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.