AMERICAN TpLUN'CEEII. ■pupMancn EVEav xhuusdAy iionrnna ox Joim Dratton. TERM'S SunsoitiPTiON.—One Dollar ami Fifty Cents,- prld In advance } Two Dollars ifpaid:witliln tbc year} and T*wo Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid, within tho yean Those terms will bo rig idly adhered to in every instance. ' No subscrip tion dlacontlmicd untll all arrearages.are paid unless at tho option of the Editor. Advehtiseuents — Accompanied by tho oxen, and hot exceeding one square, will bo inserted throe times for one Dollar, and twenty-five cents forcach additional insertion. Those of a great er length in proportion. Jon-PaiNTisa —Such as Hand-bills, Posting bills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c., fee., cxe tutod with accnrary and at tho shortest notice. ffoetiml The Passing Fear *< Mother, I shall not die,” she said, Calmly lying, opened-eyod, Still smiling when the morning rose, 'Smiling at even-tide. t< Mother It was not Death, whoso hand Abovo my cyclids'drawn, t*nt back my seVcnteon childish years, And made a new world dawn. b golden world! O wondrous world I My heart looks back amaze Upon thooc by-gone years, and forth Into the coming days. b. mother] was it thus, and thus, -.That when my father came rbli hid your burningface, and cowered Blushing, but not with shame 7 And, mother, was it thus, ay, thus, That when my father said *Thoso words—it seemed an angel’s voice Wakening the newly dead 7 fro death—sweet life! Shall I arise, And walk serene and strong, fry mother’s household ways, pud sing , My mother’s household song / Shall I stand hy him, as you stand By my dear father’s side, And hear as you heard yesternight, ' “ Dearer the wife than bride /” And—strange, oh? passing strange to think, If ever there should bo For mo, grown old, o fond arm’s clasp, Mother, as I clasp thee I O mother, mother, hold me close, Until these tears run dry ; God, Thou wort very merciful, Thou wouhlst not let me die I “When Stars Arc in the Quiet Skies.” dt r. L. iiulweu. When stars are in the quiet skies, Then most I pine for thee; Dcnd on mo (hen, thy tender eyes, As stars look on the sea. For thoughts like waves that glide hy night, Are stillest when (hey shine, Mine earthly love lies hushed in light, Beneath the heaven of thine. There Is an hour when angel’s keep, Familiar watch o'er men, When coarser souls arc wrapped In sleep— Sweet spirit meet mo then. There is an hour when holy dreams Through slumber fairest glide , Ami in (hat mystic hour it seems, Thou shouldst bo hy my side. Tho thoughts of the too sacred are, For daylight’s common beam, 1 can but know thee a» my star, My angel and my dream t When stirs an; in the quiet skies, Then most I pine for thee; Bond on me then, (hr. tender eyes, As stars look on tliu sea. Til Ron atllla AViird. OR, THE DOUBLE BRIDAL. • A few years ago I made one of the seventy nine passengers on board the lasi steamer, Em ily Ugyton, bound up the Tennessee. A plea sabt, Intelligent, go ahead captain, agood stew ard, and a social, relined company, made the -trip ono of pleasure, Indeed lung shall 1 remem ber tho saucy Emily Barton, and "lier superb living freight. , Ono lovely summer afternoon it was whisper cd that we were to have a wedding before the boat readied her destination, —said whisper started first low and near the stern, somewhere jv in the vicinity of the ladies cabin, and speedily s «; making its way to tho hall, the holler deck, mid ’Y-; then to tho main ; like the snow-ball rolling down * <t v the mountain, gathering size, form, and mntnen turn, as it rolled forward, until the principals in k; the Interesting scone were not only pointed out, ft but (ho parsun with some scraps of the history 5 of each fiction, fad, and surmise, all hushed up ’lngeniously, leaving one In that half pleasant, '■ -half painful stale of suspense ami doubt, that opens (ho eyes so wide nud strains the drum of tbo ear so tight to nil transpiring around you. " Well, wo landed to wood at a magnificent -bodch bottom, the tall, heavily leaved treeswith their silver grey trunks making a deep cool i-ahado, while they, with the grassy green hank '{that boro (hem, wore Imagined In tho glassy riv- Ycr, so clear, so true, that Inversion only pointed tho false from the real, while cutting this clinrtn ’ Jng spot in twain, came murmuring a crystal 1 spring brook, scarcely four spans wide, to lose Ttsolf in tho mass Of Tennessee waters, they In foturn to be alike lost In (ho boundless sea. • iJo sooner was the staging out than there em erged from tho ladles* cabin a tine, manly lonk ■ .fng follow, dressed In faultless taste, intellect (beaming In every feature, while over his face happiness shone like Thorns on tho son. Loaning on bis arm, was tho most loveable wo .TOkh It has ever boon my lot to behold, her fine huol eyes—loll tales that they were—speaking dMpomollon, and her expressive Hp quivering •with >suppressed excitement, while her dross, .jrtpfoand graco, was that of a qnocn. ■<Thoro they are I That’s her I —Oh, how hoau 'tthuT burst from many a lip, as wo instinctive ifrJttfldo way to lot tbcm pass to tho altar, and ..«fb£lp.that was we had about as clear an idea as A tntacondoiitalist generally lias uf what they are 1 ,‘tukttig about. But ono tiling was < fun* ahead, MU!: 'to follow in their wuk,e was the way to see -As tho ladies passed,"a gallant arm was of- to each, and thus we marched out of (ho down the stairs, across tho staging, and ’asSßtho sloping bank. Some fifty yards up tho qqHlpk (ho pair stopped, and Joining hands they with (ho clear water between thorn—br(d ilSjllt was by the twining fingers and crossed by TRfflgpam of love as pure ns itself. All was si wfflSi»Ull, until broken by tho minister reading manner s ‘ And of the rib which > |>ad taken from man, made ho ft wo brought her to tho man. Adam said v i lto °f my h°uo and flesh of my flesh, , B * * )0 Wo »mn hocauso aho was taken *T hcro , foro shall a man climvonnto 1 ftlul * ’. oy BllrtU ho ono flesh.