iEBMAKVOIxUNTEER. fbntISUED EVERY lIIDBSDAT KOENINQ BY lobtt B. Ovation.. TERMS.. Dollar and Fifty Cents, Itaid in advance) Two Dollars ;f paid within the L it -, a nd Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not laid within the year. These .teSffis frill ho rig idly adhered to in every instpncoj , No sub scription discontinued, until all arrearages are uniduuless at the option of the Editor. f — Accompanied by the cash, and not exceeding one square, wil) ho inserted throe times for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents !or each additional insertion. Those of a groat tor length in proportion. ■ _ Jon-FniNTiNQ —Such as Hand-hills, Posting bills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c.,&c.j exe cuted with accuracy and at the shortest notice. Ist&te Notice* T ETTEKS of administration, with the will 'l.i annexed, on the estate of Mrs. Sarah Grail', ’dec’d., late of Davis county, Missouri, have boon granted by the subscriber, residing in Carrol township, York county, Pa. AH persons in debted to saidjjsfato are requested to make im mediate payment, and those having claims will present them properly authenticated for set tlement to . • • ABRAHAM FLEMING, Mm’r. jScpVetubcr 2, 1857—Gw* A Hare Chance for a good Investment. HrtHE subscriber intending to leave Carlisle, rJL'wlll sell his whole stock of Hats, Caps, Boots and Shoos, (which is new and good) on adW.pUgeous terms to a responsible purchaser. The business is well established and the stand {lie best in town. Every satisfaction will be |d#.Vastied, to the buyer; and terms made fair. 1 would like to sell as soon as possible. ; J. B. KELLER. Carlisle, Sept.. 9, 1858. 'P. S, S I will still keep a first rate assortment of goods on hand, and sell as cheap as ever to the. day ,of sale.' , Best Family Coal. THE subscribers would respectfully call the attention of the coal consumers of Carlisle and vicinity j and the public generally, lo their superior quality of. Coal, such as . Lyken’s Valley, Broken, Egg, Stove and’ Nut, Luke Fiddler, ' “ “ “ “ Trevor ton, «■ “ “ And the celebrated Lohbery Whiieash, “ ■ Tlieir Yard is situated in the east end of Car lisle, opposite the Gas Works, where they will •keep constantly on hand a large stock of all kinds and sizes of Coal which will be sold as low as any in the Borough. All coal for family . use will ho re screened before delivery and War ranted to give entire satisfaction. Best quality of Zimelmruer’s fy Blacksmith’s ■ Coal always on hand and. at low figures. All orders left at the residence, of James Hof fer. West Pomfret street, at Squire Smith’s , office, South Hanover street, or at the residence of Jacob Shrom, North East street, will bo ptomptly attended to. LUMBER! LUMBER!! Wq are also proparedto furnish all kinds and quality of DRY LUMBER at greatly reduced prices. ... Bills sawed to order and furnished, at the shortest notice. Wo have constantly on hand all kinds and quality of Shingles, such ns White Pine, Hemlock, Chestnut, Oak, and Linn; all kinds of Palling, Plastering Lath, Shingling Lath, Broom Handles, worked Flooring and Weatherhoarding, rough and smooth Rails; Posts, and every article that can be kept in a Lumber Yard. Having cars of our ownweean at all times and at short notice supply any arti cle in our line (if business at low prices. ■ Wo are thankful for past favors and solicit a continuance of public patronage. Our motto is to please. ; , SHROM & HOFFER Carlisle, May 27, 1858. Back Again to the Old Trapc. THE subscriber respectfully- informs the public generally that ho has resumed th'p manufacturing of BOOTS npyoPy ■' and SHOES, in : West Main jr||l SlwsjjjSßa street, a few doors west of T the Railroad of lice, and having a good' assort ment of Leather, Morocco and Trimmings, anu engaged competent workmen, lib is preparedtc make up to measure, every description of work In his line. He has also received from Philadelphia a well selected stock of BOOTS and SHOES, compri sing every variety for Spring and Sumnier wear, which ho otters at low prices. Gentlemen's fine French Cal t Boots, Gentlemen’s Gaiters, Oxford Ties and Brogans, Ladies’ Gaiters, Boots, Bus kins, Slippers and Ties; with a large variety of Boys’ Misses and Children’s, Gaiters, Boots, &c., <S-c. Purchasers are requested to call and examine his stock. ROBERT MOORE. Carlisle, May 20, 1858, CUMBERLAND COUNTY NORMAL SCHOOL. FTtHE second session of this Institution will JL commence in Literary Hall, Nowvillo, Pa., on Tuesday, April 6tb, 1858, and continue five months. An able corps of Instructors have been so* cured, and no effort will ho spared to render the school worthy ot the position it seeks to occu py, and of the patronage it respectfully solicits. For circulars containing full particulars, ad dress, F; A. McKINNEY, Treasurer., - Newville, Pa. By order of the Board of Trustees. Dan’l. Shelly, President. ' Jab. M’Canulisu, Secretary. February 18,1858—tt Blew Coal Yard, AT THE WEST END OF CARLISLE. THE subscriber would respectfully call the attention ot Lime burners and the ciizens of Carlisle, and the surrounding country generally, to his—NEW COAL YARD, attached-- to his Ware House, on West High street, where he will keep constantly on hand a largo supply of file best quality of Coal, to wit: Lykens Valley, Luke'Eidler, Pine Grove, and Treverlon, Broken, Egg and Ngt Coal —screened and dry, all ot which ho pledges himself to'-soll at the lowest possible prices, Best quality of Limebnmer’s and Blacksmith’s Coal always on hand. ' . OTT”" All orders left at the "Ware House, or at his residence in North Hanover street will be promptly attended to. J. W. HENDERSON, Carlisle, April 15,1858—tf Telegraph fodder cutter. The Farmers of Cumberland county are invited to call at our Foundry and Agricultural Imple ment Factory, and examine the celebrated Tele, graph Hay, Straw and. Corn Stock Cutter, manu. factored by T.. H. Wilson & Co., ol Harrisburg. It is worked by hand or horse power, and will fully recommend itself to every former who ex amines its clean and rapid operation in cutting 4(ty, straw or corn stalks. All tbat is asked, is »n examination of the machine. F. GARDNER & CO. • August 12, 1858—6 t J. W. SCOTT, (Late of the firm of Winchester $ Scott.) Gentlemen’s Furnishing Store & Shirt Manufactory. 804 OitESNUT Sthekt, , Nearly opposite the Girard House, Phila. J. W. SCOTT would, respectfully call tlm nt.- . tontlon of his former patrons .and friend’s ro his now Store, and is prepared to All order, for SHHITS at short notice.' A porfoct lit g uar ! antlod. Country trade supplied with flno Shirts and Collars. - , September 28, 1858—ly Notice. ALL persona knowing themselves indebted to tho estate of Monroe Morris, doc’d., are Hereby notified to make immediate payment to MARY M. MORRIS, Adm’rx. Or C. F. HUMRICH, Att’y. Carlisle,. Oot. 7,185b— 3t Ammfan MIO BT JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL. 45. |Wcd. tllEllE GAME AN ANGEL TO MI DOOR. BY UltS. ill.' E. O. ABEY. The frost had-spoiled-tho flowers that-wove Their wreaths about my cot But could not chill the bloom of love, The flower that fadelh not. And though tho autumn winds had reft Tho clustering vinos apart, .1. The-birds that nested there had left - . Their songs within my. heart. But ere the flowers returned to bloom, Know yo' the blessing given ? There came an angel to my homo; " The fairest, out of Heaven: A blessed sprite", with wings concealed, r And.some forgotten name; ■ And eyes whpse holy depths revealed, The Eden whence she came., , Ah mo I tho birds have never trjed . Such songs as charmed my ear; Tho common sunshine dimmed besido This sunshine,,,doubly dear, What carqd l then that wealth should come, . Or fame or wealth be given £ There dwelt an apgel in,my Some';' The fairest out o( heaven. ' ‘ - A tiny, dimpled form of grace, A footfall hero and there. And kisses gushing o’er my face, , And through the glowing air. And now, when o’er the cottage floor ' The common sunshine streams, The form she wore is there once more, She dwclleth in my dreams. , For ere the second summer's bloom Its fragrant freight had given, There went an angel from my home, ' An angel back to Heaven. Ah me! she was an angel blest. Too blight,for earth to claim j A tomb of lovb is in my breast. O’er written with her name; ' A memory of exceeding bliss, ■ A, yearning, cihsbing pain r ; A searching thought of happiness. That will not come again. - Mfethinks those hearts are nearer homo, That have such lessons given; She sees no shadpws in the tomb Who hath a.child in Heaven. . . TUfiiSE BOSES. Just when the red June roses blow, . She gave mo one—a year ago. A rose, whose crimson breast reveal’d The secret that its heart conceal’d. And whose half shy, half tender grace Blush’d back upon the giver’s face." A year ago—a year ago—: To hope was not to know. Just when themed roses blow, I pluck’d her one—a month ago, Its half blown crimson to eclipse; X laid it on her smiling lips; The balmy fragrance of the south Drew sweetness from her sweeter mouth. Swiftly do golden hours creep— To hold is hot tolfeepi ; - The red Juno roses now are past—;' . This very day X broke tbp last, . ; '' And now its perfumed breath is bid, ■ With her, beneath a coffin lid; There will its petals fall apart. And wither on her icy heart: At throe rod rosea’ cost My, world Was gained and lost, ■ ~ ffiimllnnmm SOMETHING FOR BUYS, TUB TIMELY WARNING.—A THRILLING STtfllY. Every boy should read the following story. It possesses an interest which will not be easily forgotten. Read it, my. boy, it will do you good. ’ My father, after ah absence of three years, returned to the house so dear to him. He had made .his last voyage, and rejoiced to have reached a haven ot rest from perils of the sea. During his absence I had grown from a child and baby of my mother’s, (for i was her youn gest) into a rough, careless, and headstrong boy. Her gentle voice no longer restrained me. I was often Wilful and sometimes disobedient. I thought it indicated manly , superiority to be independent of a woman’s influence. My fath er’s return was a fortunate circumstance for me. He soon perceived the spirit of insubordi nation stirring within me. I saw by his man ner that it displeased him, although for a few days he said nothing to me about it. It was an afternoon in October, bright and golden, that my father told me to get my hat and take a walk with him. We turned down a narrow lane "into a fine open field —a favorite play ground for the children m the neighbor hood. After talking cheerfully on different top ics for a while, my father asked me if I observ ed that huge shadow, thrown by a mass of rocks that'stood in the field. I replied that I did. “My father owned this land,’’.said he.. “It was my play ground when a boy. That rock stood there then. To me it was a beacon, and whenever I look at it, I recall a dark spot in my life—nn event so'painful to dwell upon,that if it Were not as a warning to you —I should not speak of it. Listen, then; my deaf boy,and learn- wisdom from your father’s errors. .My father died when I was a mere child. I was the only son. My mother was a gentle, loving woman,.devoted to her children and be loved by everybody.- I remember her pale, beautisul face, her sweet, affectionate smile, her kind and tender voice. In my childhood I lov ed her. intensely. I was never happy apart from her, and she, fearing that ! was becoming too much of a baby, sent me to the high school in the village. After associating a time with rude, rough boys, I lost in a measure, my fond ness for home and my reverence for my moth er ; and it became more and more difficult for her to restrain my impetuous nature. I tho’t it indicated a want of manliness to yield to her authority, or to appear penitent, although I knew that my conduct pained her. The epi thet that I most dreaded was girl boy '. I .could not bear to hear it said by my companions that I was tied to my mothers aporn strings. From a quiet, homo-loving child, 1 sooul became a wild bolstering boy. My dear mother used every persuasion to induce mo to seek happi ness within the precincts ot home. She exer erted herself to make our fireside attractive, and- my sister, following her self-sacrificing ex ample, sought to entice me by planning games and diversions for my entertainment. I saw all this, but did not heed it. “ It was oh an afternoon like this, that I was about leaving the dining-table, to spend the in termission between morning and evening school in the streets ns usual, my (pother laid her hand on my shoulder, and said' mildly but firmly. “My son, I wish you to come with: me.” I would have rebelled, but something in her manner awed mo. She put on her bonnet, and said to mo, “ Wo' will taßo a little walk .together." I followed berm silence; and as I was-passing out of the door, I observed one of my rude companions skulking about the house, and I knew he was wailing for me. He sneer ed aS I went past him. My pride was wound to the quick. He was a very bad boy, but be ing some years older than myself, he exercised a great influence over mo. I followed ray moth er sulkily, till we'reached the spot where we now Stand,' beneath the shadow of this huge rock. Oh, my boy! could that hour bo blot ted from ray memory, which has cast a dark shadow over my whole life, gladly would I ex change all that the world; can offer mo for the quiet peace of mind I should enjoy. But no! like this huge, unsightly pile, stands the mon ument of my guilt forever I “My mother,■ being feeble in health, sat down, and beckoned me to sit beside her. Her look, so full of tender sorrow, is present to me nqw. I would not sit, but continued standing sullenly beside. “ Alfred, my dear son,” said she, “have you lost all love for your mdtherl” I did not reply. “ I fear you have,” she con tinued; “ and may God help you to see your own 1 heart, 1 and me to do my duty!” She then talked do me of my-misdeeds—of the dreadful consequences of the coursfe I tfas pursuing.— By tears, and entreaties, anApraycrs, she tried to make an impression on me. , She placed be fore me the lives and examples, of great and gqdd men; she sought to stimulate my ambi tion. I was moved; but too proud to show it, and remained standing, in dodged silence beside her. I thought, “ What will my companions say, if, after ail my boasting, ! yield at lasf, and submit to be led by a woman ?” “ What agony was visible on my mother’s face when, she saw that 'all she said and suffer ed, failed to move me ! ghe rose to go home, and ! followed at a distance. She spoke ho more to me till we reached our own door. “Ilis school Time now,” she said.- “Go my son, and once more let me beseech you to think upon what I have said. I shan’t go to school,” said I. ‘‘ She looked astonished at my boldness, but replied firmly, “cartainiy you will go, Alfred, I command you.” ; “I will not,” said.l, with a tone of defiance. <• One of the two things you must do; Alfred, either go to school this moment, or I will lock •you in your room, and keep you there till you are ready to promise implicit obedieiico to my wishes in future.” “ I dare you to do: it,” said I, “ you can’t get me up stairs.” - ' , “ Alfred, choose how,’’ said my mother, who laid her hand upon my arm.' She trembled vi olently, and was deadly pale. “Ifyou touch met-will kick you,” said lin a terrible rage. God knows I knew hot what I said. , “ Wili you go Alfred ?.” “ No!” I replied, but quailed before her eyes. “Then follow me,” said she, as she grasped my arm firmly. I raised my foot, and kicked her—my sainted mother! How my head reels'; as the torrcht.of memory rushes over me! I kicked my riiother—a feeble woman—my moth er. She staggered back a few steps aud leaned against the wall. ■ She did not look at me. I saw her heart beat against her breast. “ Oh; heavenly Father, she cried “ forgive him ; he knoWiTnot what he'does "The gardneF JOsf then passed the door, and seeing my mother pale, and almost unable to support herself, he slopped, she beckoned hiiff in. . Take this boy up stairs and lock him in his own room,” said she, and turned from me. Looking back, as she. was entering her room, she gave me such a look—it will forever follow mo. . It was a look of agony; mingled with mlcnsest love—it was the last, unutterable pang from a heart that was broken. . “In a moment I found myself n prisoner in my own room. I thought, for a moment, I could fling myself from the window-, and dash ray brains out, but I felt afraid to die. I was not penitent. At times my heart was sub dued, but my stubborn pride rose in an instant and bade me not yield. The pale face of my mother haunted me. I flung myself on the bed, and fell asleep. ,1 awoke at midnight stif fened by the damp, night air, terrified with frightful dreams. I would have sought my mother at that moment, for I trembled with fear, but my door was fast.. With the day light my terrors were dissipated, and I became bold in'resisting all good impulses. The. ser vant; brought my meals but I. did not taste them, I thought the day would never end.— Just at twilight I heard a light footstep ap proach thedoor. •If was my sister who called me’ by name. v What may I tell mother from you?” she asked. “ Nothing !” I replied. “0, Alfred, for my sake, for all our safces, say that you are sorry. She will forgive you !” “I won’t be driven to school against my will,” I said. “ But you will go If she wishes it, dear Al fred,” said my sister pleadingly. . •.. “ No, I won’t said I, and you. need’nt say a word more about it.” “ Oh, brother, you will kill her, and. then you can never have a happy moment.” ••■“I made no reply-, to this. My feelings were touched, but I still resisted their influence. My sister called me, but I would not ..Answer. I heard her footsteps slowly retreating, and again I flung myself on the bed to pass another wretched and fearful night. 0 God, how fear ful I dftfnot know! “ Another footstep, slow er and feebler than my sister’s disturbed me.— A voice called mo by name. It was my moth er’s. “ Alfred, my son, shall I come in? Are you sorry for what you have done ?” she asked. “ I cannot tell what influence, operating at that moment, made me speak adverse, to my feelings. The gentle voice of my mother that thrilled through me melted the ice from - my:' obdurate heart, and. I longed to throw myself oh her neck, but I did not. No, my boy, I did not.— But my words gave the lie to my heart, when I said I was not sorry. I heard her withdraw. I-heard her groan; T longed to call her back, but I did not. “ I was awakened from an uneasy slumber by hearing my name called loudly, and my sis ter stood by my bedside. “ Get up, Alfred 1 Oh! don’t waitamoment! Get up, and come with mb. Mother iSdyirig !” “ I thought I was dreaming, but I got up mechanically, and followed my sister. On the bed, pale and cool as marble, lay my mother. She had not undressed, but had thrown herself on the bed to best. Arising to go again to ms, she was seized with a palpitation-of the heart, and borne senseless to her room. ‘‘l cannot tell.you my agony as I looked upon her—my remorse was tenfold more hitler from the thought that she would never know it. I be’leved myself to be a murderer. I fell on the bed beside her, I could -not weep» my heart burned in my bosom; my brain was an on fire. My sister threw her arms around mo and wept in silence. Suddenly wc saw a very slight motion of my mother s mouth—and her eyes unclosed. She had recovered consciousness, but no 1 Speech. She looked at me, and moved her lips. I could not understand her words. “ Mother, mother,” I shrieked’, " say only that you for give me." She could not say with her lips, but her band pressed mine. She smiled upon me, and lifted her thin white hands, clasped mine with them, and cast her eyes upward. She “Gtflt OODNtBT— MAT IT ALWAYS BB BtQHi—BDtf BIGHT OB WRONG, OUB COUNTRY.” CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1838. moved her lips in prayer, and thus she died.— I remained still kneeling beside that dear form till my gentle sister removed mo. She comfor ted mo, for she knew, the heavy load of sorrow at my heart: heavier than grief for the loss of a mother •, for it was a load of sorrow for sin;— The joy of youth had left me forever. “ My son, the suffering such memories awa ken must continue os long as life, .God is mer ciful ; hut remorse for past misdeeds is a can ker-worm in the heart, that, preys upon it for ever." My father ceased speaking and buried his face in his bands. He saw and felt the beim ing bis narrative had .upon my character and conduct. I have never forgotten it. Boys who spurn a mother’s control, who arc ashamed to own that they are wrong, who think it man ly to resist her authority, or, yield to her influ ence, beware. Lay not up for yourself bitter memories for yourfuture years. ■ Though the boy who reads this may not have kicked his mother, yet let him think if he has never given his father any unkind words, or been disobedient to their wishes in many ways. Boys . bewa're ? Obey yyuur parents in all things, for God has commanded it; and remem ber, that disobedience to yom parents is sin against God! We don’t like stinginess. We don’t like “ economy” when it comes down to starvation; We have no sympathy with the notion that a poor man should hitch, himself to a post and stand still while the rest oflhe! world moves forward. It is. 00. man’s duty to deny himself of everyVamiftemont',.every luxury, every recre ation. every comfort;'ltbat lie may become rich. It is no man’s-duty, to make an iceberg of him self—to shut his eyes and;ears to the sullcrings of his fellows—and to deny himself the enjoy ment that, results . generous actions—mere ly that he rtay"hoard wealth for bis heirs to quarrel about. : But ■ there is yet an ecopomy which is every man is duty, and which is commendable in the man who struggles with, poyerlk—an economy which is consistent with happiness, and which must bo practiced, if the poor would secure in dependence.' .■■■,-. -/■ It is every man’s prjyilege, and it becomes his duty to live within his means; not up to but within them. Wealth does not make the man, We admit, and should; never be taken into the account in oiir judgment, of. men.. But compe tence should he seeurcd When it can be, and it. almost always can be, by the practice of econo my and aqlfdenial to only a tolerable extent. — It should bo secured, not so much 1 for others to look upon, or to raisdus.in the estimation of others, as to secure the consciousness of inde pendence, and the constant satisfaction that is derived from its acquircment-and possession. We would like to impress this single fact upon the mind of every laboring man who may pe ruse this short article—that it is possible for him to rise above poverty, and that the path to independence, Jwith toils and self sacrifices, is much pitl filer to the . traveler than any one ho can cnierjjpon. ; The man who feels; is earning some? streets with a and.enter bis /home with a much more cheerful countenance tbaa he jrbit spends os he goes, or foils gradu-J oily behind bis necessities in acquiring the I' means of meeting them. Next to the slavery of intemperance there is no slavery on earth, more galling. than' that of poverty and indebtedness. The man who is everybody’s debtqr.is everybody’s slave, and in a much worse condition than ho who serves a single master. For the sake of the present, then, as well as for the sake Of the future, we would most ear nestly urge upon every workingman to live within his means. Let him lay by something every day—if but a penny, be it a penny —it Is better than nothing; infinitely better than running in debt, a penny a day or a penny a week, tf he can earn a dollar Jet him try, fairly and faithfully, the experiment of living on ninety cents. He wilDike it. “People will laugh.” Lot them laugh.— “ They will call me stingy.” Better be called stingy than say you do not pay your debts. — They will wonder why I do not - have better furniture, live in a finer bouse, and attend con certs and play houses.”; Let them wonder for a while, it won’t hurt. them, and.it certainly won’t hurt you. By and by you can have a fine house and fine furniture of your own, and they will wonder again, and, come hilling and cooing around you, like so many , pleased fools. Try the experiment. Live within your means. , O’* Some years ago, a (all, guant, knock kneed, red-headed, cross-eyed Hoosier, who was a hunter of the classical Wabash, conceiv ed the idea of .making a visit to the home of bis progeniture in old Kalmuck. He did so—ran ted round ambnggtthe girls some, and was, of course, from his native impudence and unearth ly ugliness, the !‘observed of alf observers.”— One morning the whole neighborhood was as tonished with the news that the ugly Hoosier" had eloped with Mrs. 8., an amiable, good looking woman, wife of Mr. B. and mother of half a dozen little B.’s. For two long years the disconsolate husband mourned over his unto ward bereavement; at the end of that period, however, to his utter astonishment, in popped Mrs. 8., looking as bright, and rosy as over.— After the first greeting was, over the injured B. thus addressed his truant spouse:—.“ Nancy, how could you lake up with that thar onaifthly ugly. Hoosier, and leave me and tho children all forlorn, as you did?” “Well, Josh,” sa'd Nancy;,‘‘that lhair ugly critter from Indarany was a leetlc the best whistler I ever hern tell on. You know I was always fond of good whistlin’ —I used to think you could whistle some, but I never heerd whistlin’as is whistlin’, until I heerd him. He whistled my senses clean away, and I follered.hitn off on that account.— A short.lime ago, however, he caught the mea sles, and they spilt his* whistlin’ forever—the charm was broken, and so 1 concluded to come back to vou; but 0 Josh! that Hoosier Whs the awfullest whistler that ever puckered!” DC?* The most valuable span of horses in the United States are said to.be owned by Commo dore Vandcrbiltof New Vork. They are match ed horses- They cost him $6,000, and he has been offered $9,000 for them. Singular Caeb.—A cake sent to Elridge, the St. Lawrence county, Ohio, school teaohfcr who cruelly murdered his betrothed, was open ed by the jailor,-and found to contain a nice new razor. ’Spect the fellow wanted a shave. DC?” The Lpusianians recently arranged a slight “ difference” with rifles at twenty paces. Result: two shots, nobody touched, seconds in terposed, amicable adjustment. 0 a Mmimn editor says that ho liked to die larfln, to see'a drnnkin' chap tryin, to pocket the shadow of a swinging sign for a pocket handkerchief. CF* An Indian chief in Carson Valley, says a correspondent of a Stockton paper, has a white woman lor a wife, whom he purchased from a tribe of Camancho Indians', live Within your Means, Boluntfer. Aaron Burr. Randall, in bis life of Jetlerson, vhus describes Burr: “ “Burr possessed much cuhning and much penetration of a particular kind; but, mpst wholly unprincipled men, he ovcrra.ed the pow er of evil. He believed every man and woman had an easy price. He therefore relied on per sonal appliances, and petty intrigue and fines sing, to obtain objects wholly beyond the reach of such means. He baited mouse-traps expec ting to 'catch elephants in them. His liefe-long history is an exemplification of this trait of mind, and it is a life-long roll of failures! In every great crisis of his career we find him with intense cunning in bis look, and mystery in his rapid movements, setting liisliulc-traps. But he was always just wise etiough to be out generaled when he came in contact.wuh a wise, man ; he was always just artful enough to beat himself without any attempts''to be cunning, and by mere force of his abilities,, and a straight-forward life, he might have been far more successful. Ho loved intrigue for itsown sake. There was a fascination 'in it which blinded bis judgment. He was ready to em bark in it, and wassanguine of'sudcess, where a man .of less astuteness, but without his taste for plotting, would have foreseen the certainty of defeat. It takes another trail. to complete the character of a rash aud ready conspirator. He was proverbially in- ensible to danger. He was willing to risk his life to carrry out the most paltry amour. . He was willing to risk it a thousand times in any .desperate effort for for tune and power, rather than glide along smoothly in the current of a common success. When we consider his peculiar character, and, weigh testimony, adduced at his subsequent trial, which was not impeached, or even render ed the subject of a just suspicion, little doubt seems to remain that be contemplated a dis memberment of the Union as a direct result of his enterprise, or rather as a contingent result,, which was to follow, if success ccowued the first branch of the unkertakmg. Two Ways of Correcting a Fault. . Well, Sarah, I declare! you are the worst girl that X know of in the whole country!” “ Why, mother! what have I done I” “See there! how yon have spilled water in my pimtry I Got out of mysight; I cahriot bear to look upon you—you careless girl!” “ Well, mother! X couldn’t help it.” Mrs. A., the mother, Is a very worthy woman,, but very ignorant of the art of family govern ment. Sarah, her daughter, is a heedless girl of about ton years old. She is very much ac customed toremove things out of proper places, and seldom stops to put them in again. On the occasion referred to above, she had been sent to put water into thp teakettle, and had very care lessly’spilled a considerable portion on thc pnnr try floor. After the above conversation, which, on the part of the mother, sounded almost like successive claps of thunder on the oars ol her daughter, Sarah escaped, in a pouting manner, into an adjoining room, and her mother wiped up the slop in tho pantry. . . Weil, thought I, my dear Mrs, A., if that is the.way yod treat ypur daughter, you will pro bably find jf'fieC'essary to wipe; after her a great many tlmeshloro u you'OuirjTivc." SueO’fami ly government as here set forth, seems to mo to hp liable (o ooveral serious objections. The reproof was too boisterous. Children I can never bo fVightoned into a knowledge of error, or into conviction of crime. It is their I judgment, and their taste for neatness and order, which need training, and not their catsl It was too unreasonable. The child was, in deed careless; but she Imd done nothing to merit tho title of « the worst girl in the.country.”— 'Children are sensible of injustice, and very soon find it difficult to respect those who unjustly treat them. It was too passionate. The mother seemed to bo boiling oyer with displeasure and disgust; and, uhder this excitement, sho despised her darling child; the very same that inashorUimo afterward, when tho sterm had blown by, sho was ready to embrace in her arms as almost tho very imago of perfection. It was inefficient. Sarah retired, under the idea that her mother was excited for a very lit. tie thing, which sho could not help. Thus sho blamed her mother and acquitted herself. Mrs. B. is another mother In tho same neigh borhood. Mrs. A. wonders why Mrs. B. has so very good children. Says Mrs. A., « I talk a great deal more to my children than Mrs. B. does. I frequently scold them most severely, and-I sometimes whip them, until I think that they never will disobey mo again. And jet, how noisy, careless and disobedient my children are I Mrs. B. siiys but little to her children, and yet her family moves like clock work.:— Order, neatness and harmony abound, and I never heard of her whipping them at ail.” ’Tis even so I And I should like to tell Mrs. A. the great cause of her failure. Sho has not yet learned to govern herself, and it is not, therefore, surprising that her family ia poorly governed. Mrs. B. has a daughter, Catharine, about (ho same age with tho daughter of Mrs. A. Not long since Catharine committed, In a harry, the samo act at carelessness as above related, and -Mrs. B’s. treatment of it reveals lior secret ol family government. , “ Catharine, my daughter, can yon tell mo how this water came on the floor ?” “ I suppose, mother, I must have spilled it a few moments ago, when I filled tho tea-kettle.” “ Why did yon not wipo it up my daughter/” “ I intended to return and do so; but getting engaged oh something else, I forgot it.” “ Well, ray daughter, when .yon do wrong you should try to repair it to tho best of your ability and as soon as possible. ’■ Get tho mop and wipo it .up, and try not to do so again.”. Catharine immediately does as she is hid, re marking : “ I will try to bo more careful another time.” Mrs. A. may bo found in almost every com munity. Mrs. 8., though, perhaps, a more rare personage, yet graces many families in our land. ’ [CT* A drunken chap, blundering through the darkened hall of his boarding house, was accosted by his landlady to know if ho would have a candle. “ Thunder no !” said he, ‘it’s id cussed dark out here that I couldn’t see if I had eight! DC7* A nobleman having given a grand par ty, his tailor was among the company, and was thus addressed by his lordship: “ My .dear sir. I remember your face, but forgot your name.” The,tailor whispered in a low tone, “I made youf breeches.” The nobleman taking him by the hand, exclaimed: “Major Breeches, f am happy to see you.” DC?*.Mr. Craft, of Wareham, Va., has \>een sentenced to six months imprisomiVcnt at hard 1 labor, for kissing a young lady against her. will. Never mind. Craft, if yon had kissed her with her will; your servitude might have been longer and your labor harder. —Poston Post. K7* “Gone a ducking” is the term used for a young feller in Arkansas, who goes to set up with a young woman. OUT* Why is a hen'pitting on a fence like a cent ? Because she bos' a head on one side, and a tail on the other. AT $2,00 PER ANNUM THE BURNING OF THE AUSTRIA. List to those solemn dirges Which the wild waves sing, While o’er tho rising surges Cries of terror ring j Sec, from the fated barquo Fierce Humes arise, Where on the wafers dark, Helpless she lies. Never again shall they. That trembling band, Clasp friendly hands, that wait, Vainly, on land. Manly hearts, lovely lorms, - Childboodand ago, Midst burning horrors fall, ’ Or from their r.igo Plunging ’neath rolling waves, Soon where the deep , ~ Greets (hem with chill embrace, . Silently sleep. Long in tho distant fatherland Shall fall the biftor tear; A,nd homes shall long he desolate For tlidse who perished here j And o’er them still tho winds that sweep Across tho trackless main, Shall chant a requiem for tho loved Earth ne’er shall see again. [ Boston Traveller. Trade a Fortune. Not many years ago, a Polish lady, of plc bian birth, but of exceeding beauty and accom plishments, won the affections of a young no bleman, who, having her consent, solicited her band from her father, in marriage, and was re fused. Wo may easily imagine tho astonish, ment Of tho young nobleman. •‘Am I not- of sutlioient rank to aspire to your daughter’s'hand ?” i “ Von arc undoubtedly of the best blood of Poland.” " .1 ■ “And my fortune and. reputation, are the; not—” “ Your estate is magnificent, and your con duct irreproachable.” ' ■ ' “ Then having your daughter’s consent, how should I expect a refusal 7” “ This, sir,'is my only child, and her happi. ness is the chief concern of my life. All the possessions ot fortune are precarious; what for tune gives, at her caprice she takes away. ,Isoo no security for the independence and comfort able living of a wife but one, in a wpid, I am resolved 1 that'no one shall bo the husband Of my daughter who is not at the same time a master of a trade!” ■ ' ’ The nobleman bowed, and retired silently.—■ A. year or two after, and' saw approaching tho house, wagons ladenod wjth baskets, and at the head of the cavaloade.a por.son in the dress of a basket-maker! And who do ypu suppose it was. 7 Tho former siiitor of. his daughter; the nobleman had turned basket-maker. Ho was no.w master of a trade, and brought tho wares made ,hy his own' hands for inspection, and a cortilicato from his employer in testimony of his skill. . ' ; Tho condition being fulfilled, no farther ob stacle was opposed to the marriage. But the stoi'y is not yet done, ■ Tho Revolution came, fortunes were plundered, and lords were scat, tored as chaff before the lour winds ot heaven. Kings became begftirs, some of them teachers, the' )!is wifoy and her father in the infirmities Of ago,' by his tmstmt making. , ' . ’ • ■ ■ " Stupidities. Walking along the street with-the point of an umbrella sticking out behind, under the arm or over the shoulder. By suddenly stopping to speak to a friend or othei* cause, a person wal king in the rear hud his brain penetrated thio’ the eye, in one of our streets, and, died ia a few days. . Stepping into a church aisle after dismission, and standing to converse witli others, or to al low occupants of the pew to pass out and be fore,.for the courtesy ot precedence, at the ex pense of a greater boorishness to those behind. To carry a long pencil in vest or outside coat-pocket j not long since, a clerk in Now y prk fell, and the long cedar pencil so pierced an important artery, that it had to bo cut down upon from the ,top of tho shoulder, to prevent his bleeding to death, with a three months’ ill ness. To take exercise or walk'for tho health, when every step is a drag, and instinct urges to re pose. To guzzle down glass after glass of cold wa ter, on getting up in tho morning, without any tooling of thirst, under the impression of tho health-giving nature of its washing out quali ties. ' * To sit down tb a tpblo and “force” yourself to eat when there is not only no appetite, but a positive aversion to food. To take a glass of soda, or toddy, or sanga roe, or mint drops, on a summer day, under tho belief that it is safer and bettor than q glass of cold water. To economize time, by robbing yourself of necessary sleep, on tho ground that an hour saved from sleep is an hour gained for life, when in reality it is two hours actually lost, and half a dozen other hours actually spoiled . Journal of Health. , . A Disputed Question/— ‘An old topcf after indulgiug quite freely in his accustomed bever age, amused himself in teasing a mettlesome horse. - The animal, not fancying his familiuri ties, suddenly reared, and the disciple of Bao chus found himself sprawling in an adjacent mud puddle. Gathering himself up as compos edly as his situation would allow; he shouted to his son johh who was standing by ; “John, did you see me kick that ’ere boss 1" “Why, no, dad, the boss kicked you I” “Reckon not, John. One or t’other of us got badly hoisted. - ’Taint vie, John, for. I am here!’’ Looking fob the Head of the Bed. —Every one has observed that dogs, before they lie down, turn round and round, several times. Those who have had an opportunity of witnessing the action of animals in a wild slate, know that they seek long grass for their beds, which they beat down and render more commodious, by turning it In several times. It would appear, therefore, that the habit of our domestic dogs, in this re. spect, is derived from the nature ot the same species in a wild state. Swapping Wives.— The Danville (Va.) Tran script says : A friend informs ua that an occur rence in Patrick county came to his knowledge, a few days since, which wo consider decidedly rich. Two of the citizens ot that go-a-head State, having each about a half dozen children, concluded to make a swap of an. unheard of character. One proposed to exchange wives, but the other thinking his wife the most likely woman, said bo must have something to boot. It was finally agreed that the duo should give the other two and u I’idtf bushels 6f potatoes', and the swap was made. Tale Coleeoe. — ln the year 1700 ten cleffcr. men met' at Branford, each one bringing a few books under Ills arm. Placing fhose on the fa. bio, in Parson Russell’s study, each said sol emnly : “ I give those books for the founding of a college in this' colony. A century and a half have gone by, and Tale College counts its graduates by thousands, and this was its foun dation. , - ' yy Cato says “ tho best way to keep good acts iu memory is to refresh thenf With new." arc disappearing, it is time to think about mak ing sausages j bonce we present the following of making them, from a noted cook: Pour Sausages There oro many receipts for the making of pork sausages. Several coun ties have their own peculiar receipts, the peon, iiarily in their sausage’s being the quantity and variety ol herbs which they Introduce, the pre valence of some particular one giving the fla. vor, as well as the peculiarity to each. The presence ol so mapy -herbs is, however, not al ways considered an agreeable feature; and many palates are offended uf that which forms to others the great merit, the following is a very . simple receipt: Take of the fat of pork one pound, tbpt of the loin df a largo, richly fed pig, or the inward fat of a small one; chop it.flrioly with half aponnd of loan pork,; add to it fpur or live sago leaves finely chopped, some lemon, thymo in a Small < quantity, and .thfoo dessert spoonfuls ol crumbs of bread powdered. Bo careful not to pht too much of the latter, ns it tends to turn the sausa ges sour if kept. Amalgamate these ingredients well; dusfon grated-nutmeg, mace, and cloves in powder, and finish with black pepper and salt, being sure to season well; the meat nrajr then bo put into the skins, or may bo, jpltf,)p jars covered down from the air, to bo used for rolls, or stuffing, or any required purpose. All skiu must bo pared from the fat before chopping, and every sinew removed front- 11)0 loan pork, as well as any bohe, or anything which may impair tiro taste when eaten. Another Way. —To a couple of pounds of lean pork, young, white,' and delicate, put throe quarters of a pound of minced hoof suet; tho pork must first bo dropped very flno; and throe dessert spoonfuits of bread which has boon dip ped in Port wine, dried, and -grated (Ino; work it together with lire yolks of three eggs smooth ly beaten; season it with pepper and salt, and dried sago; a very little cayenne may bo intro duced, and a very small piece of garlic i worlc tire whole well together in a mortar until it forms a paste; it may, then ho put into Wide skins, or pressed down into Jars tor future use.; it is cut into sqtiavo pieces dredged with flour, fried in fresh butter, and sent to table on a toast as a breakfast dish. ■ m 19. Another Way.— Chop particularly, fine about two or throe pounds of lean pork, and an equal quantity of fat; have ready some sage, cither dry or green, either passed, tlirougb a.sieve, or chopped very fine, a small piece of shallot, d few grains of ground cloves j season it with pop per and salt; mix a (ew fine bread crumbs up with it; have your skins ready cleaned, then till them;.or it"preferred, roll into balls, and,fry. them; you will tie them tho length you wish tho sausages to be ; prick tho skins with a fork be fore you fry them; you may do them in tho ovod if it should bo hot. Another IPuy.—Chop tho pork as before; onljt add half tho quantity of lean veal, a pound of subt chopped equally fine; have ready a' French roil soaked in milk, hut so crust; season it well with pepper and suit; mix it all well toge ther. ' Another Way. —Chop pork as before, and an equal quantity of fat, and the quantity of lean veal, and the same of suet, and two or'throe' handfulls of bread-crumbs; have ready, a foW" sago leaves, a few of knotted marjoram, and one shallot; pound all well together; season with white popper and salt; cither put them in skins or roll them* and fry them as above. ■ K 7” “ X declare,” said Mrs. Partington, as . Miss Waggles, the daughter of tho green grocer/' looked in upon her In the full feather of. extreme fashion, “ you look as though ypu.had just como out of the upper drawer, and ambit as sweet,ag; the balm of Gilod.” Miss Waggles smiled/, smoothed down her sfiff silk, just' bought,’and” tossed her bead daintily, on the back of which' hung tho now bonnet that she had come in on purpose. to show! “ Does that calico wash, dear?” asked tho old lady without taking her 1 spectacles from her forehead. Sira did not see the blush that suffused the Waggles, as the green grocer’s daughter informed her that it was silk. “Dear mo!” declaimed she; taking.bold of it, “so it is; how well you have kept it. It looks as good as now. If some girls had worn it, it would have all been in rags before now.— How long is it, dear, since it was dyed anti turned 7” “It is now,” said Miss Waggles, suppressing a hoop and extending a spiteful feeling at tho^giquo, time. “Is It, Indeed 7” ro- ’ sponded tho amiable dame; “well, my visionary organs do deceive mo'ao, that I believe that I am growing noar-'slgntdd; bUtaro you going'td have a new bonnet Jortnateh t” ■ This was put-' ting the'agoiiy'on too thick; it was tho grain t hat - broke the back .of tho camel. Miss Wag. glos remembered that she bad a sudden engage ment, and rose to go, and a strange smile' play ed around the mouth of Mrs. Partington, ad Miss Waggles sailed out of the door, like q lindr of-battlc-ship. Ike watched her and thought what fun it would bo to see her go up. A High Socled. Beggar. —Tho other day a ladj gave a woman a couple of pennies. “Two cents!” exclaimed she, “Take them back, Mias—l asked for charity-T can’t do any thing with’ two cents.” “My dear Madam,” said tile, polite donor, “ I hope you will keep tho pennies and give them to some poor per. soil.” The beggar sloped 1 Men forget that many a privation has a hidden joy. As the flower blooms under the leaf shadow is'sometimes shelter. rp=lf a man has no design but. to spqqk plain truth, he may say a great deal in a .try narrow compass. OS’* Vegetation is so scarce at Capo Cod, ■ Mass., that two niullcn stalks and a huckleberry bush are called a grove, D3* Wheeling people call things by their right names. Whiskey is familiarly known as ■< Busthoad” and Ginger Pop as “ Ratilebefly Pop.” , ’ B 3” Found—ninety-five dolldrs, by a lawyer in Lowell, who 'returned it to tho owner. One of flic papers says, “the act may behonest and honorable, but is unprofessional.” 03* Young ladies should not write poetical love letters. It is dangerous. Such a one was written to a Kentucky beau, not long since, which so cfiected.him that be stole a horse to go; and see the writer, and got in jail to pay for jot ting in love wilh a poetess. 1 03*“Why is a young lady preparatory to, dressing in her crinoline, like a-flour barrel Because the hoops will have to be raised before the head will go in. . D3* a dying west India planter, groaning to his favorite negro servant, sighed out. “Ah Sambo I’m going a long journey.”, “Never mind massa,” said the negro, consolingly, “hint all de way down hjll. 03” The British flag was hoisted on' Capitol Hill, Washington, on Tuesday week, for the first time since tho last war with England. 'BIT* Why is a philanthropist like an bid horse? Because he always stops at the sound of woe. K7* A young poet out West, in describing heaven, says, “ it is a world of bliss, fenced in with girfs." XT' The best bite we over had when wc went fishing,’ was tho bite we took along. [CT'lt is iu vain to stick your finger in tW ter, and after pulling |t out, look fpr the hole. (CP Idolatry, in all its forms, is but tho abuse of a truth so deeply lodged in the soul of a man that it cannot be eradicated. «*. . , The best way to treat slander is to let.ft alone and say nothing about it. It soon dies when fed on silent contempt. XT’ There is no occasion to tramp on tho • meanest reptile, nor to sneak to the greatest prince. Insolence and baseness arc equally uu* manly. How do my customers lifco the milk I sell them.” “ Oh, they all think it ol the first wafer.” A father Called his son idtd a crowded stage —“Bcn-jam-in!" XT' Whatever you may choose to give away, always, bo sure you keep your teitipcr. XT' Southerners in New York are thick jxa blackberries. They arc Waitifag to hear of a' ’frost bclorc returning Mine. Sansages.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers