/
,^ r r~ .yr-
American volunteer.
fcOBBISHEB BVEtIJjTIIDnSDAT MOBNIN.Q DT
Jobn B. jaratton.
TERMS.
SußsoniPTiOK. —One Dollar and Fifty Cents,
,aid In advance; Two Dollarail paid within the
roars and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not
raid within tho year. These terms will ho rig
dly adhered to in every instance. No sub
cripliou discontinued until all arrearages arc
iaid jinless at tho option of tho Editor.
by the cash,
md not exceeding one square, will bo inserted
three times for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents
qr each additional insertion. Those of a great
er length in proportion.
. Jon-PniNTino —Such ns Hand-bills, Ppsting
jills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c., &o.,oxe
•uted with accuracy and at the shortest notice.
LITTLE ROSE.
pi She comes with fairy footsteps:
S/y; Softly their echoes fall,
•And her shadow plays like a summer shade
, r Across the garden wall,
w.-i/liia golden light is dancing bright,
bjs2 ’Mid the mazes of hCrJiair,
iPKpd.her fairy young locks are waving free
S||f 'To the wooing of tho air.
ike a sportful fawn she boundeth
So gleefully along,
s a wild.young bird she caroleth
The burden of a song.
summer flowers are clustering thick
Around her .dancing feet,
nd on her cheek tho summer breeze
Is breathing sett and sweet.
he very sunbeam seems to linger
Above that holy head,
nd tho wild flowers at her coming
Their richest fragrance shed. ;
nd oh I how lovely light and fragrance
Mingle in the life within !
h;l how londly do they nostlo
Round tho soul that knows no sin.:
ho comes, the'spirit of our childhood—
A tiling of mortal birth
'ot bearing still the breath of heaven.
To redeem her from the earth,
he comes in bright-robed Innocence,
■ Unsoiled by blot or blight,
L nd passeth liy’ our wayward path,
i A gleam of angle light.
HBh! blessed things are; childrenl'
B The gift of heavenly love i
®liey stand, betwixt pur world hearts
And better things above.
pJChey link us with .the spirit-world
o'i 1 ,- By purity and truth, .
'>■ And keep our hearts still fresh and young
' With the presence of their youth.
SHE ALWAYS MADE HOME HAPPY
I She always made home happy!
■ With her kind and winning ways,
; With her voice of cheerful gladness—
With her joyli.l hymn of praise.
i i She always made home happy !
Though she charmed no passer by
With the beauty of her person,
r Or the brightness of her eye.
Though no pearls or rubies flittered
i’ ’Mid the ringlets of her hair,
V In her heart there shone a radiance
Of n jewel'far more rare.'
1 Slie always made home happy I
Though her song was not divine, f
Tbouglrno harp-boneath her lingers
fc"' -. ’-, Thrilled to notes almost sublime,. ;
iiiff , 'vS.*PV»*ngb-no artist, yet she painted ,
■K - Many a beam of heavenly love, ...
Hh On tllK-fiiendly laces rovmd hpr, _.
r 'Mwullmttiiw:
BY “HAhKIE.”
THE POT OP GOliD—A TRUE
STORY.
$
Pi; Bancroft. though a very' good man
m- in the main, and looked up to with, respect by
% all the inhabitants of the village of Centreville,
las rumored to hive, in Yankee, parlance, • a
if;"'- pretty sharp eye to Ihqmam chance —-a peou-
( liarily froui which deacons are not always ex
|ii Worldly matters he was decidedly wcll-to
Site Vdo, having inherited a fine farm from his father,
tite'i' which was growing.yearly more vajoable. It
S ' hii"ht be supposed that, under these circum
’S* stances the deacon who was fully able to do so.
iNT 1 would have found a helpmate .to share his house
’,.s and name. But the deacon was wary. Matn ,
% ■ mony was to him in some measure, a matter ed
- ’ monevi and it was his 6rm resolve not to mar ]
r ry unless he could thereby enhance Ins worldly
&k, prosperity. Unhappily the little village of Ccn-
Pfi rtSe. and the towns in the immediate y.cim
fe ty 6'oninined few who wero qualified m this im-
R." portapt particular, and of those-, there were pro
ill:; bably none with whom the deacon 8 suit would
R. ithapTened that year after year passed
away, until Deacon Bancroft was in the prime
of life—forty-five or thereabouts—and still un-
E, * inarried, and in all human probability likely to
’.remain so. ’ ,
„■ Deacon Bancroft’s nearest neighbor was a,
'/ W T°he widow Wells, who had passed through
jßfcfi' One matrimonial experience, was some three or
W i; four years younger than Deacon Bancroft. She
lifc'v was still a comely woman. Unfortunately, the
ife, late Mr. Wells bad not been able to leave her
pit! sufficient to make her independent of the world.
K’S, All that she possessed was the small, old-fash
i&V: ioned house in which she lived, and a small
IK amount of money, whioh was insufficient to
i; ■ support her and a little son of seven, though |
JP> hardly to he classed as “productive”—of any
P;;' thing but mischief. The widow was therefore
SV obliged to take three or four boarders, to eke
put the scanty income, lyhioh, of course, un
posed upon her considerable labor and anxiety.
iHH; ‘lt is not surprising, then, that under these
ipll' ' oiroumßtaneoa, she would now and then have
Si- bethought herself of a second marriage, a? a
U’n method of bettering her condition; Or again,
§■!“ need we estimate it a special wonder, if, in her
|i. reflections upon this point, she should have
If# dast her eyes upon her neighbor, Deacon J3an
rroft The deacon, as we have already said,
W? was In flourishing circumstances. He would
i-C' 1 have been able to maintain a wife in great com
|T. ‘ fnV- and being one of the chief personages in
ip , - the Village, could aocord her a prominent social
B»- ' sagacious person has observed, how
& takes two to make a match, a fact
• hceeriously considered; for. in the present
mro ’it was exceedingly doubtful whether the
„ nr ti,v deacon, even if ho had known the favo
rable opinion of his next neighbor, would have
4-, teen inclined to propose changing her name to
■y ßancroft, unless, indeed, a suitable motive was
brought to bear upon him. Here was a chance
for finessing. , - . , ,
' One evening, after a day of fatiguing labor,
"V the widow Wells sat at the fire in the sitting
r room, with her feet resting on the fender.
J; “If l am ever so situated as not to. have to
|:-‘ , work so hard,” shomurmured, “Ishall behap
fe,r py. It is a hard life, keeping boarders. If I
was only its well oft ns Deacon Bancroft.”
gtjll Hie widow kept up her thinking, and
.by and by her face brightened up. She had an
ii& which she resolved to put into execution
■ v at.the very earliest moment. What it was the
- w reader will discover in the sequel.
h • j( ••Henry,” she said to her son the next mor
- ting, “I want you to slop at Deacon Bancroft’s
i as you go along to school, and ask him if he
-".will call and see mein the course ot the morning
' afternoon, just as he finds it most convent*
Deacon Bancroft was not a little surprised at
mmm ■
1 mcri ran
the summons. However, about 11 o’clock he
called in. The widow' had got on the dinner
and had leisure to sit vdowm She appeared a
little embarrassed.
“Henry told me that you would like to see
me,” he commenced.
“Yes, Deacon Bancroft, I do, but I am very
much afraid you will think very strange of it
—at least of what I have to say to you.”
The deacon promised very politely not to be
surprised, although at the same time his curi
osity was visibly excited. ..
“Suppose,” said the widow, easting down
her eyes—“mind, I am only supposing the
case —suppose a person should find a pot of
gold pieces in their cellar, would the-law have
any right to touch it, or would . J it belong, to
them ?” ,
Tho deacon pricked up Ins cars.
“A pot of gold pieces, widow 1 Why, un
questionably, the law would have nothing tp
do with it.” '
“And the one who formerly owned the house
couldn’t come forward and claim it. could he,
deacon,” inquired the widow, further, with ap
parent anxiety.
“No, madatnoi certainly not-rwhen the
house was disposed of. everything went with it,
as a matter of course.”
. “I am glad to hear it, deacon. You won't
think strange of the question, but it happened |
to occur to tny mind, and I thought I would
like to have it satisfied. .
“Certainly, widow,.certainly,” said the dea
con, abstractedly. '
“And deacon, ns you are here, I hope you’ll
stop to dinner with us. It will be ready punc
tually at twelve.”.
‘‘Well, no,” said the deacon, “I’m obleeged
to ye, .but they’ll be expecting me home.”
“At any rate, deacon.” said the widow, ta
king a steaming nvnee pie from the overi, “you
won’t object to taking a piece of my mince pie;
you must know I rather pride myself on my
mince pies.”
The . warm pie sent forth such a delicious
odor, that the deacon was sorely tempted, amj
after saying, “VYfli; really.” with the intention
of refusing, he finished by saying, "On the
whole, I guess I will, as it looks so nice.” !
The widow was really a good cook, and the
deacon ate with much gusto the generous slice
the widow cut for him ; and. after a little more
chatting upon important subjects, withdrew in,
some menial perplexity.
“Was it possible,” thought he, “that the
widow could have found a pot of gold in her
collar 1 She did not say so, to be sure, but
why should she show So much anxiety to know
; as to the proprietorship of treasure thus found,
if She had not happened upon some?” To be
sure, so far as his knowledge extended, there
was no one who occupied the house would be
in the least likely to lay up such an amount of
gold ; but the house was one hundred and fifty
years old, at the very least, and, undoubtedly
had many occupants of which he knew nothing.
It might be, after all. The .widow’s earnest
desire to have him think it was'only curiosity,
likewise gave additional probability to UieEup
, it .so ihappehed.; that DeaOon Bancroft was
one oftlie Directors, in a Savings’,lnstitution.-
situated in the next town, and accordingly, used
to ride over there once or twice a month, to at
tend meetings of the board. , ‘ -
On the next occasion of this kind, widow
Wells sent .over to know if he could carry her
over with him, as she had a little business, to
attend to there.
The request was readily accorded. Arrived
in town, Mrs. Wells requested to be set down
at the Bank. ’ ,
Ha, ha!” thought thedeacon; “ that means
something.’' . •, . . , f
He said nothing, however, but determined to
come back, and find out' as he could readily
from the cashier, what busines she had with
the bank.”
The widow tripped into the office, looking
very nonchalant. : ,
“ Can you' give me small bills for a five dol
lar gold piece I” she inquired.
“ With pleasure.” was the reply.
“By the way,” said she, “the bank is in
quite a flourishing condition, is it not 1”
» None in the Slate on a belter footing,” was
the prompt response. . -
“ You receive deposits, dp you not ?
■ Yoj, madam,, we are receiving them every
“Do you receive ns high ns—as five thousand
dollars?” ..
‘No,’said the cashier with some surprise:
or rather we do not allow interest on so large a
slim. One thousand dollars is our limit. Did
you know Of any one who
“It is of no consequence,” said the widow
hurriedly: I only asked for curiosity. By the
way, did you say how much interest you allow
ed on such deposits.ns come within your lim-
V
BY JOHN B. BRATTON,
VOL. 45
‘ Five per cent, madame'.’ .
‘Thank you, I only asked for curiosity.—
What a beautiful morning jt is !’ . • '
And the widow tripped lightly out. Shortly
afterwards the deacon entered. "
“How's business now, Mr. Cashiers he
asked.
• About as usual.’ .
• Had any new deposits lately ?’ 1
• None of any magnitude.’ 1
' •!'brought over a lady this morning who
seemed to have business with you.’
‘ The widow Wells ?'
f Yes.’ , . , „
Do you know,’ asked the cashier, ‘ whether
she had money left her lately V
‘None that I know of,’ said the deacon,
pricking up hia ears. ‘Why? Did she depo
sit any?"
“ No ; but she inquired whether we received
deposits as high as five thousand dollars.”
‘lndeed!’ ejaculated the deacon. “Was
that all she came for ?” he inquired a moment
afterwards.
•No : she exchanged a gold piece for some
bills.’
‘ Ha !’ pondered the deacon reflectively, ‘ did
she Rive any reason for inquiries V
• No, she said she only asked from curiosity.’
The deacon thought. He came to the conclu
sion that this “curiosity", only veiled a deeper
motive'. He no longer entertained a doubt that
the widow had actually found a pot of gold in
her cellar, and appearances seemed to indicate
that its probable value was equal to five, thou
sand dollars. The gold pieoo which she had
exchanged at the bank apepared to confirm this
Bt ° ,r i rather think,’said the deacon complacent
ly, ‘ I can seo into n millstone about as far as
most people,’—a statement, the literal truth
of which I defy any one to question, though, ns
to the prime fact of people’s being able to see
into a millstone at all, doubts have nowand
then intruded themselves upon my mind.
Next Sunday the widow Wells appeared at
church in a new and stylish bonnet, which led
to'some such remarks as these — ,
• How much vanity some people have, to be
sure!’ .
How a woman that has to keep boarders for
a living, can adord to dash out with such a
bonnet is more than 1 can tell! I think she
. was old enough to know better.”
This last remark was made by a lady just
six months younger, whoso attempts to catch
a husband had hitherto proved utterly unavail
ing.
«I suppose,’ continued the same young lady,
4 she is trying to catch a second husband with
her finery. Before I would condescend to such
means I’d—l’d drown myself.”
In this last amiable speech tho young lady
had unwillingly hit upon the true motive. —
Tho widow was intent upon catchig Deacon
Bancroft, and she indulged in a costly bonnet,
not because she supposed he would bo caught
with finery, hut because this would strengthen
in Ins mind the idea that she had stumbled
upon hidden wealth.
The widow hod calculated shrewdly, and the
disploy had the efleot anticipated.
Monday afternoon, Deacon Bancroft found
an errand that called him oyer to the widow's.
It chanced to be about lea time. He was im
portuned tp slay to tea, and, somewhat to his
surprise, actually did.
The polite widow, who know the deacon’s
weak point, brought on one of her best mince
pics, a slice of which her guest partook on with
zest. ,
1 You’ll lake another piece, I know,” said
she, persuasively. ■
4 Really, I am ashamed,” said the deacon,
and he passed his plate. 44 The fact is.” ho
said, apologetically, 4 your pics are so nice I
don’t know where to stop.” , .
4 Do you call these nice,’said the widow,
modestly. ‘I only call them common. I can
mate mince pics, when I set out to, hnt this
time I didn’t have such good luck as usual.’
■ l I shouldn’t want any better,” said the dea
con, emphatically. .
‘ Then I hope if you like them, you’ll drop
into lea often. We ought to be,more neighbor
ly, Deacon Bancroft.’ ,
Deacon Bancroft assented, and he mcaht
what he said. The fact is, the deacon began
to think the widow was a very charming wo
man. She wits very comely, and she was such
an excellent cook!- Besides, no doubt
in his own mind that she was worth a consider
able sum of money. What objection could
there be to her becoming Mrs. Bancroft 1 Ho
brought (his question before her one evening.—
The widow blushed, professed to be greatly
surprised—in fact, she had never before thought
of the thing in her life—but, pn the whole, she
had thought ''highly of the deacon, and, to out
short the matter, accepted him.
A month afterwards she ! was installed as
mistress of the deacon’s large house, somewhat
to the surprise.of the village people, who could
not conceive how she had brought him over.
Some weeks after the ceremony, the deacon
ventured to, inquire about the pot of gold which
she had found,jn lhe cellar. ,
‘ Pot of gold ; !’, she exclaimed in surprise: “
know of none;' 1
; ‘ But,’ said. the deacon, disconserlcd, ■ you
know; you asked me about whether the law
could claim it.! : . . .
•0, lor! deacon, I only asked. irora.cui;iosi-
ifoh ivciU 'oiit ''to'life li.'irn. ami for
■jah hpiir sat in silcntmcditation.—
ijfof lliof time, ho ejaculated as a clo
lewation, ‘ After all, she makes good
tij.’ 'A A. <
‘.And •
‘Cerian
The dm
about half.
At the cadj
sing considi
xhince pies."- . ,
It gives mo pleasure to state that the union
between the deacon and the widow proved a
very happy one, although to the end of his life,
lie never quite made up his mind about ** That
Pot of Gold.”
The Tail Gate.
Many years ago an notion of ejectment was
on'trial in our Court of Common Pleas to re
cover possession of a tract of land on the eas
tern border of the county. It was a valuable
tract, and the trial excited considerable inte
rest. The defendant relied on twenty-one years
continued adverse possession, and called, is one
of bis witnesses, an old Dutchman—a genuine
Hollander. He was sworn, and defendant's at
torney—Counsellor M-—told him to go on and
tell the court and jury all he knew about the
case. - »
4 Veil, I vagons on de Coomherland road, and
I Vants a new wagon.’
4 Now, Mr. Dicdrich.’ said the judge, 4 you
must confine yourself to the case —no matter
about your wagon.’
4 Veil. I dolls mine shtory. I vagons on de
Coomherland road, und I vants a new.vagon ;
so I goes to de vagon maker, und I says, 4 1
rants you to make trie a new vagon.’ ’
‘Now, Mr. Dicdrich,’again interrupted thel
judge, ‘wAreally cannot listen to all this stud'
about your-wagon. Just tell its what you
know about thisr case—never mind about the
wagon.’
4 Yell, I goes on’—and again he began at the
beginning —‘und I says, , 4 I vants you to make
me 0 new wagon, und I vants him mit bows
und side-box—und I vants him mit a tail
gate.’ *
Ry this lime the judge was out of all.pa
ticnce, and, with rather strong emphasis, ex
claimed: • ' •
‘Mr. Dicdrich, we will not tolerate this story,
any longer. What had this wagon to do with
the case t Unless you confine yourself to the
case,'you must leave the stand.’
Here Counsellor M. interposed. ‘Perhaps, if
your Honor will permit the witness to go on
his own way, it may save time in the end.’
‘ Well, I suppose we had better lefhim go
on,’ said the judge. ‘Proceed, Mr. Diedricb’-r
and the witness went on. . -
‘Veil, I vagons bn de Cootnberland road, um
I vants a new vngon ; so I goes to do vagon
maker, und I says, ‘I vants you to make mo a
new vagon—und I vants him mil a four-horse
bed —roit bows und side-box—und levants him
rail a tail gate, painted plue, mit de name, und
de datepn—und, by ging, John Schmidt (the
defendant) vas de vagon-maker, and, (reaching
down behind the bar,) by ging, here ish de tail
gate ! John Schmidt live dero dep, upd, by
ging, he live dere now. 1 ....
And he held up the tail-gate, on which, m
plain black letters, was printed— 'Jacob Died
rick June 28—18—’
The tail-gate was pretty strong ‘evidence,
after all. —Washington (Pa.) Examiner,
The Widow’s Mite. —A poor woman in the
Western part o( the State, some time ago, gave
Rev. Asa Bullard half a pint of chestnuts for
the Massachusetts School Society... Bullard
sold them at auction at a festival in Winchester 1
for $5. They wore returned to hint, and he Ijjs
continued to soil thorn over till they have real
ized $80,50, and a part still for sale.
Q'T” It is said that such is the religious inte
rest in some parts of Sweden that in some places
it is no more asked, « How do yon do 7” but
“ Have you repented V’ <‘ When will yon re
pent I” Tims every one is preacher to his
brother.
rr~7- Two centuries ago not one in a hundred
wore stockings. Fitly years ago not one boy in
a thousand was allowed to run at largo at night.
■Fifty years ago, not one girl in a thousand made
a waiting-maid of her mother. Wonderful im
provement in this wonderful world.’
‘T:rr*vr—-r--rr
“OUR COUNTRY—MAT IT ALWAYS BB RIGHT —BUT RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.
CARLISLE, PA., TIIUfISDAY, MAY. 19, 1859.
Marriage and Separation vTho Second Wed
ding.-"
A yomig couple were married at Justice Pur
dy’s office yesterday, with a little bit v of ro
mance attached to their ittuop. They were re-
spcctively Fritz and Catbariqe, but. in signing
the documents, both putdowUlhe name of Jiau
doll as a surname, which caused an inquiry as
to their cDnsaguipity, and clipited-jlhc fact that
they had been married befpre. The young
bride, who was thus made the heroine of two
weddings, was a modest looking German gjrl,
not pretty. Cut possessing (|ne of those.kind,
and amiable countenances,-which redeem a
multitude of defects in personalbeauty, and con
vince ua that there are sometimes angels oh
earth whose divinity is .hot|c6nflned to red
checks and rosy lips. . : *
She looked for all the worlddike ono : 'of those
who personify constancy in foujr shilling novels,
living etherially on the hope that a wrong will
become right some lime and basing rewarded in.
the end by illimitable got . up b}* the
novelists in a very blase style. If ahybpdy
could consistently subsist in. a garret and make
overalls and blue skins for a.’(lying, and neycr
falter in the faith that. her. virtue would tri
umph some day. Catharine might. She may
have done it—others may'; .bnVwc.have never
had such a casc.lo report whereJ.thQ records were
'authentic. : - >;
It appeared from -the story;lhat they were
married three years ago in soihb Eastern city,,
after an old country courtship of some years.—
On the wedding night some;villainous lago
whispered in the cars of thb bridegroom reports
of a previous attachment on the - part of the
bride, which planted thegcrm'of suspicion in
his breast, and caused him to'walch her with ;
anything but fond attention.- Naturally jeal
ous, he found no diPficulty. in misconstruing and
misapprehending, until he himself
ihaL he was a injured husband.; Unhappiness
and divorce followed, and- the ,j f P un g wife left
the scene of her troubles to this city v
where she honestly suppo^tcdL*::Kcrse!f and a
'young child by hard labor.
How it came about we did not question ; but
the young husband told it id pathetic; words
that.'his suspicions wcrV dispelled by. positive
proof, and that his old love cahaeback with a
force invigorated by the knowledge that she was
waiting patiently for justice.—
Letters that she wrote to friends, bedewed with
midnight tears, and speaking ’ with amounting
hope'of the future —of love and confiding trust
always full, and full, and of- complaint never
mentioning—revealed lO.'ltlm: lifer true charac
ter. and he came to her and offered himself for'
a second time, speaking rcgretfullv of the past
and glowingly of. the future, ijoyfujly, she
consented, and, as he told ihe .story; her eyes
filled with tears, until at the conclusion, when
he put out his hand and lobkcdTbvingly/at her,
she laid her head on ; his breast and yVepl like a
child, regardless .of the', spectatcfs.-npt one of
whom was hardened enough to sfoilc or jeer. ;
They started out anew, nbanpy|feopl& ,1
. , Detroit Free
Dr. Holland has .cbrnniehccd ea. .pcrics .0
•‘Preaching bn -Popular. flw
Springfield Sepublicaiu They are done up in
fine stylo. We giro below an.extract from one
of them, on the quarrels of religious people and
religious papers. It tells the truth. .It is
shameful to know that political' and secular
papers and people do not more disgustingly
outrage decency in their quarrels, than Ihdse
professedly religious sometimes do. On the
proverb, ‘‘Those who have to do with the devil,
pretend to be scared by a mouse," he says
‘■The religious newspapers of the day are,full
of quarrels about words—quarrels instituted in
the name of the Prince of Peace and carried on
for the benefit of the prince of Darkness—quar
rels growing out of rivalries Of sccts-Kjunrrels
fed by the tires of human passion—quarrels
maintained by the pr’de of opinion and by the
ambition for intellectual mastery—quarrels
whose only tendency is to disgust the world
with the religion in whose behalf they are pro
fessedly instituted, and to fret and to wound
and divide the followers of Jesus ..Christ, Tct
these same religious papers will deplore the
personal collision of two : drunken Congressmen
in the streets oft Washington as a sad commen
tary oii lho/degencrncy of the ago, and moralize
solemnly ,oveft-b dbg fight. They can lash
each dthcp'l with’,little mercy—they can call
each oiKeV’namcs, [abiise each other’s motives,
misconstrue', each others language, criminate
and recriminate,:but faint quite away with see
ing a cart-horse ' overwhipped or a raoe-horse
overtasked. They have daily to do with the
devil and pretend to be frightened at a mouse.
\Vhat is true of the controversial newspapers
is true, I fear, of a great many Christian men
and women. They have pel sins-poodle sms
with silky white hair—sins held in by a social
collar and a religious ribbon—that hark at
good, honest dogs, or imaginary dogs, although
their little.eyes are red with the devil that is
in them. As sectarians, they arc given to
slander. They speak disparagingly of those
who differ from them in belief. 1 hey judge
uncharitably those who engage in practices
which onlv their particular dictionary makes
diabolical.’ They blacken a multitude of good
deeds by dipping them into bad motives of their
own steeping. Now. if I were called upon to
decide which, in my opinion, is the [cast sinful
in itself, and the least demoralizing in US fen
dency—the traducing of one of Christ s disci*
pics, or engaging in or witnessing a horse race
Lf should turn my back to the traducer and
I shake hands with the jockey
d
Death of Porteu.thb Kentucky Giant.—
James D. Porter, widely known as tJte Ken
tucky giant, died at Ins m Portland
on Sunday niglit, ike24lh ult.,in the fiftieth
year of his age. having been born in 1810—
The disease which terminated his life was an
affection of the heart Mr Porter was; horn
near Portsmouth. Ohio, but since 1811. has
been living »' Louisville, to which city his pa
rents had emigrated. He was scorn feet nine
inches in height, and when, in perfect health,
weighed nearly three hundred pounds. It is
remarkable that for the first fourteen years of
his life he was small for Ins age; so much so,
that ho was often chgaged to ride races on the
old track, where the Ehn-trec garden now is.—
At seventeen he was apprenticed at the cooper
incf. and his remarkable growth commenced.-
It is stated that the most he ever grew m one
week was oite inch* It ■ was. his habit, while
growing, 16 measure every Saturday night.—
The coffin made for his remains was the largest,
ever seen in Kentucky, being .ntne feet one men
in length, and two feet across the breast.
CoN-soLATonr—A Scotchman having lodged
at an inn, was asked in’the riofnlng how he
had slept. “Not very good.” ho replied, “but
I was better off than the bugs, for not one of
them stopped to close an eye during the whole
night.”
n ia said to ba dangerous to ‘be working
with a Sewing machine near a window when
there is a thunder storm. It is also vqiy dan
gerous to-sit near some sawing machines when
there is no thunder storm.
0 UmtMT.
The Skunk Skin Trafic,
The odor of tlio skunk possesses a distinctive
property which' cannot he mistaken by any
whose sense of smell is at all discriminative.
During the pdst few months those who have
perambulated our down-town business streets
hayo repeatedly had their olfactories greeted by
this unmistakable perfume, and wondering
whence it originated, have at last traced it to
the warehouses of pur furriers. A few inqui
ries might, have explained the cause of , this
new accession to the, two and seventy stenches
of the metropolis. 1 ~ . .
Tlie trade in skunk skins has suddenly be
come a most important branclrof the fur trade,
and the skins of an animal which three years
ago deemed of no value whatever, arc now in
the greatest demand. They are collected for
exportation alone. The principal markets are
Russia-and Tmkey. though some are scnMo
GermanVi where they are sold at large profit,
as the fur of the genuine Hishcr.” The black
skins are valued the most, and during the past
winter the market price has-been as high as
SI pei skin, while mottled skins brought ,only #
70 cts. These prices, however, have recently
depreciated, on account of the immense expor
tation. ' • . i
Upwards of 50,000 of these skins have been
shipped from this city alone within the past
two months, and one firm in Maiden Lane have
now on hand abopt 18,000 ready for shipment.
These are designed for the Leipsic sales—Leip
sic being, next to Novgorod, in Russia, the
most important fur entrepot in Europe. The
first intimation received in this market or the
value of this new description of fur, came from
the Hudson’s Bay Company, which, having,
shipped a few to London at. -a venture, found
the returns so profitable, that they immediately
prosecuted the business,on an extensive scale,
. and now so large is the exportation, that a glut
in the market is anticipated. •
The heaviest collections are made m the Mid
dle and Eastern Stales, in some parts of which
the mania for capturing these animals seems to
have equalled the western Pike’s Peak gold ex
citement—men, women and children, turning
i out cn masse for the purpose; and; in many in*
’ stances, forsaking their regular avocations for
5 the sake of prospective gains from the hunt:—
! Y: Journal of Commerce.-
Patience,
“Patience!” It is the lesson, taught us by
winter. The wind' whispers it through the
branches’of Brand pine, where, by and by, tho
oriole and the red bird shall ilultcr their bright
plumage. The wind brings now no song of
birds, no breath of roses, but the medicine of
the cold, wholsome air, not less needful than
the perfume of the summer breeze. Patience!
be willing to be hardened into vigor—be willing
to be made strong, that so every season may
minister to thee its own keen and peculiar de
'-Palience! The bare twigs of oak, andmaple,
and willow! sbape.thcwsC ves .inloMiicroglvph-
buds, Stffnng oalmh
’in their-fotl»rs?.liU%i(tqi^jirtcd'tifecnO'un(ura
’their flag.i'f liberty.’ upon tjae sttimj?' air,--; -Wiry-
bird, ! hnfry ouVlo;meelithc
death dealing frost ? - Patfcncer-hcart;,neither
were itWellfor thee always to bo in.rlcaf and
flower. For thee is the time of blossoming and:
fruitage fixed, ns surely ns for tlidSfce.
; Patience! it is written upon the earth’s face,
las she lies looking placidly up to the heavens,
through her veil of snow. How ca!m she is,
with her white mantle folded overher bosom
over the seeds and roots she is keeping quiet
for the festival time of Spring—over the graves
where lie our s.cnied. up promises of Paradise.
Patience, soul! hold thy life-germs pure and
sound through the long days of silence and
cold, content, since heaven is above thee still,
with its earnestness of truth, its open radiance |
of love. ,
Patience! for the seeds will burst, the buds
will unfold, the graves will open! Wail in
qiiictncss and confidence! Let tby snow-robes
of endurance lie fight and beautiful about thee
till winter passes, and up from the deeps of thy
.being comes, a being and perfume of life! Then
patience may change into joy, for it is tby re
demption that draweth nigh '.—Congrcgalion
alist. .
Men of Energy.
All who have succeeded in life have been men
of high resolve and endurance.. The far-famed
William Pitt was in early life fond of gaming,
the passion increased with his years; ho knew
ho must at once, master, or the passion would
master him. Ho made a firm resolve that he
would never again play at a game of hazard.—
He could make such a resolution; ho could
keep it- His subsequent eminence was the
tmil of that power.
WilliMtfWilborforco, in his earlier days, like
most y«un(£hion of his rank and ago, liked the
excitement of games of hazard. lie was per
suaded one night to keep the faro hank. He
saw the ruin of the vice of gaming as he never
saw it before ; he was appalled at what he be
held. Sitting amid gaming, ruin and despair,
ho took the resolution that he would nevoragain
enter a gaming house. Ho changed his com
pany with tho change of his conduct, and sub
sequently became one of the. most distinguished
Englishmen.of his age.
])r. Samuel Johnson was onco requested to
drink wine with a triend. The doctor proposed
tea. “But drink a little wine” said tho host.
« I cannot,” was the reply: “I know ahsti
nenco, X know excess, but I know no medium.
Long since I resolved, ns I could not drink a
little wine, I would not drink at all.” A man
who could thus support ids resolution by action
was a man of endurance; and that element is ns
well displayed in this incident as in the combi
nations of his groat works.
Envy.
Envy is a mean passion. It neither consults ,
reason nor waits until tho judgment is exercised. ‘
It uses all the appliances that can bo brought to j
boar upon its subject. Lika the cormorant, it ,
oats out tho substance of everything outside of
itself and then turns and preys upon its own vi
tality i and strange to say, that in feeding upon
itself, it grows and strengthens and becomes .
more capable of performing its destructive work.
The envious person can never bo happy. The
tiling is impossible. As well expect the' cora
mordnt to bo out of pain and experience. ploa,i
sure with its sharp beak on its own heart, and
drawing forth the fluid by which its life is sus
tained, If tho silly bird that drinks its own
blood can bo at vest and satisfied, then may .'an
envious man pronounce himself contented—
But while, tho wound is open and bleeding, tho
process of destruction must bo going on j
the result ia inevitable, When the last drop is
drawn forth, the work I 8 finished'., Envy de
stroys itself with the doftruetton of.its possoß-,
sor. But the worst bl all is that while envy ,is
doing its work ot destruction in the heart that,
entertains it, nono of tho paitics envied are at
all hurt of disquieted, The vile passion can
only prey upon Itself. It can do no harm out
side of the.poof mistaken bosom that affords it
a harbor.
A woll-known aufbor onco wrote an arli
cle in “ Blackwood,” signed "A. S.” “ Tuf,”
said Jorrold, on roadingtlio Initials “what a pity
ho willtell only two-thirds of the Iriitli I”
AT $2,00 PER ANNUM
• *
The Earthquake at Quito.
" Thu last Columbia Democtal publishes the
following extract of a letter Irom the lion. C.
R. Buckalow, United Slates Minister to Ecua
dor, to Judge Wnrron'j. Woodward, of Blooms
burg, Pa. It gives a more accurate account of
the recent terrible earthquake in the city of
Quito, than has yet appeared in the papers, and
relieves the anxiety that was felt lor the safety
of Mr. Buokalow and his family, when the first
news of the disaster came, representing the
city in ruins, and thousands of the inhabitants
killed
Quito, 22d Starch, 185 i».
Dear Sib
Wo bad'(bis morning at 8| o’clock,-much the
most severe Earthquake which has visited Quito
during the present century. Its duration was
about one minute. The spires of many Churches
are thrown down, roofs of houses fallen in, ana
the streets in many places lined with broken
tiles precipitated from above. I have just re
turned Irom visiting the Flores House, from
which wo removed on the 17th inst. 11 m in
ruins— a great part of the roof is' down, also a
part of the second story j the chimney-top,
thrown with violence, carried away with the
stable roof, some of the furniture is crushed,
and the brick and tiles-are piled four or live
feet deep over tho bed-places where wo slept.
Wo escaped the catastrophe by just live days.
My present house is uninjured, is reasonably
sroufe against iuturo shocks, and there Is plenty
of open ground adjoining lor refuge. Mrs.
Buokalow and I passed into tho paseo, and the
children and servants into tho garden-during tho
shock—from our position I saw the action of
tho housd', and the movements of tho earth to
advantage. A bricklayer on the roof, working
at a chimney-top, found It thrown in confusion
around him, and look a firm grip to hold him
self from following tho fragments. I here Is
more or less of injury all over the city, but de
tails are yet unknown. I do not think the
number killed is very largo. I have, had time
to make only a slight personal examination.—
Tho houses are very much shattered, and ano
thcr severe shook, would produce immense
destruction. ... •,
Reports f.rom neighboring villages represent
them as having suffered severely i and wo await
•nows from tho South, whore previous Earth
quakes havo boen most severe. I might fill my.
sheet with reports, but have confined mysoll in
this letter to what I know.
Yours respectfully, .
0. R. BUCKALEW-
Hon. W. J. WoomvAim.-
Jin Unhappy Widower.
It is a corririion opinion that those vrljo mar
ry for money arc generally diljappblfited m some
way, arid the following incident, related by the
Paris correspondent of. the Boston Traveler,
furnishes confirmation of its truth: . .■■ j
“ Thcwcial circles of Paris arc still talking
of the hardship which has befalle'n a gentleman
of fortune and rank within the last. month or
two. Ue married, seven years ago, a lady pos l
of
were reckoned at £200,000." HC'ha'dan estale
,oCS3,(Jooaycar.:. Six thousand dollars a year,
with such well-grounded hopes of inheriting at
na 'yisiari’t’day ,s£oo,ooo. seemed to- won-ant
sonic encroachment on their, capital, especially
during the first years of thoir marringo, -whim,
both being young, the pleasures of; the world
were enjoyed with a .relish they could never
again hope to command. His wife shone-with
great brillancy in society from one years end to
another, for when the Paris season closed, she
appeared at the most fashionable watering
place, and when society deserted German Spas
she was found leading society in some hospita
ble country house. It rained heavy and nu
merous bills on New Years Day, hut they were
cheerfully paid, and hopes looked to for repay
ment. But last summer his wife took sick ; a
golloping consumption appeared, and the poor
woman died at the German Spas she had selec
ted. because of its vogue, for her summer resi
dence—the legatee died before the testators that
were to enrich her! She dying childless, her
husband is obliged, by the French law, to re
pay the sixty thousand dollars dowry he re
cuived. with her hand ; and no deduction is made
for the money spent in gratifying her extrava
gant tastes. These expenses, and this return
of his n-iefs dowry, leaves him almost penniless.
I believe ho has only three thousand dollars left
of his estate of fifty thousand dollars.
. Oar Foremotliers.
We hear enough about our forefathers. The)
were nice old fellows, no doubt. Perfect bricks
in their way. ; Good to wofk, eat, or fight
Very well. Blit where are their companions—
their “chums"—who as their helpmates urged
them along! Who worked and delved for their
forefathers, brushed up their old clothes, and
patched their breeches? Who unpetticoalcd
themselves for the cause of libcry ?. Who
nursed our forefathers, when sick—who sung
Yankee Doodle to their babies—who trained up
their boys? Our foremothers. Who landed at
the James River, and came over in the May
flower, and established the other early settle
ments ? Were there any women among them?
One would think not. Our Yankee neighbors,
especially, make a wonderful ta'k about the
Pilgrim fathers who squatted on Plymouth
Rock, and there is a great ado made over it
every time, they wish to get up a little enthusi
asm on Liberty, and refresh themselves by
browing over freedom; and the chivalry of
Virginia arc not a whit behind them, when
they take a not on to vrfunt themselves upon
the glory and greatness of the Old Dominion ;
and our staid Pennsylvania Quakers, too, like
to plume themselves slyly upon the merits and
doings of William Penn arid hisassooiales : but
with all tho “blarney” so plentifully distribu
ted on all ■ sides, what do wo hear or gather
about tho foremothers ? Didn’t they encounter
perils and hardships? And, after all, didn't
they, with their kind hearts and warm arms,
sustain the flagging spirits of their male com
panions, and keep the stalwart but chilly old
forefathers from freezing to death, during those
horribly cold winters which some of them had
to shiver through.
-Who ushered us into tho world—our forefa
thers? Bah! no, indeed, it was our foremo
thers! Who nursed our, forefathers? Who
nursed Washington, Wayne, Franklin, Putnam,
and .a 1 host of others, whoso names will live
forever, and taught thciri to be men and patri
ots? Didn’t our foremothers ? And who gives
them the credit they deserve ? Nobody !
"i tty “You boo, doctor, I hare lo sweatier
tny living in this world.”
• “Yes, but I’m afraid you’ll have to sweat
more in tho next.” •
(C 7“ At a cattle show, recently, a fellow who
was making himself ridiculously conspicuous,
at lost broke forth: ■•Call these here prize cat
tle 1 Why they ain't nothin' to what our
folks raised.. My father raised tho biggest calf
of any man round'our parts.
••Don’t duiit it,” remarked'a bystander,"and
the noisiest. ” . : . .
py u Ono word more, and I have done.”—
How wo dread to hoar lids sentence from the
lips of a speaker at public mootings I, It is at ;
ways a sure indication that bo is bracing up for
a fresh starL
"imitation Is the sincerest flattery. ,
. \OT Do not trifle wllh ypur.own character.;
. IX?" What is a railroad ? A list friend.
tor Ho who has lost shame may bury his
heart.. , .
[X?* Discretion lb speech is more that) elo
quence. * , ..,
K 7" To be proud of ttno’s hearing is tho groat,
esl of ignorance.
(jy Bo quick in receiving, and bold aiid dbi
terrained in executing.
■ [jy The worst 'feature on a man’s face is his
no3 e_whon stuck in other people’s business.
Qy Qlisorved duties maintain our credit; but
secret duties maintain'our life.
NO. -19.
Dy Nothing is further than earth from bea
ven; nothing is nearer than heaven to earth.
[X?* If you would teach secrecy to others,
begin with yourself.
gy Prosperity is a stronger trial than adver
sity.
0?” He who minds his own business w ell, let<
alone the business of others. , . ,
0?" Ere the introduction pi the cold water
system into tho navy, every Jack had his bi 11...
■[jy It ts easier to be wise lor others than'for
ourselves.
. OS' Nature has sometimes made a fool, but n
coxcomb is always of man’s own maklbgi ~
(jy He that can please nobody is not so much
to he pitied ns he that nobody can please.
Oy Our merits procure us the esteem of men
of sense, and otir good foituncs that ot .the pub
lic.
(Xy Good hdmof is the blue sky of ttlb sonlj.
in which every star of talent will shine more
clearly.
OF* An affection, however misplaced and ill
I'equited, if honestly conceived arid deeplj-,ib.lt;
rarely fails to advance flap self-education of man;
OF” Every liour that .0 man is in debt is a
year spent in'slavcry. According to this, what
an everlasting long life some people must live.
some men it is indispensable to bo
wortli money; for without it they would bo worth
nothing. v
Qy Are.you looking tor any one in particu
lar? as tho rat said when he saw tho cat watch-
ag him.
OF” Do good to him who does you evil, ant}
iv this rijoans you will gain the victory over
OF” The greatest advantage tbaj a,man can
procure for his children is to have them well
educated.
i . ■ I
0F”If your wife runs aw,ay, don’t you run
after her, lor if you do, there will bo two fools
in the chase.
OF" A man can got along without advertising!
so can a wagon wheel without greasing, but It
gfltas nwlul hard. ; ,
OF” The poor should get learning in order to
become rich ; and the rich should acquire it for
their ornament.'
OF” A man should accommodate himself to
1,0 weakness of his inferiors, in order to derive
ora them the service he requires. ‘ ;
. 0F”It is best fodcooivo.no one j toy ho that,
like Mahomet, begins by deceiving others, will
end like him, by deceiving himself.
>4 '
Says a cmirttry girl, describing her conn
try homo, <‘TTo' raise our own truit and vegeta
bles, make our own pork, and lay our own eggs;
OF” A great many gentlemen, if they happen
to see a widow lu weeds, are disposed to cUltl
vato her, - - ~ *'; .
OF” Thc.rdri6ori,wiiya sailoriscalledatar, in=
hocaHSo he Is .cDuataridVy'pitcbed abQUt onthd
ocean."”'. ' ■ ■. ■ . ' t
OF” Ladies who nsq; an excess of perfrimQ
must think,men like serifs—most asiaflabfo M
the nose. , . 7 .
OF” A great raaiiypersoris undcrlnUo fobuild
fortunes as Tat fried to buildhis ‘chimney—they
begin at the lop arid bnld.down
DF”.yTerqwo ns eloquent as angels, wo should
please some ineri, some women, and some ohll-,
dron, much more by listening than by talking.
The -best way to slfengiheh A good resri
iiilion is to act it out yourself. If you: riwolyij
to repair an old fence, it strengthens the fesidri- 1
lion, and the fence too, to commorifce at oiitri. :
OF” Employment, which Galen calls' «Na
ture's physician,” ia so essential to human hup.
pincss, that indolence is justly considered as thb
mother of misery.
OF” Ho who cannot feel friendship la htlkq.
incapable oi love. Let a woman beware oftho
man who owns that bo loves , no'one; but him
self.
■’OF* An avaricious man rrins straight into po
verty.. lie lends a life of poverty,hero below,
but he must give nn account of a rich man In
the day of judgment. . .
K 7” The editor of a Minnesota paper says that
ho can generally manage, by .hook or by crook,
to got up a pretty good paper. lie does it prin
cipally by hook.
05?* It is a Chinese maxim,.that for every man
who does not work, and evoryi woman who la
idle, somebody must auffer.cold orhungcr; All
ioalera please notice.
03?* One of our hackney coachmen seeing an
undertaker carrying a coffin on his shoulder,
called out to a brother whip—“ I say, Jim!
there’s your now box-coat going homo.”
03?" A Christian is made humble tint by tmt
sidering whether he is little or groat when kom
pared with others, but by remembering he ia
nothing when compared with perfect excellence.
05?* Mrs, Kartinglon says, that it she should
be cast away, she would prefer meeting with the,
catastrophe in the **Bay ot Biscuits;” tot then
she should have somothing'io live titi.
OyAh bethink tlioo maiden yet , ;
Ere to passion’s doom betrayed ;
Hearts where Love, 1/j? seal lias sot,
Sorrow’s fiercest pangs invade.
03?” A lawyer at Lowell having found ninety
five dollars and returned the money to tlie own.
or, one of (lie papers says the act may bo honest
and honorable, but is exceedingly unprofession
al.
[ry- a man oannof wait for Ins,dinner without
instantly losing bis temper, but see with what
angelic sweetness a woman bears the trial! Uas
woman more patience than map 7 .Not a bit of
it—only she nas lunched, and the man has not.
CCT" What’s -tho use of approiimiitloh which
only conies near enough to bo (also 7,, Of what
use to bring two ends of a rope wi.llmi one inch
of each oilier, if Jolt can’t bring them any near
or?
tjy At a recent fostivy in Paris, I,puis Napo
leon wore a sword whose scabbard and hilt wore
covered with SSQ.OOO woylh of diamonds, wbil?
the Empress*displayed a million of dollars porth
of diamonds.
K?” If yon would have your laws .pbgyeij,
without mutiny, seo r well to It that, they,are
pieces of God Almighty’s law—otherwise the
artillery in the world cannot keep down' muti-
ny.” . ,
(E?” A devout young man Says if any bqd;f,
doubts Hint •■ Music hath charms,’,’let him drop
into Street church, Sundays, whore the pret
tiest girls sing fn the choir “lhatovor you S.eo,
His grammar, like his morals, but not Ilka the
girls, should bo looked after; ~ • V
rrs~ Returns prove..lbat .(ram the period of,
tboinaugurntlon of tho Coolie, apprenticeship
system, forty-fonf thousand five hundred'and,
forty-nine Chinamen worV'shipped for Cubaj pt,
which number, thifty-sove.n thousand seven
hundred and fifly-flvo d?ore landed alive.
p-y An .old' lady, on being witnessed before
a magistrate as to her place of legal settlement,,
was asked what reason she bad for supposing
bor husband, had a legal settlement in that town.
The old lady said:—Ho and mauled,
and,they hurled him there, and if that ain’t sot;
tlirig him there,'l don’t know what is.'
■ naii €lik