* Ho fhon tsloaod the good and holy boolc* and offered n butUZodToTeel I '^^i UlUful P«yw. not a heart her boftutlfnl faco all covered with tea?!’ cw? .4 her Jural.. rad in tho J ,»OfcOi(«npulou» With emotion, said, “ , oh . morolfrtl Fnthor. (trail li,„i oMtflfyd# thus milled may paneafully dow In ora 1 o'o' i« Ml " rivulet, until wo ronelt tho river uf deal)., undivided In fnlll, nnd conduct, nnd bo permitted to enjoy thino eternal smiles In tho land of tho pure and blessed.” •' ,;Kvory phlso snomud stilled, hoping for moro Of ,th|s beautiful drama. Not a word, not ft jnovuraoht from all that throng—nil, all was him -plnos*; 1 Oh, lovely panorama, how thon art gravou 6r» this heart! Thu happy man was in tho Jet of Imprinting a kiss upon tho smiling lips ‘tbrhf&iaagnineoiit bride, when tho cloarlonosof <S!LW!L- y v ,°i?° fltlir,ol! all from their pleasing rovinoi, ami (ha universal gaze rested on a tall, natulßomd TenncHsoean, whose eagle oyo spoke Jim upon n 111 representative of tlio Stnto whore * elQops' a Jackson .* ,*** can’t stand this any longer. I can’t by— BY JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL 42. . pardon ladles, but } have a prbpositlon to mnko on tho_good faith of a man who never lies or trifles.' I must niaka it or die—so hero goes : Now I will marry on this spot to any lady who has the ncrVo to face such music. Look at mo; and If you can love mo as alio loves'(polntlngto 'the bride) I’ll promise to bo a husband to you, such a husband ns a true hearted man will make a woman who comes trembling tinder his wing; I say further, that no spot ol shame attaches to my name, or over shall, and this arm shall sup. port and protect tho ono that will trust it.— Who’ll take me 7 and his 070 ran slowly and steadily over the crowd of handsome woman around him. Ills earnest manner and novel speech had aroused an Intense excitement, all was surprise and deep sympathy with tho fear less, excited orator, when, to tho astonishment and delight of every one, a lawn like, blue eyed girl trom tho flowery banks ot tho Alaba ma, stepped to his side and looked confidently up to his eyes witli her hands on his arm, and said— -1 am thine.” By tills time Ilia arm was around her waist, and parting her curls—black ns tho raven at midnight—looked steadfastly in her face for a moment and “signed tho contract” with a kiss that all the married Indies afterwards pronoun* ced to ho of tho genuine sort, perfectly satisfac tory. liaising his flashing eyes with a triumph ant expression from tho pleasant job just men tioned, lie said : “ Whore is tho parson ? Send him hero—on tills spot wo’ll ho made one. I never lot such luck pass me hy wanting u minute, so go ahead,” and on that spot whore first they met, wore they solemnly united forever. When the words, “what God hod joined lot no man put asunder,” died away, a shout wont up that awakened tho echoes, for milos, every hand was extended to (ho happy, lucky, ven turesome fellow, and every lady in that crowd pressed tho lips of ids (rusting wife. For a moment I wished I were her, hut’l instantly re covered my self possession, and thrust tho weak ness from mo, (women kissing each other al ways seomod a waste of swootnoss, hut they know best,) and laughing, shouting and happy, ive all returned on hoard. Our generous captain Fat n splendid supper, tho clerk mndo out two certificates, they were signed hy tho parson mid seventy-four witnesses —five more made nine you knmv, men and wo men all told—every body signed. Then wo danced, we laughed, wo made,chil dren of ourselves—yen, l*m almid we made fools of ourselves. Be that as it may, when the watch wua changed at solemn noon ol night, (ho bluffs on the dark shores of tho river returned only the echo of the honrgo coughing of engines ol Hie Emily Barton, for wo slept, and our dreams vainly tried to vie with tho lovely reality of the evening. Man and Immortality. Man is n seed, and birth is planting. ITe is in life for cultivatin'*, not exhibition: he is hero chiefly to be acted on, no to bo characteristic ally an agent. For though man is also on ac tor, he is ycl more a recipient. Though he produces effects, he receives a thousand-fold more Ilian it’produces. And ho 5a to bo esti mated by his capacity of receiving, not of do. ing. Ho has liis least value in what he can do; it nil lies in what he is capable of having done to him. The eye, the car, the tongue, the norwuof rtrowyr- iTh*- umleratahtUng,' tho affections, tho moral senti ments, all arc, primarily and characteristically, recipients of inllucncc, and only secondary agents. Now. how different is the value oforc dead in its silent waiting-places, from the wrought blade, the all but living engine, and the carved and curious utensil. Of how little value is n shin standing help less on the stocks—btit half built, and yet building—to one who has no knowledge of the ocean, or of what that helpless hulk will be come the moment she slides into her element, and rises and fulls upon the Hood with joyous greeting! The value of an acorn is not what it is. but what it shall be when nature has brooded it. ami brought it up. and a hundred years have sung thru' its brunches and left their strength there! He, then, that judges man hy what he can do, judges him in the seed. We must sec him thro’ some lenses—we must preligure his im mortality. While, then, his industrial value in life must depend on what ho can do. we have here the beginning of moral value which lioars no relation to his power, hut to his fu ture destiny.— Ururii H'nnl Hrccher. TO THE POINT. The following “roadside confab,” will suit this latitude admirably : •‘And so, Squire, you don’t take your coun ty paper.” “No, Major. I get the city papers on much better terms, nnd so I take a couple of them.” “But. Squire, the comity papers proves great convenience to us. The more wo encourage tlfcm the better the editors can make them.” “I douT know of any convenience they arc to me. ” “The farm you sold last spring was advertised in oac of them, nnd you thereby obtained acus lomer, did you noli” “Very true, Major ; but I paid three dollars for it.” “And made much more than three dollars by it. Now. if your neighbors had not sustained that press and kept it ready for your use, you would have been without the means of ndver lislng your daughter’s marriage in one of these papers.” “And your brother’s death was thus pub lished.” “Yes. yea, but— “And when your cousin Splash was out for the Legislature, you appeared gratified at Iris newspaper defence which cost him nothing.” “Yes, yes: but these things are news to tho renders. * They make people lake tho papers.” “No. no, Squire Grudge, not if they arc nil likoyou. Now. I tell you tho day will como when some ono will write a long eulogy on your life and character, nnd tho printers will put it in type, with a heavy black lino over it; and with all your riches this will bo done for you as a grave is given to n pauper. Your wealth, liberality, and such things will bo spoken of; but the printer’s boy ns he spells tho words, in arranging tlio type to tho saying, will remark of you : “Poor, mean devil, he is even spong ing for his obituary notice.” “Good morning. Squire.” Personal Bkautv. —Just al>out the last in* horitanco winch a parent should wish his child —whether male or female —is personal beauty. It is about the poorest kind of capital to start in the world with. Who ever saw a beauty who was worth the first red cent? Wo mean what the world calls beauty for there is a kind ol beauty more than skin deep, which the world does not fully recognize. It is not of that which wo speak.- But the girl whom all the fops and fools go into cxtacics about—we should as soon a child of ours should be—not quite so beautiful. And then your handsome youjig.man over and about whom all the girls aro in cstaclcs, what chance lias lie of ever be* being anybody? A sad destroyer of high am bition is beauty. Prom being fitted for the shallow nates of the other sex, who can appre ciate nothing else, they become content with a low standard of attainment, and are happy only when dancing attendance upon those wuo arc pleased with tucir insipidity. “OUR COUNTRY-—MAY it ALWAYS BE RIGHT —DDT RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.’ Jack Kink and ike Yankee, Few communities are more strongly imbued with a passion for horse-racing, thon the good people of Natchez. In New York, folks talk, •soger.’ and ’engine:’ in Paris they talk ‘opera’ in Natchez they talk ‘horse.’ They believe in' ; quadrupeds, and nothing else. To own tho \ fastest horse in Natchez, is to enjoy tho fee simple of an honor in comparison with which, a member of Congress sinks into nothingness. In October last, tho ‘fall mooting’ look place, and led to moro than the usual excitement and brandy cocktails. The last race of the day, , was a sort of ‘free fight,’ open to every horse that had never won a race; purse,ssoo, entrance 925. Among those who proposed to go in. was a Yankee pcdlor, with a sorrel colt, of rather promising proportions. Ho thus addressed ono of thejudges: ‘I soy. Captain, I should liko to go in for that puss!’ ‘With what” ‘That sorroV-enlt.’ *Ts ho speedy?’ ‘T calculate he is, or I would not wish to risk a load of tin-ware on the result.’ ‘Do you krow the termsl’ •Like a book : puss 5500. and entrance fee 825; and there's the dimes.’ Hero Yankee drew out a last century wallet, and socked up two X’s and'a V. Among those who witnessed the operation, was Jack Rink of the Bcllcvcno House. Jack saw his customer, an immediately measured him for an After tho usual fuss and pa laver, the horses were brought up—the Yankee gathered np Ins reins and adjusted his stirrups. While doing this, Mr. Rink went to the roar of ‘the sorrel colt ’ and placed a chestnut" bur un der his tail. The next moment, the order to ‘go.’ was given, ond away went nine horses of all possible ages and conditions. The Yankee’s was ahead, and kept there. ‘Tin-ware,* was evidently pleased with the way things were working, and smiled nsmilethat seemed to say, •that puss will bo mine, in less time thon it would take a greased nigger to slide down a soaped liberty |K>lc.' Poor fellow! he hadn’t reckoned on (hat chestnut burr. The ‘irritant’ that Jack Rink had administered, not only increased tho ani mals velocity. but his ugliness. Ho not only ran like a deer, hut lie refused ‘lodo’ anything else. As the Yankee approached tho judges stand, he undertook to pull up. hut it was no go. He might as well have undertaken to stop a tluuuler-bolt with a yard of fog. Tho Yankee reached the stand—the Yankee passed tho stand—the Yankee went down the road. When last seen, the Yankee was pass ing through tho ‘adjoining’ country at a speed that made the people look at him os ‘that comet,’ that was to make Us appearance in tho fall of 1854.’ Where the sorrel gin out, it is impossible to say. All we’know is. that tho Yankee ha? never been heard of from that day to this, while his wagon load of tin-ware still makes one of the leading attractions in tho Mu scum of Natchez. PI3TM AS A SPL„ . -••Tliv twtvwtngTmntxmottrSfonc of onr; wor thiest revolutionary patriots is full of the eccen tricity which clioraoterizcd tho old “wolf exter minator:” . Among the officers of the revolutionary army, none, probably, possessed more originality than Gen. Putnam, who was eccentric and fearless, blunt in his manners, tho daring soldier, with out the polish of a gentleman. !fu might well be called the Marion of tho North, though he disliked disguise, probably from the fact of his lisping, which was very apt to overthrow any trickery he might have in view. At tins lime a stronghold called Horscncck, some miles from N. Y., was in the hands of tho British. Putnam, with a few sturdy patriots, was lurking in the vicinity, bint on driving them from the place. Tired oflying in ambush, the men became impatient, and importuned the General with a nucslion as to when they were going to have a bout with tho foe. One morn ing he made them a speech something like tho following, which convinced them something was in the wind : ‘Fellows, you have been idle too long and so have 1, I’m going to Bush's, at Horscncck, in an hour, with an ox team and a load of com. If I come back I will let you know tho particu lars. If I should not, let them have it, by lioky-’ He shortly afterwards mounted his ox cart, dressed a° one of tho commonest order of Yan kee farmers and was at Bush's tavern, which was in possession of tho British troops. No sooner did the ofllcers espy him thon they be gan to nucslion him ns to his whereabouts, nnd finding liim a perfect simptotqn as they tho’t, they began to quiz, him, and threatened to seize the corn and fodder. ‘How much do you ask for your whole con cern?' asked they. ‘For money sake gentlemen, 1 replied the mock clodhopper, with tlio most deplorable look of entreat}', ‘only let me off, and you shall have my hull team nnd load for nothing ; and if that won't dew, I’ll give you my word I’ll return to morrow, nnd nay you heartily for your kind ness and ronuesconsion.' ‘Well,’said they, ‘we’ll take you at your word. 1/javo the team and provender with us, and we won’t require bail for your appearance. Putnam gave up tho team, and sauntered about for an hour or so, gaining all the infbr mation ho wished. Ho then returned to his men, and told them of the foe, and his plan of attack. The morning came, nnd with it sallied out the gallant hand. The British wore handled with rough hands; and when they surrendered to Gen. Putnam, the clodhopper, ho sarcasti cally remarked; •Gentlemen, I have kept my word. I told you I would call and pay you for your kind ness and condescension. Qijaniuuies.—Knocking at tho wrong door and hesitating whether you shall run away and say nothing about it, or stay and apologize. Crossing tho road until you sco a gig coming one way and a cab another ; so if you move on you aro suro to bo knocked by one, and if you stand still you may bo possibly crushed by both. Finding yourself in a damp bed on a cold night, and cogitating whether you will ho still and catcli your death, or get up and dress, and pass the night on tho two cano bottom chairs. Paying your addresses to a pcnnylcss fair one, under tho impression that she is an heir ess ; and on discovering your error, having the option of marrying Ihu young lady, or being shot by the young lady’a brother. Dining at a friend’s house, where you must cither drink wine until you become intoxicated, or refrain until you become disagreeable. Coming to four cross roads, one of which you must take at random, or just walk back a mile or two ami inquire your way. Being blandly informed by a surgeon that you can either have ypur leg amputated, or leave it alone and die in a fow days. (£7““Tcrrible pressure in tho money mar ket," os tlio mouse said when the keg of specie rolled over him. CARLISLE,: PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 28,1855. BATTERSfiN-THE BOON. What a curious almanac these good people in the moon would have! - There, days arc as long ns years, and day and year arc equal to' our months, 29 daye.i 12 hours and forty-five minutes. The seasons., differ but very little from each other, On tho equator there reigns eternal summer, for the sun is ever in the ze nith the poles arc buried in eternal winter.— The days arc of cqhal length throughout the year, all days equally light, all nights equally dark. The abscncc r of an atmosphere deprives the moon of the swtet charms of a twillight, and glaring day would follow gloomy night with the rapidity oflightcning if the slow ris ing and setting of 1 the sun did not slightly break the suddenneai of the transition. -Hu man eyes, however, .could not hoar the fierce contrasts of light and shadow/; they would long in vain for the soft intervals between the two extremes, the other polors, which beautify our world with their joyous variety and soft har mony. The sky is pot blue, but even in day time black, and by the side of the dazzling sun, the stars claim their place and light in the hea vens. Near the polfs the mountain tops shine in unbroken splcndcfr year after year, but the valleys know ncilhci night nor day, scantily lighted ns they:evcr|arc by the faint glimmer reflected from the surrounding walls. That side of the moon which is turned from us, has a night of nearly fifteen days ; the stars only, and planets, sjiinc on its ever dark sky. The side- wo sec, oh the (contrary, knows no night;-the night lights it up with never ceas ing earth-shine a light fourteen times stronger than that which wo*receive from the moon.— We recognize our own light, lent to our friend, in tKo faint, grayish'glimmer of that portion of the moon which before and after the new moon receives no light froifi the sun, but only from the earth, and reflects it back again upon us. Mornings in Fall show it more brilliant' than evenings in Spring, because in Autumn lliocon tinents of the citrlh with their strongest light illumine the moon, while in Spring she only re ceives a fainter lightdrom our oceans. Our orb appears to the Man in the Moon ps changeable os his home to us, ipd ho might speak of the first or last quarter of the earth, of the new earth and of the full, earth. The whole heaven moves before him once in 20 days around its axis; the sun and stars rise and set regularly once in the long day*;but the vast orb of our earth is nearly iiinnof ca’blc. All around is in unceasing motion; the mild face of the earth alone, a gorgeous moon of immense magnitude, never sets nor rises/but remains ever fixed in the zenith. It ; there sixteen times larger than the moon to us, and daily exhibits its vast panoraumiof oceans, continents and islands. Bright lights and dark shadows arc seen in ever varied change, as land or water, clearings or forestft appear, new with every cloud or fog. and different at different seasons. The Man in the Moon has thus not only his watch and his almanac daily before him in the eve* changing face df the carllf, but no may, for all we know, ham maps of our globe which many a geographer would envy on account of their fullness and accuracy. Long before Col umbus discovered-. America, and Cook, New Holland, our lunaijneighbor knew, jnost cor r ’rccnyiiic'iunu uuu tiKrCotnries in-rncmcw'con tinents. • There wan no new world for him, nnd there is nonc left. Ho could tell us thosccrccts of the interior of Africa, and reveal to .us the toilful mysteries of the Seas. But how ho on his side must marvel at our vast fields of snow, our volcanoes nnd tropical storms and tempests —ho who knows neither fire, nor snow, nor clouds! What strange fables he may have in vented to explain the shadows of our clouds as they chase each other over sea and land, and bide from him in an instant the sun-lit land scape! And stranger still,on the side of the moon which is turned from the earth, ho knows noth ing at all about us, unless news reach him from the happier side. Or ho may undertake—the great event in his lift-—a long and painful jour ney to the bright of his globe, to stare at ! the wondrously brilliant earth-star with its un ’ read mysteries and marvellous changes of flit ling lights and shndojvs. - Who knows what. 1 earnest prayers may r»so from the moon, full of 1 thanks for the floods.of light and heat we pour upon them, or of ardent wishes that their souls 1 might hereafter be allowed to dwell in the 1 bright homes of the beauteous earth star ? Putnam's Monthly. Battle among Brks—Terrible Slaughter 'of Thu Invaders.— Tbq Toledo (0.) Repub lican relates the following rs having occurred, a few days ago, in that county: •‘A new swarm of bees como out of their pa ternal hive and gathered around their young queen, in the warm, sunlight atmosphere. But instead of going to some neighboring tree or shrub, and forming a hanging cluster, aa has invariably been the rule with all predecessors with whom wo have ever been acquainted, they settled on a hive, and began a murderous at tack upon the peaceable inmates. The unsuspected workers were taken by sur prise, and many of them were killed by the in vaders before they became fully aroused, when the conflict became nuito obstinate. The fact that most of the working bees of the hive were out gathering honey, gave the new swarm all the advantage, ami, though the bailie lasted all day. they finally triumphed. Thousands of dead bodies were drugged to the entrance and thrown on the ground each hour. A Fisn Story.— Four clergymen, a Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Roman Catholic, mot by agreement to dine on a fish. Soon as : grace was said, the Catholic rose, armed with knife and fork, and taking about one-third of the fish, comprehending llio luad, removed it to his plate, (exclaiming as down, with great self-satisfaction, “Papa cat caput cede sino” (the Pope is the head of the Church). Im mediately the Methodist minister arose, and helping himself to about one-third ; embracing the tail, seated himself, exclaiming, “Finis cor rnant opus,” (the end crowns the work). The Presbyterian now thought it was time for him to move, and taking the remainder of tho fish to his plate, exclaiming “In meda cst veritas*’ i truth lies between tbo two extremes). Our laptist brother had nothing before him but an empty plate and tho prospect of a slim dinnerj and snatching up tho bowl of drawn (melted) butter, ho dasded it over them all, exclaiming, “Ego baptize vos" (I baptize you all). Lovo Is os necessary to a woman’s heart as o fashionable bonnet to her head. Indeed, we think, rather more so; for nothing less than a largo measure of love will content her,where as the recent fashion has shown that she can bo satisfied with ft very Htth bonnet. It is undoubtedly ft scandalous observation, bat ft modern philosopher has remarked, and wegivo tho aphorism for what it is worth that "Lovo i$ so essential to tho very life of woman, that in cclibccy she is unhappy without ajovor.and after a marriage, if sho is so unfortunate as not to lovo her own husband, she is pretty certain to lovo—somebody elso's!" DC?" ‘Samivcl, bevaro of tho vimmins as reads no poosjmper. Yor father married a roman what read none, an' you’re tho sad kousequius. You’re as higuoraut us an orso.’ [from the New York Herald. J The First Blood—Beginning of the Reaction. The country was shocked yesterday by the news that a temperance -riot Imd broken out at Portland, Maine, and that one man had been killed and several wounded. To the many who supposed that the temperance question was set tled. ended, and laid on the shelf in -Maine,that the liquor dealers had acquicscod.nnd that Neal Dow and his set had everything their own way. it was new and startling to hear that the mili tary had been called out, and muskets and bay onets used to quell a riot to which the liquor law had given rise. To urderstaml the case, a short statement of facts is ncccessary. The first Piohibitory Liquor Law was proposed’ some years ago in Maine by Neal Dow. Accident favored it: po litical parties were disorganized and very bitter in their mutual hatreds: people hardly noticed the liquor bill till it was passed. Neal Dow,its sponsor, was an amiable enthusiast, who had not at that time ripened into the dangerous fa natic we have now to deal with; he enjoyed a large share of public esteem, and tho bill be- < came a law in a great measure owing to his personal guarantee of its success. It failed, of course, os all such laws must. But Neal Dow, whoso heart was being hardened, prepared a new law to obviate the chief inconveniences of the old one, and it was passed. It failed like wise, if anything, more conspicuously than its predecessor. Then Neal Dow, whose heart was thoroughly hardened by this time, and whoso amiability bad been entirely swept away by fanaticism, drafted a third law which he as sured the people of Maine was atlast to achieve the end they all had In view—namely, the pre vention of intemperance—without any of the inconveniences or inconsistencies of the former ones. It was passed in its turn, and it is that law which has led to the bloodshed recorded in another column. When this third law was passed, Neal Dow, who had thrice led his fellow-citizens to legis late against their Inclination in order to carry nut his theory, staked his whole credit on its success. He became Mayor of Portland,where the greatest difficulty was apprehended; he raised a troop of volunteer soldiers, called the Temperance troop, armed them, and held them In readiness to shoot down the opponents of the law; finally, provided a mammoth grog shop, to be called tho “City Agency," where liquor was to bcsold under certain restrictions, said liquor being provided by tho Common Council of the city. These precautions he seemed to consider sufficient to ensure the har monious operation of tho law. Unhappily for his too sanguine hopes, a very few weeks have elapsed before fresh troubles arise. Mr. Neal Dow, tho assailant of rum-sellers, the deadly foe to good liquor, becomes by some unaccount able means, the possessor of SI,GOO worth of the fatal juice of the grape. The people hear of it; a warrant is procured, proceedings are to be instituted under the Maine law against its author. But with the slight of a thorough city politician, before any mischief can bo done, Neal Dow persuades the City Council to buy the liquor for the “Agency;” just as in former times, shrewd alderman used to advise and in- bilT-Ulifl.OCihfltstrip, of land Tor a mnd happening lo have been purchased by the alderman in ques tion a short while before. In Portland, how ever. it seems that people will not submit to this sort of thing. It is loudly asserted that the City Agency is nothing but Mr. Neal Dow’s grogshop; and those who have been prevented from carrying on their own business as liquor dealers, exclaim that Mr. Dow shall not fare any better. Hence a tumult, and crowd, with noise. This was the contingency for which Mr. IJ.cal Dow had nrovidied his Temperance troop. They arc called out, and one man, far from his home, poor fellow, is shot dead, an old gentleman is bayoneted, and other mischief done as related in the telegraphic despatches. Such is the point reached by tho temperance party under its ablest leader in tho oldest State it has controlled. The head of the party is caught dealing in liquor. The people insist on his punishment. And ho, to defend his properly, calls out a partisan body of armed men. who shoot down the crowd. While the fanatics tell us, after this, that the organized opposition that is being made here to the Prohibitory Liquor Law, is a mere mat ter of course, ami that it will bo overcome, ‘.‘as it was in Maim)?" Will they dare to hope that they can enforce in a city of three quarters of a million of people, a law which requires to carry it out in a fifth rate seaport, the assist ance of armed soldiers, and partisan troops?— Will Gov. 'Clark; or Lieut. Gov. Reymond-or ganizg a temperance troop here to shoot down the crowd? The thing is as plain as noonday: the Pro hibitory Liquor Law is a failure in its original b'rth-placo —Maine—and the people see it.— They nave turned it and twisted it: Neal Dow had tried first one plan, then another; he has has everything in his favor, no organized op position, scattered and demoralized political parties, a large country population, a strong desire for temperance, and no large cities; ana now, on tho third trial, the scheme is so com plete a failure that it drives tho citizens to shoot one another in tho street. No one can tell at what moment the quarrel may break out again, and tho streets of Portland flow with blood. K It was fit, after all, that Maine, which has to answer for the birth of prohibitory delusion, should also be tho cradle of tho reaction: Pro vidence often works thus: and if no more lives are losl, tho regret caused by tho bloodshed on Saturday may bo mitigated by tho reflection that tho event teaches a salutary lesson, and that Maine owes tho country some atonement for tho mischief sho has done. As to tlio temperance people in N. Y., wo arc for dealing promptly and energetically with them: It is quite clear that if they arc let a lone, wo too shall have men shot down in the streets, not by ones and twos, but by twenties and fifties, in proportion to tho size of tho place. This must be prevented. We have al ready stated that it can bo done —not by in fringing any law, but by carrying out, accor ding to Us letter and spirit, one of tho oldest principles of tho common law. DC?" Nimrod can you tell mo who was tho first man? "Adam somebody. Ills father wasn’t nobody, and ho never had a mother, on account of tho scarcity of women and tho pres sure of tho times.” (C7* A husband thus announces tho depart, uro from his "bed and board” of bis early bo* loved: "My wife Anna Maria has strayed or been stolen. Whoever returns hop will get his head broke. As for trusting her, anybody can do os ho sees (It; for, as I never nay my own debts, it is not at all likely that I snail pay hers.” DC7" Truth and female beauty do not always go together. Pretty girlrf arc famous for fib bing: while ugly ones run with tho gospel. Tho poets always harness truth and beauty togeth er, but the world jurks them apart. IC7*Few men aro "driven to desperation” without having had a hand themselves in the driving. [.Frvm the Troy Times, June 19.] Sentence of Henrietta Robinson—The "Veiled Murderess.” This afternoon, at ten minutes past thrcco 1 - clock, Mrs. Henrietta Robinson was brought into court by Sheriff Price, to receive the sen tence of the law. The fact that the prisoner was to be senten ced this afternoon had been somewhat noised about town, and in consequence, a large crowd had collected before the opening of the court. Mrs. Robinson entered the court room with a firth, sprightly step, laughing and conversing with the Sheriff, and taking her scat by the side of her counsel. Mr. Pierson, she said com posedly—“ How do you do,Mr. Pierson?" The District Attorney, Mr. Bingham, arose and said : “May it please the Court, I have amotion to make in the matter of Henrietta Robinson, who stands convicted of the murder of Timolhj' I am informed that the prisoner is now in the Court romp, and if it may please the Court, I move that the sentence of the law oow be passed upon her.” Mr. Pierson remarked that he had now noth ing to say against the passing of sentence.— 11c had done for his client all that lay in his power. lie considered that she had been un justly condemned, but the Supremo Court had adjudged otherwise, and ordered this Court to pass sentence upon her. He could do nothing farther for her. He begged leave to inquire what disposition had been made of the motion of the District Attorney, mode on Saturday, last, to amend the record? The court replied that although no order had been entered, ho had concluded to grant the motion of the District Attorney, in the manner desired by Mr. Pierson—.strikin'* out Sheriff Price's affidavit with the other matter. Mr. Pierson then desired that the court should correct a slight clerical error which had been made in the affidavit—st having been da ted the 24th of June, instead of the 2Uh of May. Tho court informed Mr. Pierson that the er ror should be corrected. Mr. Pierson—T have nothing further to say against the passing of sentence. I have ex hausted all my power to save this poor woman. [ considered she should have had a new trial, but the Supreme Court thought otherwise. I have done all in my power to avert her sen tence, without hope of fee or reward of any kind. The Court—Officers will see that the specta tors arc seated. After the confusion which was caused in obeying this order had subsided, Judge Harris said: Mrs. Robinson, have you any objections to removing your veil? Mrs. Robinson threw her veil over her bon net. laughing and conversing meanwhile. The Court—lt is my duty to inform you that the Supreme Court of Albany has denied the application of your counsel for a new trial in your case, and has ordered this court to pro ceed to pass the sentence upon you. Have you anything to say before that sentence is •passed/ .Jtnt nomnson—TesrT have nmcto~w say, but I know I should bo interrupted. Tho Court—You have been convicted of the wilful murder of Timothy Lanagnn. Mrs. Robinson—Yes, but it was upon false evidence. You have all conspired against mo. Shame, Judge, shame! Tho Court —Tho law has proceeded with ft slow but steady step to judgment You have proceeded through its every phase until you have arrived at this condition. You have lost all. To you life is lost—character is gone —friends arc gone. Mrs. Robinson—No, no—not nil. If I thought you would listen to me—but I know yon would not—l would adviso you to abandon this struggle with the world; I would oil vise you to throw off this feigned insanity, and prepare to meet, with true womanly resig nation. tho fate which awaits you. Every thing is lost to you. Life to you is not worth possessing. Honor and virtue arc lost. Mrs. Ilobinson—Don’t trouble yourself a bout that, Judge. I am aware that you would listen to noth , ing from me. I shall, therefore, without fur i thcr remark, proceed to pass sentence ujkjii you. The sentence of this court Is, that yon, Hen rietta Ilobinson. be detained in the county pris on until Uio third day of August next, and that on that day, between the hours of ten o'- clock in the forenoon and two in tho afternoon, you bo hanged by the neck until you are dead, and may God in his infinite mercy save your soul. Mrs. Robinson—You had better pray for your own soul, sir. Mrs. Ilobinson then arose, and was about to say something to the court, when Mrs Pierson desired her to remain quiet. * Mrs. Robinson—Why should I remain qui et 1 What fori lam the victim of a political conspiracy which is calculated to crush an in nocent man. All have deserted mo. Marlin I. Townsend has deserted me. Sheriff Price is a shameless, heartless Mr. Jherson —Bo quiet. The prisoner still kept up a conversation with Mr. Pierson, which wo were unable to hear, merely distinguishing tho name of John C. Mather. Tho audience at this point became greatly excited. The greatest confusion pre vailed. Tbo Court —Tl is particularly desirable that the audience should remain seated. It is to be hoped that no one will follow the prisoner to the carriage. The Shcriir will remove her. Sheriff Price hero asked Mrs. Hobinson to accompany him. She turned and looked sharply at him for a moment—then, drawing her veil over her free, and pointing her linger at Judge Harris, exclaimed, solemnly : “Judge Harris, may the Judge of judges bo i/our Judge.” The prisoner was then conducted from the court room, her face being again covered by the mysterious blue veil. She was, despite the request of tho court, followed to the jail by quite a largo number of spectators. A Brautiftl Ai-.LF.nonY.— A traveller who spent some time in Turkey, relates a beautiful parable, which was told him by a derviso. and which seemed even more beautiful than Stern’s celebrated figure of tho accusing spirit and ro cording angel. ‘Every man,’ says the derviso, •has two angels, one on his right shoulder and the other on his left. When lie does anything good, the angel on his right shoulder writes it down nnd seals it, because what is done is for ever. When ho has done evil, tjjo angel on his left shoulder writes it down. Ho waits till midnight. If before that time tho man bows down his head and exclaims, —'Gracious Al lah! I havo sinned, forgive mol’ tho angel rubs it out; and if not, at midnight ho seals it, and tho angel on tho right shoulder weeps.* HIT* It is a curious fact that, during tho pe riod of ono hundred and thirty-eight years, tho first bom of tho Austrian house lias always been a girl! AT 52.00 PER ANNUM NO, 3. TIIR BKKTBKCB. from Girflllan’s Neio'Gamry qfPmmti. BDBHE ! ASD BIACAIMr. I (/ /. Burko was a natural, Macaulay id an drtfv ficial man. Burke was os original, as. 0n0,.0x the sources of the Nile; Macaulay is a tank of reservoir, brimful of-' waters which have comb from other fountains. Burke’s imagination was_ the strong wing of his strong intellect, and to think and to soar were in general with him the same; Macaulay’s fancy is no more native: to,- him than was the wing of the stripplipg- eper-j ub assumed by Satan, the hero of the‘‘Para dise lost,” although, like it; It Is of many-“a colored plume, spnnklcd with gold. 1 ’ • Macau--’ lay’s intellect is clear; vigorous, and logical ;> but Burke’s was inventivoandsynthetic. .Burko seems always repressing big boundless edge; Macaulay is ostentatious in the display' of In’s. Of Macaulay’s train of thought,.you ' can always predict the end from the beginning:; Burke’s is unexpected and changeful. Macau-, lay’s principal powers are two—enormous ory and pictorial powers; Burke’s are also two —subtle, grasping, interpenetrating intellect) and imagination. Burke is the man of gcplds-j; Macaulay the elaborate artist. - Burke is the crcaturcof impulses and in tuitions—-impetuous, fervid, often imprudent, and violent; Macaulay never commits himself, even by a comma, Pnd seems, If ho has impulses, to have dipped them, in snow, and, if -he has intuitions, to hayq weighed them in scales before they are pnv duccd to his readers. Burke has turned owAy from philosophic speculation to’-practical mut ters—from choice, not necessity; Macaulay, from necessity, not choice—it is an element too. rare for his wing. Burke, as lie says of Rey nolds, descends upon all subjects from above; ; Macaulay labors up to his loftier themes from below. . B.urkc’s digressions are those of uncon- - (reliable power, wanting -in its strength: Macoulny’s arc those of deliberate purpose and elaborate effort, to relieve and make his byways increase the interest of his • Burkb’fl most memorable things arc strong, simple sen tences of wisdom or epithets, each carrying a question on its point, or burning coals from his (laming genius; Macaulay’s are chiefly happy illustrations,-or verbal antitheses, or clever. al- Iterations. Macaulay often seems, and we bo Hevo is, sincere,-but ho is nererjn earnest; Burke, on all higher questions, J>ccomcs a “burning one”—earnest to the brink of frenzy 1 * Macaulay is a utilitarian of a rather low type; Burke is, at least, the bust of an idealist. • TVo defy any one to tell whether Macaulay-bo a Christian or not; Burke’s High Churchism is the lufly buskin in which his fancy loves to tread the neighborhood of tho altar, while before it his heart kneels in lowly reverence. Macau lay’s writings often cloy the mind of his read; it —you arc full to repletion ; from Burke’s you rise unsatisfied, ns from a crumb of ambrosia, or a sip of nectar. Macaulay’s literary enthu siasm has now a far and formal air—it seems an old cloak of college days worn threadbare; Burke’s has about it a fresh and gloss —it is the ever renewed skin of his spirit— Macaulay lies snugly and sweetly Jn the pin fold of a party ; Burke is overhand anon burst ing it to fragments. Macaulay's moral indig nation is 100 labored and antithetical to bo very profound ; Burke’s makes his heart palpitate, his hnnd-clcnch, and his face kindle like that of Moses as became down the Mount. Burke is tho prophet; Macaulay the grown and well fur nished school-boy. ‘ Burke, during his life time, was traduced, misrepresented, or neglect ed, as no British man of his order ever was; be fore or since; Macaulay has been tho spoiled child of a too easy success. As they have reap ed they havesown. Macaulay has written bril liant, popular, and useful works, possessing every quality except original genius, profound insight, or tho highest species of historical truth; Burke, working in an unthankful par liamentary field, has yet dropped from his over flowing hand little living genus of'political, moral, literary, pictqrial, and philosopnio wis dom, which arc striking root downwards, and . bearing fruits upwards throughout tho civilized . world. Macaulay’s works hitherto consist ol i several octavo volumes; but “Liberated Amer- ica.” “India set free from Tyrants,” and “In fidel Franco Repelled,” aro the three.atlas folios whioh we owe to the pen and (lie tongue of Edmund Burke. lUNTS TO HUSBANDS. Do not jest with your wife upon any sub ject in which tbero is danger of wounding her feelings. Remember she treasures every word you utter, though you may never think of it again. Do not speak of some virtue m another man*s wife, to remind your own of a fault. Do not treat your wife with inattention, in company. It touches her pride, and sho will not respect you more or love you better for it. Do not upbraid your wife in the presenen of a third person. The sense of your disregard for her feelings, will prevent her from acknow ledging her fault. Do not entertain your wife with praising the beauty and accomplishments of other women. Do not too often invito your friends to ride, and leave your wife at home. She might sus pect that you esteem others more companion able than herself. If you have a pleasant homo and cheerful wife pass your evenings under your own roof. Do not be stern and silent in your own house, and remarkable for sociability elsewhere. Remember that your wife has os much need of recreation as yourself, and devote a portion, at least of your leisure hours, to such society ami amusement as sho may join.. By so doing you will secure her smiles, and increase her af fection. Do not, hy being too exact in pecuniary mat ters make your wife feel good, her dependence upon your bounty. It tends to lessen her dig nity of character, and docs not increase her es teem for you. If sho is a sensible woman sho will be acquainted with your business and know your income; that sho may regulate her house hold expenses accordingly. Let it bo remem bered that pecuniary matters cause more diffi culty than any other ono cause. Your wife has equal right with yourself to all you possess in tho world : therefore she should be acquaint ed, as near os possible, with that which is of SO great importance to both. Do not withhold this knowledge in order to cover your own ex travagance. Woman has a keen nrcccption: be sure she will discover your selfishness; and though no word is spoken, from that moment her respect is lessened, her confidence ,dimin ished, her pride wounded, and a thousand per haps, unjust, suspicions created. From that moment is your domestic comfort on the wane. Bv" On a clergyman’s horse biting him The horso bit his master ; How caino it to pass? Ho heard the good Pastor Cry, “All flesh is grass.’*' ITT" Alderman Binns being called upon bya> woman in great haste, and indignant at an ex pression made to her, addressed him in.tbo fob lowing terms, via: “Alderman, Mrs. Snooks, my next doOr neighbor, called me a thief; can’t L tuako.hcr. prove it?” «> “Well,” said tho Alderman, after a momontV deliberation, “you may, but 1 think you had, better not.” , » ITT" There is a letter in tho Cleveland Post- Office, directed as follows: - “To the big-faced Butcher, With a largo wart on his noso,. Cleveland, Ohio.” .. I The clerks expect a licking when they deliv er the letter. 4 - O** Harper’s Magazine gels offa good Ibllik, this month: —“Waiter, bring tndsumu .corn* said a boarder, to a green Irish servant., jKoyi?* said Paddy, leaning down, to catch “No, no—coni /” replied the guest, "* ~. *j CT7" Sally Jones saya wbcn bUq' was in love, nliu felt as if klio waa (n iv tunnel,, wjlU- a, [t r l>S u ol cars coming both ways*',,, ’ !t f i
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers