 seconds.— Ho accomplished Iho feat, running iho four ; miles In 7.10}, tho lira! mite being.run In J.47-}* Iho second in 1.52}, tho third in 1.61}, and the fourth in 1.-1 B&. An immense concourse of' spoctitors witnessed tho race j in the t,s<y great : •„ was the Interest felt in It, that an decUpivfor Judge of tho Supremo Court, wlfiob wWpla69. In tho Now Orleans district on thd tiifto dtyi drew out but a very moagro vote: Tw£> blhet horses, Arrow omj JooDlackburn, ran with lax- 1 Ington, merely to Increase his speed; Tbit tho greatest time on record.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers