JuiiASnEfc hWe6.Y ftronsDAv hoenibo by johu B. Bratton. TERMS. Subscription. —One Dollar and %%s>’s»> feaW ia advance; Two Dollars if paid within the Sear- hnd Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not Bald within the year. Those terms will be rig idly adhered to in every instance. No sub lorbitton discontinued until all arrearages are Baia unless at the option of the Editor. ■ Ad veetisemenxs— Accompanied by the case, 'ind not exceeding one square, will bo inserted Wee times for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents lor each additional insertion. Those of agreat ter length in proportion. ■ Jon-PiuNTisa —Such as Hand-bills, Posting hills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &0.,&c., exe cuted with accuracy and at. the shortest notice. the motherless. God help and shield the motherless, The stricken, bleeding dove— , For whom there gushes no rich fount Of deep and deathless love j The saddest title grief confers, For who so sad as they, Upon whose path a mother’s love Sheds not its holy ray. No gentle form above them bends, To. Soothe the couch of pain— No voice so fond .as her’s essays To calm the feverish brain. Oh, other tongues may whisper love, In accents soft and mild, Bnt none on earth so pure as that A mother boars a child. Judge kindly of the motherless— A weary lot is theirs, And oft the gayest seems, A load of sorrow bears. No faithful voice directs their steps, Or bids them onward press, ti And if they gang a konnin’ wrang, , God help the motherless! ■ And when the sinful and the frail. The tempted and the trie<}> Unspotted one, shall cross thy path, Oh, spurn them not aside. Thou knoivest not what thou bada’t been With trials even less, And when thy lips would vent reproach, Think they were motherless. A blessing on the motherless, Where’er they dwell on earth— Within the home of childhood, Or at the stranger’s hearth j Bllio be the sky above their heads. And bright the sun within ; Oh, God protect the motherless, And keep them fresh trom sin. THE KIND OLD FRIENDLY FEELINGS. The kind old friendly feelings I , Wo have their spirit yet, . Tho’ years and years have passed, old menu, Since thou and X last mot! And something of gray Time’s advance Seems in thy fading eye. Yet, ’tis the same good honest glance I loved in times gone bf— Ere the kind old friendly feelings Had ever brought one sigh ! Tho warin old friendly feelings ! Ah, vviio need yet be told, No other-links can bind the heart Like those iqved links of old! The hand I joyed in youth to clasp. The touch Of age may show, Yet ’tis tho same true, hearty grasp I loved so long ago— Ero the last-old friendly feelings 1 .Had taught one tear to flow. The kind old friendly feelings! Oh, Bccm.tboy e’er'less dear, ... ■Because some recollections- ■ *, May meet tis with a tear T i Though hopes we shared—tho early beams Ambition showed our way— ( . Have fled, dear triend, like morning drojtms. Before Truth’s searching ray— Still we’ve kept the kind old feelings - That blessed our youthful day! HtsallamousL Decorating the Grave, There is a kiud of pathos and touching ten derncss of expression ip these sweet and fra grant emblems of affection, which language cannot reach, and which is calculated to per petuate a kind of soothing sympathy between the living and the dead. They speak of cords of life too strong for even the grave to break asunder; This practice no doubt gave rise to the ancient custom which prevailed m the cast of burying in gardens, and is one which condu ces to the gratification of the best feelings of our nature.. It prevailed generally in, and about the Holy City, and among, the Modes, Persians, Grecians, and Romans. ine ter sians adopted it from the Medes, the Grecians from the Persians. In Rome, persons of . dis tinction were buried in gardens or fields near the public roads. Their monuments were de corated with balsams, and garlands.ot flowers. The tomb of Achilles was decorated with ama rath; the urn of Philbpemoen .was covered ' with chaplets; the grave of Sophocles with ro ses and ivy; Anadreon with ivy and flowers. Baskets of lillies, violets and roses, were placed in the grave of husbands and wives—white ro ses on unmarried females. In Java the inhabi tants scatter flowers over the bodies" of their friends: in China the custom of planting flow ers on the graves of their friends is,of very an cient date, and still prevails. In Tripoli thej tombs are decorated with garlands of roses, ot Arabia, jusmim, and orange and myrtle flower. In Schwytz, - a village in Switzerland, there is a beautiful little church yard, in which almost every grave is covered with pinks* In the ele* cant church yard in Wirfln. in the valley of Salza, in Germany, the graves are covered with oblong boxes, which are planted with permmal shrubs or renewed with annual flowers ; and others are so dressed on/c(e days. Suspended from the ornaments of cent graves are vessels filled with water, in which the flowers are pre served fresh. Children arc often seen thus dressing the graves of their mothers, and mo thers wreathing garlands for their children. A late traveller, on going early in the morning into one of the graveyards in the village of Wir fin saw six or seven persons decorating the craves of their friends, and of some who had I I Juried twenty years. This custom also Prevails id Scotland, and in North and South , & An epitaph there says: „mhe Village maidens to her grave shall bring The fragrant garland each returning spring. sweets! in emblem of the maid, . l/ghtfundcrneath this hallowed turf is laid. Tn Wales, childfon-havo snow-drops, violets. Primroses, hazel-bloom and swallow-blossoms their craves. Persons of mature years, tan ° box, ivy and rue. In South Wales, no flowers or evergreen are permitted to be planted on graves but those that are sweet scented. Pinks, polyanthus, sweet-williams, gilly-flow ers, camomile, and rosemary are used. In Capul. burying-grounds are held in vene- fy ■.' m' ration, a'nd were called "Cities of the silent.” The Jews called them "Houses of the Dead." The Egy ptiaas visited the graves of their friends twice a week, and strewed sweet basil on them, Apd to this day. , . While the custom of decorating graves and grave yards with flowers and ornamental trees and shrubs has prevailed so long and exten sively among ancient and modern 1 civilized na tions. some of the American aboriginals will not permit a weed or blade of grass, nor any other vegetable, to grow on the graves of their friends. 0“ Men are like weathercocks, which arc never constant or fixed but when they are worn out er rusty. Am c ri rans| Bolantc ft ' ~ ' ’ iQ PER ANNUM BY JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL. 45. Some of the Uses of Marriage. One of the London Magazines has the .follow ing sensible observations upon the economy of matrimony: In return for whatever you may have done for -your wife, from what a complicated slavery does she deliver you. Only make'the enumera tion. From the slavery of baseness : If y ou have happiness beside your heart, you will not go in the'evening to court love under the smoky lambs of a dancing room, and to find drunken ness in the street. From the slavery of weak ness: You will not drag your limbs along, like -your sad acquaintance, that pale, worn out, bloated, young old man. From the slavery of melancholy: He who is strong and does a man s wor [ c he w ho goes out to labor and leaves at home a cherished soul who loves him—will from that sole circumstance have a cheerful heart and be merry all day. From the slavery of money: Treasure this very exact, arithmetical maxim, “ Two persons spend less than one.” Many bachelors remain as they are in alarm at the expense of married life, but who spend indefinitely more. They live very .dreary at the cafe and restaurateur's, very dearly at the I theatre. The Havana cigar alone, smoked all day long, is an outlay of itself. But if your wife has no female friends, whose rivalry trou bles her, and excites her to dress, she spends nothing. She reduces all your expenses to such a degree, that the .calculation just given is any thing but just. It should not have been “ two people.” but ‘ four people spend less than one. 1 ’ ’ When a marriage is reasonable, contracted with foresight, when the family does not in crease, too fast, a wife, far from being an obsta cle to liberty of movement; is, on the contrary, its natural and essential condition.. Why does the Englishman emigrate so easily, and so ben eficially for England herself? Because his wife follows him.. Except in devouring cli mates, such as India, it may be asserted that the English woman has sown the whole earth with solid English colonies. The force of Fa mily has created the force and the greatness ol the country. With a good wife ,and a good trade, a young man is free to leave his home, or to remain. It must be a trade,(gnd not an act of luxury.— Have such an art iiilo the bargain, if you. like; but the first necessity is to be tho master of on# of the arts that are useful to all. The man who loves and wishes to maintain his wife, will hardly waste his time in drawing the precise line between art and trade ; a line which is fic titious in reality. Who cannot see that the ma jority of trades, if traced to their principle, are real branches of an art ? The bootmaker’s and the tailor’s trades make a close approach to sculpture. A tailor who appreciates, models, and rectifies nature, is worth three classic sculp tors. - . How Foot Young Hen may Succeed. Young man are you poor and without the ; means of splurging in life, as you'launch upon its billows { Is your father poor and unable to give you an outfit? Bo not disheartened on account of all this. Take earnest/hold: of life, and' never- regard yourself in any other light than that of being destined to a high and noble purpose. Studyciosely the bend of your own mind for labor or a profession. Whatever you resolve upon, do it early; follow-it steadily an.d untiring; never look'backward to-what you have-encountered, but always forward to what is within your grasp. The world owes every man a comfortable living, and a respectable po sition in,society ; means are abundant to every man’s success; and men have only to adopt will and action to them. To repine over a want of money and proper ty, to start out in the world with, and over the want of the props of influential relatives, is un manly. Let a young man strive to create a fortune rather than seek to inherit one. It is an ignoble spirit that, leads a young man to borrow instead of bequeathing means. Go forth into the world, young man, conscious of God within you, and his providence over you, and fight your own way to distinction to honor and to comfort. Pity m your inmost soul the young man who. without any charge is unable to support himself, and is whining around, and begging the influence of others, to get him into employment! Feel, under all circumstances, that it is more noble, more honorable.to cat the crust you have, earned, than to. flourish with coppers inherited.- You may lift your head proudly to' face and confront the noblest among us, when you are conscious of being the archi tect of your own fortune; Young man are yon poor? .Be honest, be virtuous, be industrious; hold lip your bead, and say by your actions and looks, what the poet has said in woras. «. I scorn the man who boasts his birth, And boasts his titles and his lands, Who takes his name and heritage From out a father’s dying hands. Female Conversation. Every woman, and every young lady, whoso heart and mind have been properly regulated, is capable of exerting a salutary influence oyer the gentleman with whom she associate—a fact which has been acknowledged by the best and wisest of men, and seldom disputed except by those whose capacities of judging have been singularly perverted. A young lady should al ways seek to converse with gentlemen into whose society she may be introduced, with dig nified delicacy and simplicity, which will efleo tually check, ou their part, any attempt at fa miliarity : but never should anything be said or done that may lead thein to suppose that any attempt is being made to solicit their notice. — An instance can scarcely bo recalled of a lady, either by direct or indirect means, attempting to storm a man's heart into admiration, who did not thus effectually defeat her purpose. If a gentleman approaches a lady with thi words, of flattery, and with profuse attention especially after a short acquaintance, no encou raging smiles or words should be extended —for a flatterer can never be otherwise than an un profitable companion. It is. better, by a be coming composure, to pass unnoticed, than with smiles and blushes, to disclaim flattery, since these are frequently considered—as they are too often intended—as encouragement for the further effusions of those “ painted words.” Such delicate attentions as well bred and refined gentlemen are desirous of paying may bo accep ted. but they should never be expected. Cincinnati Gazette. Goon Bte.—This simple word is very com roon, but yet it is lull of solemn and tender meaning. How many emotions cluster around that word. How full of sadness, and to many how full of sorrow it often sounds. A short time since wo heard this parting word exchang ed as it is ap t to bo spoken by those who Jove. <• Good bye!” said a young man, as he passed his manly arm around a young and beauUlul girl, and pressed his lips to hers, saying." rou can expect mo in a week.” The day came, but he came not. The next day brought n letter from a strange hand, which contained the sad news uf his death. The Washington Union calls the rebell ious democrats in Pennsylvania, under the lead ,of Forney, “ political vagrants'.” Romance and Cbicken Stealing—A Lore Plot Prostrated—Almost Another Jadson Elope ment. ' A chicken stealing case came up before Jus tice Purdy yesterday, which exceeds anything we hare ever met with in the queer denouements and revelations attached to it. The defendants were a couple of darkies from Canada, named John Elton and Abraham Davis, the latter only being in Court. These nosed about the alleys until they discovered a fine lot of chickens in the coOp of Mr. ■, (wo shall withhold his name upon second thought, as we received at least seven hundred and fifty earnest requests to that effect,) and resolved upon their immedi ate appropriation. They accordingly repaired to fhe premises, night before last and bagged every chick in the, coop, having first taken the ; precaution to wring all their necks. Having seen them safely through this operation, we are obliged to leave them for a short time to bring np the other necessary characters in this adven ture. The gentleman who claimed the ownership over the chicken coop also had a daughter. Susan was what is known among sedate circles as wild : that is to say, she was put up in all manner of .diablerie, without any regard to what people would say about it. She was also bright and lovely, sweet as a peach, if we may be allowed to give the result of our bbserva tions.. The sparkle of her eye danced all around the room, and a lurking mischief played in the corners of her mouth, which made us think she was dying for an opportunity to stick pins into the court, out of a pure wantonness of mockery at its solemn judicial gravity. She had a lover, of course —one Herbert Andres—who suited her fancy to a nicety, but did not please the old folks for some reason or other. He was a dare devil fellow, which made her love him and they always went hand in hand in their frolicking efforts to make the gossips croak—nobody knows that they did any harm either, but peo ple will talk. It got to that finally that they were obliged to take a decisive step, and cither quit or marryT The old folks would not listen to marrying, so they concluded in their wise head to elope. This was not so easy though, as they were watched ; but Susan overcame all difficulties by a proposition to climb out of her window, and run away with her lover while the folks, were fast asleep. j This was accordingly settled upon, and on the very night the chickens were stolen the mo- ] mentous feat was to have been accomplished, j The young gentleman packed up his duds and had everything ready, at the appointed hour was under the window of his lady-love, who carefully hoisted the sash and let down a rope made of the ijieets, the upper end of which was fastened to the bed-post. She laughed merrily as she balanced herself on the window-sill, and told her lover to catch her if she fell and broke her ndek. The modern institution of hoops washot at all conducive to ease or grace in feats of slack rope performing, in view of which, she judiciously commanded her gallant to turn his head away while she descended through the bright moonlight. Taking a dextrous twist of the rope around her. anljles.and clasping-dt tightly, she then commenced sliding downward, wh?n, as she accomplished about half the dis tance, a new actor was introduced in the per son of Abraham, who came around the. corner of the house with a bagpf chickens on his Back. The sound of his approach interrupted the young gentleman, who was busy disobeying the commands of'his mistress in regard to look ing at the barn-door: and at 100 first sight of a man he.bolted for the fence, supposing thatit could be no other than his . intended father-in law, with a tremendous club on his shoulder. Susan heard the clatter of his feet as he dis appeared down the alley I looked the other way and saw the darkey ; hung suspended a mo ment in agonizing suspense, and then resorted to woman’s last resource, and gave a screech that would have awakened the dead, much more her watchful papa. She then made a desperate effort to climb up, hut found it per fectly impossible, and immediately came down with a run. The darkey meantime stood transfixed. The last thing he expected to see when he turned the corner, was n young lady dangling in mid-air, with colors flying and drum-sticks kicking out in all directions, and he quite forgot himself, until as the youthful gymnast struck the ground with a concussion, he was seized by the indignant father, and laid out full length by a blow. Miss Susan lost no time in making tracks for her chamber and celling into bed. Abraham was biought m and questioned, it -being strongly suspected that the young lady was about perpetrating another Judson elopement. She was pulled out of bed and confronted with the sable victim, and who being scared almost to death said nothing. , . , ~ The old lady went into hysterics, and said that if it had only been a white man—even that detestable little rascal, Herbert—she wouldn t have cared, but to go and disgrace the family by running away with a nigger, and him gray headed, was beyond endurance. The father got his revolver, and sworo he would blow the nigger’s brains out on the spot, and fairly made him get down on his knees to say his prayers, lie would have no nigger son-in-law to get him in the papers for an amalgamationist, and. had already cocked his pistol to do the fatal deed, when the poor darkey found his tongue, and in his incoherent sentences explained, pointing to his bag of chickens ns evidence. The light finally dawned upon the minds of the old folks, who, overjoyed at the denouement, packed off Susan to bed and sent Abraham to jail. John had meantime escaped, and when his, comrade was brought down for trial, the whole thing leaked out. as things will, when items-men are about. Abraham went up impressed with a devout feeling of thankfulness that he had his skin whole after the imminent peril in whichhe had been placed.—Detroit Free Press. 10 ■ A Happy Childhood. —A happy childhood is a precious Inheritance. It you can give your children nothing more, not ono penny ot world ly wealth, only the education of the common schools, only poor olqUjjs and plain comforts, dry and secure them at least a happy childhood. It will bo to them a wealth of memories to sub. tain and cheer them in all the struggles of a toilsome life. It will remain with them, the ono bright spot, growing brighter l even as they re cede from it, through all the vicissitudes of the saddest lot, or the prosperous changes of the happiest ono. Maturity under-estimates both the joys and the sorrows of childhood. Amid the more im portant events of adult years and approaching ago, it forgets how profound were'the regrets, how keen the disappointments, how intense the enjoyments of early years. These should not bo forgotten, but remembered, but remembered, that the memory may stimulate us to minister to the highest welfare of the little beings en trusted to our.care. Even in boyhood there are enough unavoidable pains and sorrows. Lot it be our care to make the path trod by tiny foot as bright as the sunshine of a cheerful heart and happy homo can render it. A spirit premature ly weighed down by sorrow, or rendered gloomy and distrustful by injustice, is illy fitted to cope with the world j and early soured and embitter ed it will carry with it all through life a repel lant atmosphere and will almost surely fall to secure the affection and sympathy of its fellows —the only remedy lor its painful and. morbid •condition. ■“our count nr—mat it alwatsdß nionr,—but mgiit or wrong, our country CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, APR: Study Elegance 01. Among other rules which a father submitted to his guidance ■’life was that which. heads this paragraph. Unfortunately, few of us take the trouble to espies ourselves in well j constructed sentences, and jit is quite as easy to use'correct as it is .to -.use incorrect words when we desire to give form* to our emotions. How often do we’ hear'.'persons, who cannot p'ead ignorance as an excuse, for their derilic tions, declare, when they. iro that they “are tired to : death.f CjThis expresnon— which is meant to he forcible- —is not only vul gar but impotent, inasmuch*hs it does not con vey what the utterer intendf • How often do ladies declare with uplifted hands that they are ••frightened to death ;” or;rrf . their shoes are large for their feet, ‘.’ they psfli mile 100 long; or their hata aro “a world'toi)large.” Wo might fill a columtfyivith the inelegant phrases which are beard in alljclosscs of society. It is a pity that, the English .konguo should he thus prostituted. Were' it ,a language from which it would be difficult tQ cull words ex press our feelings or .cbfltty our ideas, there would be some excuse for what we may with propriety denounce as ■• ‘unlicensed ■ vulgarity, but as it is.cxcecd.ngly copious—full of beau tiful words, of words conveyed from a thousand fountains to the ••Well of English undeilled, there is little or no extiuse fotthe cant that pas ses current in society. , In the palmy days of Gifecce, dot even the women who sold fish in tho;.streets .of Athens could be induced to express fheir thoughts in vulgar forms of speech. Indeed, these women were said to be celebrated-Tor the purity of tbeir diction; and more than once were they appointed umpires to decide,,* between learned men upon the grammatical accuracy of senten ces. VVc would not have speakers, of English •so pedantic, or so, exact* but-, We wonld, have them accustom themselves to 4b o use words that would convey to the ear what they really felt or desired, not indulging in pleonasms that grate quite as harshly on the pueducalcd as the educated ear. In our. ihter