;CAN VOLUNTEER. * AMEK 3D EVERT TUUBSDAT UOHNINQ DT lobn ll* Bratton, PODUSHEI .TERMS SoDBOBiwiON.-rOno Dollat and Fifty Cents, hrld In advance,} Two Dollars if paid wjhln the ycflrj and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not bald within the year. These terms willhe rig idly adhered to in every instance. No subscrip tion'dlacontlnuod until' all arrearages are paid unless at.tho option oi the Editor. AnvBBTiSEMBNts— •Accompanied by the cash, and not exceeding one square, will bo inserted three times for one Dollar, and twenty-five cents foreach additional insertion. Those of a great, or length In proportion. Jon-PawnNOt-Such ns Hand-bills, Posting, bills, Pamhhlots, Blanks, Labels, &c., &c.» exe cuted witli/accuniry and at the shortest notice. ~J' poetical .Bishop Berber on Happiness. OnoTlTJTfnTng'ln the month of May, I wandered o'er the.;- ..1? Though Nature alt around was gay, My heart, was heavy still. Can God, 1 thought, the just, the great, Thcso moaner creatures bless, And yet deny to man's estate The boon of hoppiness 7 Tell me, yo woods, ye smiling plains, Vo blessed birds around, In which of Nature’s wide domains * Gan bliss for man bo found 7 ¥ho birds wild carrolled over bead — The breeze around mo blew, Abd Nature’s awful chorus said— No bliss for man hlio knew. I questioned Love, whoso early ray So rosy bright appears. And heard tho timid gonios say— His light was dimmed by tears. 1 questioned Friendship: Friendship sighed 5 And Urns her answer gave— t’ho few whom fortune- never turned, frero withered In the grave. 1 asked if Vico conld bliss bsslow ? * Vico boasted loud and well; But, fading from W withered brow, The borrowed roses felt. I sought of Feeling, if her skill Conld soothe the wounded breast; And found her mourning, faint and still, For others’ woes distressed. I questioned Virtue j Virtue sighed, No boon could sho dispense ; Nor Virtue was her name, she cried, But humble Penitence. I questioned Death : the grisly shade Uolaxed his brow severe; And “ 1 A™ happiness,” he said, “If Virtue guides thee hero.” Ono by One. FROM HOUSEHOLD WOODS. One by one tho sands are flowing, One by one the moments fall; Some arc coming some are going, Do not strive to grasp them all. Ono by one thy duties wait thee. Let thy whole strength go to each j Lot no future dreams elate thoo. Learn thou first what these can teach. Ono by ono (bright gilts from Heaven) Joys nro sent thee hero below 5 Take them readily when given, Ready, too, to lot them go. Ono by one thy griefs shall meet thee, Do not fear an armed band j One will fade us others greet thee, Shadows passing through tho land. Do not look at life’s long sorrow; See how small each moments pain; God will.hclp thee for to-morrow, Every day begin again. Every hour that fleets so slowly, Has its task to do or hear 5 Luminous (ho crown and holy, If thou set each gem with care. Do not Unger with regretting, Or for passion hours despond ; Nor the daily toll forgetting, Look too eagerly beyond. Ilnurs aro golden links, God's token, Reaching Heaven •, but ono by Take them, lest tho chain bo broken Er« tho pilgrimage be done. H ftlisrtllmifOM FIRST EXPERIENCE 0? A DEBT, ' Never did I feel prouder or richer than when .v mj father said, ‘Harry, that calfis yours ; I*ll L , give you Bossy:, she shall bo yours.’ He was ' V;BUnding whittling in the old barn-door, while his eldest son, was marking with delighted V'ii v interest, Bossy’s frisky movements in the yard; 4|| j .bow aho would snufl in the sweet morning air, iff' i then whisk her tail and caper round,ifnot with ‘ (tU the grace, with far more glndsomcncss and A*V Jpatundness than a ballet queen. Bossy seemed . *)<o think u a very pleasant thing to love. Much . its I loved the creature before, I was seized with a fresh puff of love at my father’s generous an .aounccment , , , . w »Ncp!’ I cried, ‘Ncp. that is my calf; see to \ U, sir, that you treat her like a gcntleman.and Allot bark at W or bite at her when you fetch ,'|£b cows from pasture,’ - i.-Neptune looked up. wagged his tad, and .VUnecd at Bossy.as much os to say, ‘Yes, yes, I understand the mailer,’ Totny brothersand .«}l«tcw—and there were five younger than my 'prffT-I was not long in communicating the sm • portant intelligence that 'Bossy was my ctuf; father snid so.’ ■i;‘.’Hffthcr,’ said 1. ‘lookoutof the window and fjtfUjW* calf; well, she is mine; Bossy is mine; said so.’ She thought it was a nice llt ,calf: and an she was churning, she odered do my churning for me, when Bossy's ago V'-'.MHMiId require such services. shall, mother,’ 1 shouted, with a glad Agi|h at the thought of it, ‘and though it would >jSffl»y butter, you shall have it all,’ and lam words ‘my’ and ‘mine 1 had a signifl* .fWM unknown before. , Besides Bossy, wo bad i cow. Bossy’s mother, ‘Star, 1 a two year a yoke of oxen, a few sheep, and plenty,of fowls; these, with six children, made family to be stabled, and fed by our ht .tlp the Vermont hills. . ' A to that summer, for the B jßr, ,cc * n c , r f in the field—ah, ■ ft ,^ 3 ana hill sides, and maple grottfAWtd.flr brivra tail and high, what do . " tho <% too wof the 4 U«tyJM.. l,bcrty ’ * nc \ of God’s »«#;• •monic U» MW They acUora brick wall bounds, 1 J flcM » “ nd ‘n»t their lungs , ‘country wins me ever.’ not only . aq lhp Jjfflrftngo of my early memories, but tho hope fhptctrcat of life’s declining days; ’ 4 I norfccframed a wish, or formed a plan. - That flitUcred me with hope of earthly bliss I■, But there I laid the scene. * tthink! worke<! with tinew alacrity now that I owned Bossy; I felt liken man, and n - ‘ man with‘more than a life interest in the world, . Ibrwhon tho farmers grouped together'and about their stock, I always wanted to ,j! llod'£few words about myself. ‘Jtfplbcr,’ I said, one pleasant twilight, ns t'iihotamo and sat in the door, while I throw my. oq tho turf; ‘mother, I want just one ‘ jduhStt make mo Inst as happy ns can be.’ 1 *And that is, 1 hope,' said she, with ono of : h«P fiwcot serious smiles, ‘to be a good boy like BY JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL 42. Joseph and Samuel, then I am sure you willbe a happy child.’ ... , I blushed and rolled over m the grass, for certainly nothing was then farther Irommy I thoughts than Joseph or little Samuel. ‘No mother,’ T answered at length.—half ashamed to own what it was. after this expression of maternal hope,—'not exactly that, thought I do wont to be a good boy and nobody can say T'don’t, hut now I was thinking of something else. Oh, mother,’ mustering up my courage, ‘I want a pail! a little tin pail! mine?’ squat ting on my bare toes before her and looking earnestly into her face., ‘And where is it to come from, Harry?’she asked. Alas.it.was a question more easily asked than answered. ‘The peddlcrsl’ I roared triumphantly, sup-1 posing I had gotten over the mount of difficul ty: ‘the peddlers! the next lime one comes, won’t you buy me a tin pail— my pail! to milk my calf in?’ ‘Harry forgets how littlewehavo to’buy it with, said my mother. ‘But.mothcr, you know Bossy will give milk soon, and she mush have a pail, and then I can milk, and it will help you so. mother.’ . How weighty my arguments might have seemed had she the wherewithal for the pur chase, I have no means of knowing: ns it was, she patted me on the dead, saying, ‘by and by ttarry will be able to earn one himself, and that will help mother.’ I leaned my head on her lap with a resigned and loving heart, for nothing over conquered my vagrant nr rebellions wishes like the friend ly patting of my mother’s hand upon my head. ’ And this was the first and last of Bossy’s pail. The next person to whom T wanted to com municate my good fortune was Joshua Pepper; but his home being some miles distant, no op portunity occurred for this purpose until the following Sunday, when I suddenly seized him by the jacket on the porch of the old meeting house, ns he .was about following his father up the aisle. 'You don’t know what I’ve got! 1 — T whispered excitedly in his car. but not so low as to'cscapn the hearing of his father, who turned round taking his boy by the hand, ab- . niptlv terminated our intercourse. Joshua , and T wore great friends when the winter school , kept and wo attended. This season we were ] l»tb at work, and consequently seldom met , except on the Sabbath, when during the short , interval of Sabbath services, we often strolled away and ale our dinners together in a neigh boring grove, or on the grass grown graves of the churchyard, or jh tho cool shed built for flic accommodation of all church going horses. For ip those da Vs there was no Sabbath schools to pasture tho lambs of the flock, so that we were, perhaps, sometimes in;dangcr of becom ing gnats. How I longed for the dose of the morning services, and when over, how I tried to-moderate my eagerness to find him. ‘Here I am.’he cried, twitching me by the sleeve, ‘come,’ and Ho led the way to a neigh boring well, while I lost no time in setting him guessing. ‘Well. 1 he cried, impatiently, *T can't guess. Now tell me wlmt it is. I should think it was molt likely to be a new knife, only you say it isn’t.’ •No! no!’ I shouted, charmed with his ill 1 success, W It is -ft calffTmr Bass!—Father has given tier to me: ho said so! she’s minor •Boss yoursf* and he looked delightfully in .credulous. .‘You got a calf! How good it was in your father. I suppose you know that Ivc I got aiamb?* I knew it. I ‘And now, Harry.’ ho slopped and took mo by the sleeve os if a great thought was sinking him. 'will the calf's calves he yours? That’s the question. Will Bessie's Bossies bo-your stock, too? Boy. you’ll have 4 drove soon !’— ft«pcct and admiration twinkled in his little grey eyes ns he surveyed me. ‘Yes! a drove soon!’ and he gave an cmphelic nod. *A drove! 1 shall, shan’t 11’ starting up at the full comprehension of this prolific idea. •Now. make a good bargain with your fath •er.’ said mv friend, with a shrewd wag of his head; ‘ldl him as Boss is yours, her calves will bo vours also. Have it understood.’ ‘Yes I will, that's a fact!’ And T frit pro foundly that two bends were letter than one. Here unhappily was food for the remainder of the day. Everv now and then during tho afternoon service I looked ban! into the minis ter's face, and tried to hear what he said—for my mother fixed our attention and refreshed our memories by making ns review to her the instruction of tho Holy Pay—when lo! my drove came rushing like n hand of cavajry up on tho field of mental vision, setting sermon and minister to flight.* The great question relative to the disposal of Bossy’s children could not bo asked that day, for the Sabbath was revered and held os sa cral time in my distant mountain home. And never did it seem so long and wearisome, di versified as it was by tho Catechism and Bible stories, and sweet psalm singing: never at least until this this Sabbath, when I longed for tho sun to go down and rise again, for mv tru ant heart was more full of Bossy than the Bi ble. To-morrow, and that matter shall bo set tled ! was the the last waking thought. I was awake and up before Monday’s sun. and tumbling over Ben. and ran into thekltch cn, shouting lustily, ‘Father!’ Ho had gone to the barn, and away I scampered crying impet uously as soon ns I saw him ‘Father! father, will Bossy’s children be mincor yours? Can’t my calf’s calves be mine, father? Won’t they be mine? 1 •XVo'U rco about if.’ was hid quiet reply. } ‘Well, father, if Bossiois mine. I don't see why her calves won't bo mine. 1 determined to ' bring my father to a definite agreement in the important point. ‘Well,* he said. ‘Well; and what docs that mean father?— .They are mine, arc they? all Bossy’s children, they are mins.' ‘As like os not, Harry, but belter wait till they come.* I jumped enthusiastically up, exclaiming *Oh, what o drove!* How I longed to race over the hills,,tell the satisfactory adjustment of tho ease to Joshua, But that was out of the ques lion, and I Contend myself with strutting around Boss, uniting her sides, affectionately shaking her lad, examing her small teats, un* til- forgetting altogether the dignity be coming to tho master of a drove, I sud denly threw my arms around. Bossy's neck and Kissed her. Bossy made some show of surprise, ond coquctishly attempted to with draw from my embrace. Some time during the day, under a generous impulse, I determin ed to give a calf to rack of my brothers and sis ters. just as my father had given Bossy to mo: •and they shall choose for themselves/ I said, *tho best and handsomest, if they -please.*— Never did I foci richer, and, what was better, generous as rich; ond in these nllluent circum stances. I continued for several happy days. ’ 9 no lnorn lng in tho succeeding week, my . father font mo into tho field with a basket of i potatoes for planting, promising soon to fol* ' a', , l)C S ,in drop tnem into the hills,until the basket was quite ompt}*, over and anon 1 looking towards tho house, ond wondering • what had become of my father. Ho did not ■ non ‘°* a "d having finished this part of tho work, I concluded to cut across the harloyllcld ' &nd run homo, for tho hoc. In tho yord I saw f a mau, whom I instantly remembered my fa- “quit Country— mat it always be ßiortT— but right or wrong, our country.” thcr more than once try .to dodge, and I also instinctively,, began to edge off, until I caught sight of Bossy, with a halter, round her nock, on the point of being led away. When father Baw meho turned and went behind the shod. •What are you going to do with her?’ I ask ed, as the man jerked Bossy along, lie looked -back, but made no answer. ‘What nro you carrying off my calf for?’ I demanded, boldly marching after. ‘Your calf!’ ho echoed, snccringly. ‘Yes, it is my call! father said so.* ‘Your calf!’ he repealed, and I shall never forget his tones. •What are you leading her off for?’ I asked passionately, as he drew her farther and far ther down the hill. 'She don't want to go,she don’t!’ ‘Tlsn’t as she says, I guess,' said tho man in a surly tone T still ran after, hardly knowing what to do or think. To go back and ask of father and expiation, and I should risk losing sight of Bos sy, and to lose sight of Bossy could not be thought of. , . . , ‘Where are you going to take her?’ I de manded, my courage rising with the. painful emergency; ‘she’s mine!’ •She's not yours, my youngster; she s Mr. Gibbs’: T have just taken her for a debt. I’m the sheriff, and I shall take you hoon, if you I don’t leave off;’ and quickening his pace, hoi tugged Bossy after him. ‘The sheriff!* I slop-, ped. frightened at my own boldness, and still I 1 more for the fate of Bossy. Tho sheriff was a formidable and dreaded functionary—l did not exactly know kow or why, only that ho had been mysteriously connected with much agita tion on the part of my father, and with the occasional disappearance of hens fi om the coop, pigs from tho pen, and lambs from the fold. This, then, was tho sheriff ? I stood still, a frnid to go further, and straining my eyes m the direction of my captive favorite, as they were about to make a bend in the road. I roared ont in a kind of wild excitement. ‘Bos sy! Bossy!’ She pricked up her care and turned round: then the man jerked tho halter, and both disappeared behind the trees. I shall never forget my feelings, impetuous boy that I was. when the last vestngo of Bossy s tail was lost to my view. T pressed my hands to my eyes to stifle tho hot tears, while I manfully tried to master tho cry of agony that rushed to my throat. Then I ran back to the house. Father was nowhere to be scon: the voices of the younger children were in the distance; and I went wildly In quest of my mother. ‘Oh mother!’ I sobbed, and unable longer to restrain my feelings. I leaned my head against the win dow and burst into a hearty fit of crying. ‘My son,' she said, well divining the cause. Just then tho children came running in. •Oh. Ilarrv!’ they began, but she hushed and motioned them all away. T tried to s'op my tears, and sat down upon a block. ‘Mother,’ lat length asked, break king the mournful silence, 'what did tho sher iff take Boss off fori* •For a debt which your poor father could not pav.’she answered sorrowfully. ‘And can they take anything for a debt? I asked with anxious interest. • •Anything—cvea.lo thohousoovorowbcml/K though I pray to God it may never come to that, and her voice’trembled*a very litUo. „ * ’ •Then I will never be in debt!’ the current or my feelings abruptly turning,‘never. never, never!’l cried with a florce energy; ‘Never, if they con take what wo love best, and Bossy s dear imago again dimmed my eyes jvith tears. ‘And shall X never see her ngainl it was some time before I could enter on this question, and then tremulously enough. j» • 'You can go down to Mr. Gibbs and see her, but you try and keep up heart Harry, she added with a forced cheerfulness, ‘perhaps things will go better by and by, and maybe if you are a good boy, you can earn a calf your self. ’ •And if I do. never a sheriff shall lay a finger on her!’ and with a proud sorrow I went back to the field. Ben and Neptune brought home the cows. Neither could I trust'inysclf with a sight of the barn yard, and slender appetite had I for my bread and milki.for it was not Bossy’s mother’s milk. Just bafo.ro going to bed I crept round tho house to tako a peon where Bossy Used to. be. I took a mournful pleasure In going where Bossy had been, and I almost hoped, by some strange turn offortunes wheel, she might still be found behind the shad ows. ‘Ah, it’s no use?’ I sighed leaning a gninst a post, in tho light of a young moon; ‘lt*s no use; Bossy has gone—my drove has gone, and nothing is lc?t —when I grow up no sheriff comes near me—l’ll never be In debt.— No taking my Bossy, Mr. Sheriff! Nb, Mr. Sheriff! No, sirl' and I shook my finger at the ideal imago of th&t respectable official in stem defiance. After going to bed. I could not sleep for thinking of the day's sad history. ‘Joshua is best off: he’s got his lamb: and I —l have lost my whole doovo. and Bossy into the bargain. There is one thing—l II never bo in debt! Nev er-I wonder where Bossy is Bossy-Bossy; and sleep boro mo oil with Bossy in my heart to tho to the land of dreams. Such was my Arst experience of debt. Getting on Invitation, It was observed that a certain rich man never invited any one to dmo.wilh him. I’ll lay a wager, saida wag, “I get an invitation from him.” The wager being accepted, ho goes the next day to the rich man’s house alxnit the time he was going to dine, and tells the servant that ho must speak with his master immediately, for he could save him a thousand pounds. “Sir,” said tho servant to his master, “hero is a man in a great hurry, who says ho cansavo you a thousand pounds.” ' ' , Out camo tho maste'r. “What {s. that, sirif Can you save mo a thousand pounds?” ; •Yes, sir, I can; but X see you arc at dinner; I will go myself and dine, nnd.call again. “Oh pray, sir, come in and take dinner with me.” ••I shall be troublesome.” “Not at all.” t , Tho invitation was accented. As soon os dinner was .over, and the family retired, the conversation was resumed. - “Well, sir,V,said the men of tho house, now to your business. “Prey lot mo know, how I am to save a thousand pounds.” “Why, sir,” said tho other, “I hear that you have a daughter to dispose of In marriage." “I have, air.” “And that you Intend to portion her with ten thousand pounds.” “Ido. sir.” “Why, then, sir, let mo have her, and I will take her at nine thousand.” The master of the house rose in a passion and kicked tho fellow out of doors. Old friends are best. King James used to call for his old shoes; they were easiest for Ids feet. (C7* Father Streeter, of Boston, during his ministerial service of 2tt years’ duration, has married 3.073 couples. Surely tho old gentle man has much to answer for. CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 21,1855. LETTER OF JOIIW TAJf IHKKT. | New YqYie, May 30,1855, Gentlemen: I have rcctavcd your favor, in viting me to attend and address a meeting of democrats at Tammany Hall on Thursday the 31st inst.,-to celebrate 'the glorious victory I achieved by the democracy in Virginia, and I greatly regret that unavoidable absence from . the city will deprive me of the pleasure of being j present. » I The result of the recent election in Virginia is, highly honorable to the electors of that unflinch-. ; ing democratic commonwealth. There is no i slate in the Union which has more signally \ manifested its devotion to principles in prefer ence to men, and there never has been an occa- j sion when that devotion was more conspicuous than now. In the great contest of 1840 a na tive citizen of New York Jed the democratic 1 column, and a native of Virginia was at the : head of the opposing forces.' I ! In that severe and disastrous conflict the! I democracy of New York-were overborne, but Virginia setting aside her own son, gallantly sustained the great democratic principles which, though prostrated in that campaign, were vic torious in the succeeding 'one, and have since been incorporated in the permanent policy of the government. In the severe struggle of ’44. which inaugurated this policy, the same alter native was presented to Virginia. Henry Clay, a native of Virginia, and a citizen of rare popu larity and tSlcht, was the whig champion— James K. Polk/of Tennessee, was his oppo nent. Although Tennessee refused to sustain her distinguished citizen, Virginia again post poning personal preferences, rallied to the dem ocrat iccauso.and swelled the tide of democratic triumph. Again, in ’52, the gallant nnd accomplished soldier who was the whig candidate for Presi dent, claimed Virginia as bis bwih place, and rejoiced in, the personal acquaintance and friendship of vast numbers of her citizens: again she turned from her own son to sustain thtHruc principles of free government, which she found represented by a comparative stranger from a distant state. And now, when the republican electors of Virginia saw the vital principles of civil and religious liberty embodied in candid ates with whom they had in past days main tained angry nnd protracted struggles, they promptly threw aside the recollection and pre judices these struggles ha<| left behind, and with a generosity and liberality that ought nev er to bo forgotten, brilliantly upheld their own cherished and time-honored creed. Personal considerations were everywhere laid aside. Acconiac, the residence of gave his competitor the usual wh : g majority.— Halifax, the residence of Mr. Flournoy, rolled up in Mr. Wise's favor one of its proudest dem ocratic votes. Itodcingham, Shennandoah and Pago, the old tenth legion of Virginia democra cy __iho staunch population denounced by the Richmond Whig os the Saubian Dutch—sus tained the democratic cause with unparalellcled unanimity and power. Gratifying ns the re sult is to democrats everywhere, and most hon orable to the intelligence and'steadiness of the Old Dominion, it is one that no careful observer of her past history, ought to Jm^doubWd. --A' pUrtT 'has- tetnno into existence which seeks to proscribe by its political action those who have not been born In the United, I States, or who profess a particular religious faith. They design to act in secret, deny their association, ond in answer to all inquiries make the response which has given them the name they bear. They are Know-Nothings. They know nothing of the struggles for freedom in the Old World—they know nothing of the cause ©four revolution—they know-nothing of the declaration of independence—they know nothing of the means by which our indepen dence was acquired—they know nothing of tho foundation on which our institutions were placed by tho constitution of tho United States, and 1 the recent canvass shows that they know, if possible, less than nothing of tho great men and great history of Virginia. Thomas Jefferson, one of Virginia’s noblest sons, and a champion uf tho world’s freedom, drew the declaration of our independence.which charged against our royal oppressor, amongst the chief of grievances,that '‘lie had endeavored to prevent the population of these states; for that purposoobslructing the laws for naturali zation of foreigners, refusing to pass others ’ to encourage their migrations hithcr, and raising the conditions of new appropriations of lands." Under this declaration, unanimously adopted, our forefathers raised tho standard of rebellion, and invitcd.tho aid and association of liberal men throughout the world. Lafayette, Kos ciusko, Steuben, Dc Kalb, and patriots Innu merable) whoso names do not require I 9 bo mentioned, flew to chat standard and converted that rebellion, into a successful and glorious revolution. During the bloody struggles by which it was accomplished, Thomas Jetterson drew tho cele brated act for tho establishment of religious freedom, which several afterwards, be came tho statute of ln a preamble of rare eloquence and force, it declared that “Al mighty God hath created tho mind free? that all attempts to influence it by temporal punish ments or burdens, or by civil incapacitations, tend only to beget habits of hypocrisy and meanness, and arc a departure from the plan of tho Holy Author of our religion,%ho being lord of both body and mind, yet chose not to propa gate It by coercion on cithtft as it wal In his almighty power to do.” m *, "That our civil rights havo'no dependence on our religious opinions, moroThan our opinions iu physics or geometry, that, therefore, tho proscribing any citizen as unworthy tho pub lie confidence by laying upon him an incapacity of being called to the offices of trust and emolu ment, unless he profess or renounce this or that religious opinion, is depriving him injuriously of those privileges and advantages to which, in common with his fellow citizens, ho has a natu ral right; that 'it tends also to corrupt;;the principles ol that very religion it is, meant to encourage, by bribing, with a monopoly pf worldly honors and emoluments,those who wi|l externally profess or conform to it.’* . .. • “That truth is great and will - prevail if left to herself—that she is tho proper and sufficient antagonist to error,and haS nothing to fear from tho conflict, unless by, human interposition dis armed of her natural weapons, freo argument and debate; errors ceasing to bo dangerous when it is permitted freely to contradict them.’ It was therefore enacted that no man should bo j enforced, restrained, molested or burlhcncd in his body or goods, nor should otherwise suffer on account of his religious opinions or beliefs: I but that all men should bo free to profess, and t by argument to maintain'.tlicir opinions in mat. tors of religion, and that tho same should in no wise diminish; enlarge or aflect their capaci ties. Tho net was declared to bo an assertion of natural rights, and any future act repealing it, or narrowing its operation, was pronounced an infringement of natural right. To tho vindication and support of tho great doctrines thus avowed, Mr. Jefferson dedicated his life.and after his death an inscription dr&wn by himself and now found upon his tombstone, 1 was discovered amongst his papers, to this ef fect—“ Hero lies buried Thomas Jefferson, au thor of tho Declaration of American Indepen- ißliite, donee, of the statute of Virginia for religions freedom, and father tho University, of Virginia. ” It was iif the teeth of this history, in thp face of this inscription and over the grave of this man, that the opponents of democracy in Vir ginia.dared to attempt the cstablishmAit of na tive intolerance and religious persecution. Nor had they the grace, os in every other Stale to hide their heads in a bag. Virginia alone has the viva voce vote. Those who would trample there upon the history of our revolution the precious princi ples under which it was earned on, and on which our liberties were (jstablished—those who would convert its promises into false pretences, and proclaim it a sham and a cheat,might know nothing, but in Virginia they must say some thing. They must vote rieo voce, and thus publicly admit their connection witli an order which they knew in their hearts deserved the utter ignominy with which it is soon to bo cov ered. The result is what might well have been anticipated. Mr. Wise deserves tho honor of having at an early day, forced this issue into the canvass. Ho deserves the credit of having conducted the canvass with ability, fidelity, in dustry and courage, and he richly deserves the high and honorable position in which thu result of the canvass has placed him. It is not alone his victory, or that of thooth. cr distinguished candidates who succeed with him ; it is not alone a victory to the democratic party—it is a victory of democratic principles, effected by liberal and just men. Party assc ciations, so frequently accidental, never accu rately describe or define the political sentiments of tho individuals who aro ranged under them. I have no doubt that many liberal minded whigs vated tho democratic ticket in Virginia, and 1., know that thonamds of them in New York, rejoice in its success. Let it then, bo our care so to conduct the approaching can vass in New York, that a still more glorious triumph may crown our efforts. Let our po sition be sharply defined, our cause thoroughly discussed, ana our candidates worthy of our cause. Do this, and New York, in ’55 and ’5O, will stand where she stood in 1600,'44 and '52, side by side with Virginia in the front rank of victory. Respectfully and truly yours, JOHN VAN BUREN. Rich lien In New York. Hero aro o million of people nearly, most of whom are trying, or at feast strongly desiring to bo rich, and the number who have succeeded - in that object is but ton hundred and sixty I Of these, three hundred and fourteen are put down at one hundred thousand. Two hundred and five have attained tho rank of nine hundred and fifty thousand. One hundred and flfty-nlno en joy tho distinction of two hundred thousand.— Seventy-nine have risen to tho height of aquar ter of a million. Seventy-five have readied the grade of throe hundred thousand. Eighteen have the rare facility of throe hundred and fifty thousand. Thirty-seven have won tho common, cr glories of four hundred thousand. Three in dividuals only havo paused at four hundred ana fifty thousand; while seventy-three havo pressed forward to tho grandeur of a half million.— Twenty-four havo proceeded to six hundred thousand; twonty-tivo to eight hundred thous and ; and sixteen havo attained tho giddy height of onb'thUTidii.* Fivohava gone 6n“toa ipUUoir and a half; six to two millions; one to three , minions; itro to four millions; one to, five mil lions; and one stands, solitary and alone, on (he pinnacle of six millions. Dow we Fay onr SjlJlcrs. The regular army now consists of about 10,- 000 men ; the militia force of 2,250,037. There arc in the United States the astounding number of 120,000 gentlemen who hold commissions !n the military service, and are, therefore, in tho enjoyment of military titles. The pay of a private soldier in the army of tho United Stales is $l2 a month “and found," but if ho enlists for a second term of five years, he gets $2 more. The pay of a Major-General is rather better, lie is entitled to $2OO a month, fifteen rations daily, three horses, and four servants. But ho generally takes his rations, horses and servants in the form of money, which raises his monthly stipend to $375. Tho pay of his aid-de-camp, supposing himto commute for tho four rations, three horses two servants, to which ho is enti tled, amounts to $l4l a month. The pay of a Brigadier-General, including commutation for twelve rations, three borscS, and two Servants, is $240,50 per month. A Col of dragoons or artillery, $lB3 ; Col. of in fantry, $100; Lieut. Col. of dragoons or artil lery, $102; Lieut. Col. of infantry, $140: Ma jor of infantry, $129 ; Captain, 79 60; First Lieut., $09,50 1 Second Lieut., $O4 50; Sur geon Gen., $2OB 33; Surgeon of ten years’ service, $151; Assistant Surgeon often years’ service, $122: Assistant Surgeon of five years’ service, $9850 ; Assistant Surgeon of less than Svo years’service, $Bl 83. All officers above le rank of Captain arc allowed one or more horses and servants or an equivalent In money. Oue ration goes for 20 cents; one horse $B a mouth, one servant, $l5 50. Meciiahicb.— Tho following beautiful extract la from Bnlwer’s celebrated play, entitled the “ Carpenter of llooucn.” It 1b a high compli ment to mechanics: What have thoy not done? Have they not opened tho secret chambers of tho mighty deep, and extracted its treasures, and made the raging billows their highways, on which they ride as on a tamed steed? Are not the elements of flro and water chained to tho crank, and at tho mo. chaulc’s bidding compelled to tarn it? Have not mechanics opened tho bowels of the earth, and mado its products contribute to our wants? Tho forked lightning Is their playing, and thoy ride triumphant on tho wing of tho mighty winds. To tho wise they are flood-gates of knowledge, and Kings and Queens aro decorated by their handiwork. Ho who mado tho universe was a groat mechanic. ■: ’ Moral Influence of Baujbs.—’Tho influ ence exerted unconsciously upon a family by a little child, 1 especially if it bo beautiful, gentle and good, Is not • easily estimated; Few: per sons are aware, or take time to think how much ill feeling is prevented—how much good nature and afteotlonato emotion are evoked; how much dullness and gloom are banished by (ho odd plays and sweet innoconclcs of the baby.— Even tho robuko which is sililv ministered over baby’s shoulders to some older body loses its vinegar and provoklngncss. Often, too, tho brother or father, impatientibr his meal; that ho may get to business, is cheated Into forget fulness while holding tho baby and listening to its funny attempts to talk. How, wo should like to know, can a man grnmblo while baby lis crowing in his face or clambering on his I kneel Ilcavcn’s blessings on all good babies. (£7" Tho two General Assemblies of tho Pres byterian Church —both Old and New School bodies —have resolved to meet in tho city of N. Y. in May 1850. (n7*Tho city of Cleveland has a law that every owner of a doe shall pay a tax on male canines $5. on females 810. i IC7“ A young man named Dent has been mulcted in $2,000 for seducing the daughter of Thomas Grider, at Farmington, Mo. ttlT* An ugly baby is an impossibility. AT $2,00 PER AfCKOI, NO. 2. Gen. Jnckton n Gentleman. Instead of being a rude and onpolisbcd man, os many have erroneously supposed, General Jackson was considered by all who knew him, intimately os the very perfection of a gentle man. Hjs manners were courteous in the ex treme, and to illustrate this fact Mr. Buchanan related a striking incident. 110 said, on one occasion, he received a letter from an American lady, who hod a dabghtcr married to an indi vidual of high rank among tho English nobility. In her note to Mr. Buchanan, she informed him she bbjrc a message to the President of tho Uni ted Stotes, fiom William IV., and she desired him to accompany her to tho White llouso in order that she might present it in person. Mr. B. obeyed her request, and they went to the President’s mansion. lie excused himself for a tew moments and went to the private room of tho President, where ho found him in tho tnost wretched disabillo. lie was clad in the old grey surloul coat, a dirty shirt, his beard was long, and to crown all, was smoking an old blackened pipe. Mr. B. acqunincd him with the fact that Mrs. r— was in another, part of the mansion, with a message to him from the King of England. He was fearful the old Gen. might walk down stairs to receive his visitor in that sorry plight, and therefore sug gested to him whether ho had not better arrange his dress and shave. His reply was. “Buchan an, I once knew a man who made a fortune by minding bis own business —go down stairs, and say to Mrs. I shall be happy to wait on her presently.” He left the apartment, and in a very short time the old gentleman gracefully j entered the room, dressed in a suit, of black , cloth, clean shaved, with his fine head of white j hair, carefully brushed, and received the lady ! with the greatest ease and polish of manners.— I Sho boro to him the kind salutations ot tho | King with the request that he would, after the j expiration of his Presidential term, visit Eng- 1 laud. On their return from the White House, tho lady expressed her high gratification, and the pleasure she bad derived from the interview, and said she had visited every principal court in Europe, and mingled with those of the high est rank, but that Gen. Jackson in all the at tributes of gentlemanly courtesy, aud highly re fined manners, excelled every other man she ever met#— Arthur's Magazine. Hint] (ot marriageable Ladies. If a man wipes his feet on the door-mat be 'fore coming into the room, vou may be sure he will make a good domestic husband. If d roan, in snufilng the candles, snufls them out, you may be sure ho will rpake a stupid husband. , if a roan put his handkerchief on his knees while taking his lea, you roay be sure ho will make a prudent husband. In the same wav, always mistrust the roan who will not take the last niece of toast or Sally Lunn, but prefers waiting for the next warm batch. It is not unlikely he will make a greedy, sel fish husband, with whom you will enjoy no •-brown” at dinner, no crust at lea no peace," whatever at home. The man, roy dpars, who wears gnloo shoes, and is careful about rapping himself up well before, venturing into the night?oir, not unfre quontly makes a good invalid husband, that most]/ stops at home, and is easily comforted with slops. The roan who watches the kettle and pre vents its w'ifl not fail, my dears, in his married state, in exercising the same care in always keeping I lie pot boiling. The roan who doesn't take tea, ill-treats U\o cat, takes snuff, and stands with bis back to the fire, is a brute whom I could not adviso you, roy dears, to marry upon any consideration, either for love or money, but decidedly not for love. But the man who, when tea is over, is dis covered to have had none, is sure to make the best husband. Patience like his deserves being regarded with the best of mothers-in-law. My dears, when you meet with such a man, do your ut most to marry him. In the severest winter bo would not mind going to bed first. London Punch. The California Snake Bird, Alexander S. Saylor, of Monterey, in bis •Familiar Sketches of the Natural History of California,’ says: 'That in the coast counties of Southern Cal ifornia, there exists a singular species of birds, generally called, on account of his well-known mortal averson to all mcmDcrs of the snake tribe, the ‘snake bird.' It Is not a bird of prey, but lives entirely upon grain, like the gollinacia. Wbeto full grown,'it measures two feet from the end of its toil to the tip of its beak. The tall has four or five feathers tipped with white. Its feet are furnished with four toes, two in front and two behind; and all aro guard ed with sharp needle like claws. The color of the bird is a mottled, yellowish gray, and it rardy attains the weigh of a pound. Its beak is two and a half inches long, and very hard and sharp. When this bird finds a rattle snake—and rattlesnakes aro to be found in great numbers in Southern California, wherever the ground is covered by the cactus plant —it immediately proceeds with the greatest caution and des patch. to gather the fallen cactus fruit, and dry lobes, and quietly enclose him in. to the height of a foot or more—the spikes and spine of the plant, strong and sharp as needles,serf jng os an insurmountable to escape of the snake. This being accomplished, the bird gathers, with its claws and feet the young cones of the pine which aro as hard and heavy as stones, and hovering over its enemy, lets them foil one by one, from tho height of Uvo or six feet, upon tho Infuriated viper, who, sur rounded by prickles and points wherever ho turns, is soon fully aroused to tho danger of his position. Tho bird, with malicious screams, continue to drop one after another, until his foe is exhausted, and then picks tho snake to death with its iron, beak.— Scientific American . To xn* Poimt,—Wc have never seen scrip tural quotations more aptly applied than in tho following dialogue, which took place at tho ta bio of Bishop Doano t It is stated that BishopDoftQO'OfNow Jersey, is strongly opposed to temperance. A short time since, Rev. Mr. Perkins, ol tho same de nomination, and n member of tho order of “Sons,” dined with the Bishop, who, pouring out a glass of wine, desired tho lovorond gen tleman to drink with him, whereupon ho re plied : “ Can’t do (t, Bishop, wino is a mocker.” “ Tako a glass of brandy, then,” said tho dis tinguished ecclesiastic. “ Oan’t do it, Bishop, strong drink is rag- ing.” By this time tho Bishop, becoming somewhat roetlvo and excited, said to Mr. Perkins t “TOu'll pass tho decanter to tho gentleman next to you,” . “ No, Bishop, I can’t do that, woo unto him that puttoth tho bottle to his neighbor’s lips.” What was tho peculiar mental condition or moral stato of tho Bishop at this stage of_tbo proceedings, our informant did not state.— /aloe Democracy. Why do pioneers go before au arm; To axe the way. Him SAMPSON OBTAINS.REVENGE. Mr. Snarl resides, in Konyth street. .■ Mr* Snarl is an old bsel|elor;.«ith an Irish girt for • liouse-kccpor. Snarl.lives Id good stylo, put lias somo queer i Ho dlslikCsdogs above all things, organ-grinders and beggars not e** CfpPtcd* , ' i , Snarl’s next'door neighbor!* Harry Samp-, son. Now, Harry is (ho opposite of old Mr. Snarl. Ha dots 0 high rain© on a dog, and thoro is only .one article equal ,to a Newfound lander, and that’s a.wdnian* Hany has several specimens oftho'canlne race.' Tboother ovens* 7 lag they got'up a howling > match. because tbo f moon became eclipsed. .They commenced about . ten o’clock,.and kept it up till *b© son got Inch and a .hall* above Williamsburg. , •This so annoyed Mr. Snarlfitbat ho had Har-r ry jerked up “ tor a nuisance,” and lined .toll t dollars. Harry paid the motiey, but resolved. on revenge. Tho’next morning tho following l advertisement appeared in tho Herald: J c > Wanted—At Forsyth street, two Bull dogs., and four Spaniel Pups. For full-bbodcd dogs’ the highest price will bo paid; CIIH boKv®® n 4 , and Op. m/ . . JAMES SNABI/. ■. , We need not say Uial tho. advertisement inserted by Harry. His reason for,making tho calls between four and six p. m. wo® because * Mr. Snarl was always out at that hour# taking > an airing around tho Battery.* - , At tho hour specified, dogs and,pups_mlgn| have been seen going up the Bowery to Grand, to Forsyth, and up Forsyth to tho mansion ©c*; cupicd.by Mr. Snarl. , , • ’ • i Tho first person that pulled tho door bcllwofl a butcher boy (Vom Center Market j with a pair of bull dogs that would,« tear h~l out of a ti ger.” Moggie answered the bell, when tho.io** lowing colloquy took place: tt Docs Mr. Snarl live hero I” «Ho docs.' Why do you ox?’ 1 «< I’ve got some dogs lor him.” * . u Dogs for Mr. Snarl—mother of Moses, did you ever { you’ve mistook tbe door.” "Devil a bit of it—read that.” Here Sykaio took out tho Morning Herald, and showed Moggie tho advertisement. , Magglo was thunderstruck, still thoro was “ no denying tho advertisement.” She accordingly told oyh slo to go into tho back yard “ wid tho dogs, and await tho return of Mr. Snarl. Syksio did so n about two minutes Maggie was sgaln sunn inoned by the door-bell. “ What do you want V* «• iMr. Snarl—l»vo got them dogs ho wanted.” *«You hnvo—well then go into the yard wld Iho other blackguard.” No. 2 followed No. Ij Ho. 2 was soon follow-, cd by No. 8, who was succeeded by lots, 6, 6. and 7. By half past five the back yard cohtaln* ed twenty-one bull dogs, and fourteen spaniels..' The former got up a misunderstanding, and by. tho time Mr. Snarl arrived, seven spaniels had . boon placed hon rfu combat, while a brindlebull dog f rom Fulton Market was going through hl< third fight with a “yallar terrier,V from Molt street. Mr. Snarhrcachod homo a few minutes before six. Maggie opened tho door, and burst out as follows s • ... - «■ For tho love of tho Lord go back and mop. ’em. They are ateing one another np, and if not choked otf will devour tho ccstern. Since the days of Urummcl I’ve not seen such bulla-, baloo entirely.” . . , . . Snarl •» went back”—Snarl looked into the vnrd and would have sworn, but ho could not (lod oaths sufllclcntly powerful to do justice to his feelings. When wo left, Mr. Snarl was emptying «tho back yard” with an axe-helve., Tho next morning Harry Sampson complained of him for having a “dog fight” on hisprcmlscs. Snarl was fined twcnty.fivo dollars—fifteen dol lars for having “ such a fight,” and ton dollars lor being “an old hypocrite.” It Is not neces sary for us to say that Harry Sampson slept bet ter that night than any night since tho war with Mexico.— N. K. Dutchman . TAB TRUE WIPB. She is no truo wife who sustains not her has. band in tho day of calamity, who is not, when tho world’s great frown makes the heart chill with anguish, his guardian angel, growing bright er and more beautiful as misfortunes crowd around hla path. Then lathe lime for testing whether the sweetness of temper beams only with a transient light, or like the steady glory of thoTnornfng star, shines as brightly under the clouds. Has she (hen smiles Just as charming? Does she say “Affliction cannot touch onr puri ty, and should not quench our love ? Doc s she try, by happy little Inventions, to lift from hU. sensitive spirit Iho burden of the thought? ~ There ore wives—nay, there are beings who. when tho dark hours come, tail to repining and upbraiding—thus adding to outside anxiety tho harrowing scenes of domestic strife—as If all rite blame in the world would make one hair white or block, or change the decree gone forth* Such know that our darkness, ia heaven’s light t : our (rials are but stops in a golden dodder, by! which, if wo ascend, wo may at length gain that eternal light, and batho forever fn its fullness And beauty. “ Is that all 7 and the gentle ftce of tbs wife beamed with Joy. Her husband had been onth* verge of distraction—all bis earthly possessions wore gone, and bo feared tho result of hof knowledge, she had boon so tenderly eared for 1 all her Hl'o I. But, says Irving’s beautiful story * “ a friend advised to give not sleep to bis eyes nor slumber to his eyelids until ho pad unfolded to her all his hapless case.” And that was her answer, with the smile of an ungul— lt that all t 1 foared by yoor sad ness it was worse. Lot those beautiful things bo taken—all this splendour let it go, I care not for (t—l only caro for my husband’s love and confidence. You shall forget, in my affection, that you were ever in prosperity---only still love' me, and I will aid you to bear those little re verses with cheerfulness. Advice to Yonng Men. There arc thousands of men who possess wealth which bos been obtained at the neglect of intellectual cultivation. Those would give half their fortunes if they could be set back and have tho leisure for mental culture which ybung men arc throwing away. Let this be no long-, cr. Commence nbw to devote an hour or two each evening to sturdy. It may bo difficult at first, but it will be easier as you proceed, and at lepgth it will become the most delightful of all your enjoyments. The mind make? tbo man. Do not sulfur yours to bo dwarfed by tso much enjoyment either in business or plea sure. Whatever you do for the cultivation of your intellect will bo permanent. Every boor expended In this manner will return you five hours of the roost elevated enjoyment in after; years. i - Nor ia this all. As you bccomo intelligent, your opportunities for usefulness will increase,- and you can be the bcncfoclor of your race,—- With an Increase of usefulness comes an tncrcase of emolument. Tho bcttcrablo you are to help others, the bettor qualified will you be to' help yourselves. Do not then trifle, away tho bcsl years of your existence in low and fnviloua plea sures, which will only degrade you, and impale both your usefulness and succqsa in* after life. A Pointed Reduce. —‘Father, I hato that Mr. Smith,* said- a beauty, tho * other day, to* her honored parent. •Why so, my daughterly ' . 'Because he always stares at pic so; when ho meets roe in the street.* •But, my child, how do you know that Mb. Smith stares at'yowl* ‘Why, father, bocalcso X have repeatedly scon him do it.’ ' . • ■ ‘Well, Sarah, dbn’t you look at tho impu dent roan again when you meet him, and tnen* ho may stare his eyes out without annoying you in tho least. Remember Hint it always takes two pairs of eyes to make a stare.* [£/" Experience is a pocket compass, that a fool never thinks of consulting until ho has lost his way. \SZ7" T|ho Juryman who “stood out” got wet. It bad commenced raining about that time. IC7" Every woman is in tho wrong until sbo cries—and then she is in tho right, instantly. I£7"IIow ignoble most men's lives would ap pear to themselves if described os tho lives oil others! Prodigals arc bomof misers, as butter* flics ore boro of grubs.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers