American i olnutcrr. VOL. 47. AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. rVBLISBSD EVERT THURSDAY HORNING BY JOHN B. BRATTdW; TERMS I Bubsciption.—One Dollar and iPlfty Center paid In advance; TWo Dollars if paid within tbo ycarj and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid within iho year.' Those terms will be rigidly adhered to ia every instance. No subsoription discontinued'Until all arrearages arc paid unless at the option of tho Editor,' , i i by tbo OAsir, and not exceeding" one square, will be inserted three times for,Ooo Dollar,'and twflg “r-^p.onc h additional ji«n iu ffop,oftion,. n - . ~ > ■ jy 7: V. • Job- Printing —Sn°h us Hand-bills, Posting-bills, pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c. &c., executed with qccurucy and at the shortest notice.- I WUD KNOT DYE IN WINTER, X wud Icnofdyo m wintur, .* When" whiskey punches When pooty gals arc skating Oar fcalds of iso A sno. Wliou sassadgo meet is phrying, • A hickory knuts is thick ; Oh I who cud think ov dyeing, Or ovou gottiu sick. I wiul knot dyo'in spring time, A miss the turnip groans, A the- pooty song or the lootlo frawgs, A the sky-larks airly skrenms 5 , When tho burds begin thar wobbling A tutors 'gin to' sprout—. ( . }yhen turkeys go to gobbling, I would nob then pog but. Knot by a jugg ful. I‘wud knot dyo in summer, :y A ipyp thoffifrdoh' £dgs—-_;, TII6 rtisio tain ancf huttormilk—- j TKc.Ufdol pldse in the grass j I wild' kuofc dyo in summer, . When everything's so hott,. A love tho whiskey jolopa— Oh! kno, I’d rayther knot. As I knoos on. I wud knot dyo in orbum, With pcoohca fit fur ceting, When the wavy korn is getting, wripo. A kaudydatos is treotiug. Phorihis A other, wroasons, V X’de knot dyo in the pbdll, A sense IVo tbort it over, I wud knot dye at all. By no manner of moans. THE STAR OF LOVE, There is a star that lights me on Through life's tumultuous sea;. There is a star I,gaze upon . That's all,the world to me: It beams upon mo with its light ’ Wherever I may roam j It choors tho dark and wintry night, And shines within my home. • ■ There U a star that o'er mo beams, - ■ ..No matter irhon or where; , Its influence u'er melnilfll.v s'troama In sorrow, pain, or ouro ; ' .It choors mo in my lonely hours. When all is dark and drear, When stormy clouds above mo lour. Or when tbio sky is clear. /It shines upon my stony path, - It lights mo on my way, It shods its influence round my hearth, ■ ‘And soothes mo with its.ray; 1 It smilos upon me in iny dreams. When slutnbors o'er mo creep, -- Tho darkness (loos before its beams-- It lulls my soul to sloop. Oh, “tis a startho-world knows well, For all have folt its tiros, If broasts and hearts would only toll ' Tho footings it iuspiros; -Its boams may pierce tho midnight'gloom When nil is dark above,. . - And tears may fall upon our tomb, Shod by tho star of lovo. ®mllanwuo. “HIS WIFE’S SISTER.” An elegant and philosophical writer says : “Man’s life is only a journey, from one fond woman’s breast to another.” It was probably the object of the author to refer particularly to the mother and wife. As the number 1 of stopping is not limited, however, I chose to accept the most catholic interprets-, ■ tioii. T,believe that-what the world usually calls la only the effortof nature 'to 'progress Bward'perieordffiuitios. ' If inon in his journey of life stops at. a good many ports, it stands' to reason that he will acquire a much bettor knowledge of the world, and will eventually ‘lay up’ in the best haven. Let mo give you a, modified illustration of my idea. I have a friend who has been sub jective to a theory of purely physical progres sion, His first and earliest affection was for Curls. Ho became acquainted at the age of ten years with a set of twelve, large ones at tliat. This capillary attraction, if I may so term it, was not lasting. A Voice, belonging to another and otherwise plain yqung woman, next occupied the reverberating chambers of his heart. , It was not a fine Voice, but it was a positive one, and his was a negative.. Now, you see, Curls had. a negative voice, and of ■course two negatives hadn't any attraction. Henoo his-deflection. Then a Bust attracted his undivided attention. It was followed by Byes and Mouth, which by an unusual phe nomenon occurred, in the same individual: they Were both positive and my friends mouth and eyes were negatives, proposing to them, but was providentially saved.’ Hence his new variation. He came v*y near by the In terposition of an Ankle. He flirted with the Ankle for some time, but an ankle not 'being n regular feature, of course it wasn’t lasting. Need I inform'the reader that had he met the positive and negative peculiarities combined W one person, he would hove fallen in love at once and. recognised his affinity. That’s what he was looking for. Hence his hesita tion, and what the world foolishly calls his ‘inconstancy.’ I merely instance this physical illustration as being the most forcible and common. Men tal and moral peculiarities are met in the same way, and are much, more difficult to combine. Of course there are same excep tions to the above theory. Indistinctive peo ple are an exception. You may take a stick of wood and saw it into a number of pieces, and you shall find no difficulty in fitting any of the pieces together, . But take another stick, and break It several times, and you must find the particular adjunct if you wish to join two in one, Now,indistinctive people are tho sawn blocks j, they come- naturally to gether. The broken'pieces ate men and wo men pf strongly marked opposite characters; with negative and positive dispositions, fit ting each other and showing that in tho nor mal state they were one distinct creation. Not unfrequently there is some unnatural matching,.- A worthy friend of mine, with a smooth, indistinctive surface, married one of the broken,. pieces the consequence was obvi ous ;. attraction has 'worn off her salient feat ures, and she has become like him. But when two broken surfaces meet,.that don't fit there's trouble and business for the lawyers at once. ~ ; I,would like to gird youari, illustration of another exception, just for its litoral; Every .story should hive a riioral or develop some peculiar how often do we accept the moral. , When our surgical friend strips the walls of this once living temple, and lays bare its wonderful internal structure; however ir rovarqht the apt, we pardon it. for the good thgt shall accrue to man thereby. But when the.novelist, with his little .scalpel, cuts in to the charaoterpf his neighbor, or his dear friend, and exhibits' their internalorgan ism, or shows up his own idiosyncrasies, we never recognize ourselves therein. That’s quite another affair, of course. . AVhen my friend Dick was about thirty years of age, he had amassed a little fortune.- He had flirted a good, deal, .in his time, and was rather it wild young fellow.. But under his superficial qualities rind y irianly exterior, | fhefe Vcas a litfge ( honest-boy’s heart; ... Whether it had over been, trampled upon or had the impression of some woman’s small foot sunk in it, is of little consequence.; But I do not think his heart was that .kind of primitive formation that hold the relics of by gone days in its cold fossiliferous stratum-If Dickhad everhadan “afiair do cceur”ho had forgotten it. Ho was what we term hlase; we—who know nothing abont it. . Dick did not object to the epithet-rhe rather liked it, as we all do—aud I think he cultivated an en miyer air. . If he had any previous erratic, ex perience, it . whs in the progressive stages 1 told you of. At his boarding-house he chanced occasion ally to meet a young girl, who seemed to pos sess' many-of the attributes he. had admired consecutively in She',was simple and unsophisticated,' arid supported herself by giv ing music lessons.'-..With, hTdwholesSle'admi ration of the sex, Dick became interested iri her after a fashion, She did not object to his attentions. Miss Mary .whs, flattered, .and pleased with Hick. And Dick did hot exact ly love her, for be had doubted the existence of the passion. But he felt it was tiirie to got married. Ho was getting old. Here was a good chance for him to test his skeptical the ory in regard to love..- If he really believed there was no such thing ho might as well morry her as any one. She would undoubt edly make him a good wife. And she was poor, that was the strong lever that stirred the romantic foundation of Dick’s heart. Ho could give her a position. She must love him—ho could give her happiness IHe could, in short, make a —a—yea, that was it, a— sacrifice! . ... • .. . ..... They were married quietly. There were some friends of Dick’s present, but the bride was an orphan, and her only relative, a young er sister lived in a distant State. He took her to a rich luxurious homo. ,Ho fell thatho had done the correct and gentlemanly thing iri every respect; and when.he -had led hor.iri-' to the seftly carpeted parlor of . their fashion able bower, it was with a feeling of placid self-corigrdtulation. The foolish, simple bride threw her arms about her husband’s neck and said to him— »|. "Oh, Dick 1 how can I thank you ?” Nary time. Dick was touched and felt an imaginary halo suspend itself over his Olympian brow. There wore no transports with Dick. The honeymoon passed quietly and evenly. He had not expected to be extravagantly blissful —his dream, if one had over fashioned and shaped his inner man, was deceitful, and he knew it. ’ His wife was'all to him that ho had sought, it seemed—but tho possession of her love,did not fraught with the strange fascina tion that .he had often conceived in his early days. There was something wanted. He would never let her know it; oh, no, it would spoil his perfect sacrifice! But perhaps it was this consciousness that placed a deeper chasm betwixt his wife’s affections and his own. He felt, he had another’s happiness in his keeping, and he resolved to guard it as preciously as his' own. This state of affairs, as you may readily imagine, though very ro mantic, put him upon a forced and unnatural behavior, which added another million of miles to that awful chasm. And Dick some times found himself sitting opposite to her in her comfortable parlor;‘and Wondering if that strange woman was his wife. There was the Contour of the face, that had haunted his boy ish visions; there was tho same, soft voice and 'winning accent—mid wh'y w'asn’the happier ? why. wasn’t .ho grateful? what was the mean ing of that awful 'baWier''that—fay- between them? Why was ho doing the, Spartan busi ness, and all that sort of thing ? Ha would .get up at such times and go over to the . ne'at womanly figure, ond.gaze into her eyes' and kiss her red lips, and say, ‘are yon happy, my dear ?’ and then she would look back and answer, and would say, ‘Are you not, Dick?’ Dick would say emphatically, Certainly my dear 1' with a great deal of unnecessary decis ion. A time came when Dick's wife was not able to visit much, and kept her room a great deal; and Dick learned that this younger sister of her’s would visit her, and for certain reasons, the visit would be very opportune; and it was with that strange flutter which the conscious ness of a coming event occasions in the breast of the expectant parent, that Dick was sitting by himself in the little library before the fire. Her chair—for she was want to bring her work in and-sit with her husband white he read was standing opposite, and her w or k basket was still upon the table, •Ho was trying tcanalyze tho strange sensations that Were thronging upon him, a looking forward to a hnppior'stato of being, when it occurred to' hhn- that he'might assist his'reflections by smoking!- Ho drew out his"cigar case, bit off the end-of - a fragment HaVana, and looked around for a bit of paper to light it.- His eye. fell on his wife’s basket. Thelre whs a white paper sticking out of a chaotic scramble of various colored fragments. He took it up. It seemed to bo a letter. He was about re placing it when his eye caught a passage containing his own name; I have told you that Dick was the soul' of honor. If he had known that his wife didn't want him to read the letter; he wouldn’t have road it. If he had imagined for a mfiment that it contained anything he shouldn’t road, or any secret of his wife’s, he would have sat and bjinked at it all day, or perhaps have walked up stairs with it and handed it to her, saying: “My dear, you have left a leftet- be low.” I don't know what it is, or who 1 it's from,” and would hove departed dramatical ly. But not knowing what it was, you see, ho coolly read on, commencing at his name, as I do: “I am sorry to hoar that Dick is not all that you fondly imagined. Don’t ask me, dear for advice ; it is better you should leave all - to-time and your own tact and judgement. I'thrnk 'thdt no one is capable of meditating between a wife’s affections atid her husband’s even a sister. I would say that y6ii ought to have weighed oil this before you hound your solf to one whom you think is not worthy of your affections; blit 'vC oiinnot recall whot is past. No! indeed'. You say that,your Dick has o generous heart, and in this world, dear 1 yoii . know thitt this ought to make up (brother defects; even if he ho did? and stu pid / (Oh t you should have Seen Dick's face at tliis.uioiilontt j Your sacrifice 1 know was a great one, but men oknnot appreciate the sacrifices we make; , No, never. But ! will soon be with you, my dearest sister, an d per haps I may be able to do something for you, with this queer being whom you have taken for a husband. Don’t think lam hardheart ed, or nnsistcrly, either, if I can't understand feelings. . I never saw the man yet that I could'whimper over or feel badabout. Good bye, dear, till I see you, which will be soon! “ Your affectionate sister, “Tip.” • “ Dull and stupid! Ho “ dull and stupid 1” he, Dick—the delight of select circles 1 the witty, fascinatin'*-, agreeable, gossippy, Dick 1 “Dull and stupid;" and her sacrifice—her “groat sacrifice?” What sacrifice? When? How? Where? And this was the return, this was the result of bis noble, Roman-liko con duct; this was eventuating from his deeply delicate, poletical, gentlemanlike, treatment. This was her opinion of him—tho opinion of the wife of his bosom, the partner of his joys, the sharer of his wealth, his property—the woman ho—no! not loved 1 “ Dull and stu pid I” why the woman was a fool, they are both fools 1 they were hypocrites I—they were ingrates I they wore—woman I” Ho sank back into -his chair. Then ho started up and threw the letter in the grate, and carefully replaced his cigar in the bas ket. Then he burnt bis, fingers recovering tho letter. Then he put his hands upon his head, his elbows upon his knees, and in that position reflected. He thought ho had.hetter not say anything about it. He was in for a sacrifice and tho bigger the better. “Ho, there! Bring in some, fogofls and lay ’em round the stake I Pour-on tne oil- and wine and gly.e .the brands' another poke! Here’s the spectacle: of n Christian young husband immolated on the hyiricninl alter! Hurrah 1 Fetch on your fag ots!" ' - - “Dull and stupid! He liked that 1” Well, he’d lot them see his dullness and stupidity, hereafter, with a vengenoe. And the young sister, indeed I A snub nosed, freckled faced, hpydonisb_thing, with braids and mincing ways, and—daring to talk about him, Dibkf themum of the world !.the Wasemnn, ns dull and.stffpid!, Well, ho’d.likS to have his friend Wobbles, hear that; bow he’d laugh 1 At them ?, Of course.' Certainly at them. But them.he’d b'ettterfiot soy onything about it— on his wife’s account. When be wont up to hie wife’s chamber be made some; trifling, jocular remarks which I regret has n'C't f'eaioh'hd me,' which had thd effect of making his Mary open her eyes in meek astonishment. “Dull and stupid!,’ thought Dick ; “ indeed I’* . There was some little preparation a weet. afterward ;amh one dayeDicfc; coming -hotbo,; saw some boxes in tho hall some mysterious looking bundles laying about, and other signs which seemed to indicate that his wife’s sis ter had arrived. Of course, the recollection of that letter did not tend to awaken lively anticipations-of a meeting with, the disagree able “ Tip.” He thought at first that he wbuld try tho dignified and stately, and otherwise impress tbe young woman with a sense of her previous irreverence.. But then ho wished to . establish a character the oppo site of those adjectives which' yet swam be fore his eyes. “Dull and stupidl”—and “ dignified and stately” seemed only a hope less alliteration. He had sent the several up stairs to inform his Mary of. his coming, by way of preparing the. repentant and bumbled Tip for his awful retributive presence. Then ho changed his mind and thought of rushing up stairs boisterously. He made a step to ward the library door when it was thrown open ; two white arms were flung about his neck, to big blue eyes looked into his, while a pair of scarlet lips articulated in rapid ac cent: “My dearl dear brother 1” Dick was taken aback. Ho looked down at tho beautiful girlish figure, and felt—he, tho “ blase” man—-awkward and embarrassed. His lips syllabled it iow commonplaces, but the breath, of life seemed to have loft him. He could only lead her to a sola, and stand stand and gaze at her. She was certainly Very pretty so like his wife, and yet so un like. “ Qh, dear 1 I did so long to see you. , Why .didn’t you coino up stairs. I was afraid you were angry at something. Ton are not at all like Mary 's husband._l .know, T shall liko youv You’re my brother, you know, end I never had a-brother; and I'm-sure 1 shall love you so much. You don’t say anything I Why, wliat’s the matter? Why you look palel You’re sick 1 Mary ! Good gracious!" Poor Dick! poor, Poor Dick. It was over, Ho was better now. Yea, he was calm, too —he was all. She was sitting before him, on the very seat his wife had occupied; the same.i , • contour of features; the same outline; the -same figure—but.oh 1 that indefinable expres sion and this strange feeling and thrilling. The vision of his past life, tho dreams of his youth, were looking out of tho anxious, pret ty glance that met his own. Oh 1 'rash, hasty, inconsiderate fool! He hod stopped ono step short of perfect affinity. This was bis wife’s sister! Oh! Heavens! ho had married his wife’s sister 1-This was, his wife! The sacri fice was complete. No, not complete I It remained for him to smother the fires, of his new passion in the dead ashes of past life* It was at once his torture and his crown to minister to the inva lid wants of the real wife of his manhood in company with the fair young ideal wife of ms youth. It was his groat glory to feel the touch of. her warm/ soft hand on his brow. When ho sometimes sat alone distractedly, groping blindly in the darkness for some clue to lead him away from the pitfalls that beset his path/ Ho could not help seeing that ho had awakened a sympathetic interest .in 4 ‘ Tip's” young heart—a feeling as yet unde fined and holy in its nameless orphan purity. But. the sacrifice was not complete. _ * They were sitting alone in the little libra ry ; sho sat opposite to him in his wife s chair. Ilo~raised his sho drew her chair nearer to hinr; and in her simple, artless way, asked his forgiveness 1 1 “'For what, Tip ?” ... 44 'Well, never mind; say you'll forgive mo, I once thought worse-of yow than you deserv ed, and I may have said something to Mary; did sho tell ydu anything ?” ~.. Pick could conscientiously wave ri'nega* tive, “ I'vtr’ changed my mind since, brother I Tou’re so different. I am sure I know of no one who'could; mate Mary happier than you. f judge so by What I have seen of you and my own feelings, for you know, Mary and I are all that are left of our family. Do you CARLISLE, FA., THEBSOAV, MARCH think we are alike? I think that I shall never marry,, for I could jqot- find another like Mary's husband.” ’ ' The artless simplicity and genuine sinceri ty of poor Tip oxorted ff'groan from Dick. Instantly she was at his side. “Don’t worry, brother, about Mary, sbo will be bet tor soon. I know’how -you- feel, dear, and it must bo a comfort to Wary, to know your sympathy.” , -y How shall I end iny Story, reader? Shall I say that Tip was hgnihWrong; that Mary did not get better ?' That, she lingered for a while, and striving to bria'g a feeble, immor tal soul into this'earthly; light, laid down her own dear woman’s life, a willing sacrifice upon the alter. Shalt I 'Bay that Tip and Dick stood by holding. hands, when the first .Cry of tho struggune'dmmortal heralded’ her way to the homo-lit just' had quitted? How that tho poor motherless child found a guardian angel in Tip . i How else can I marry Dick to his wife’s sister? ' ... i The Case-Hardened One.. Bill Rigdbn, whose exploits down on Red River we, have mentions!! before, had-been drinking some; and contrary to his usual cus tom, was blowing considerable, and finally he said he could run -fasto*, jump higher, dive deeper, and cOme out drier,.chew more tobac er, drink more whisky; apd do more strange,, (jueer, and impossible things, than any man in the crowd, winding op'by offering to throw any man or fight a dozer; one at a time, then and there. A tall,' cadaverous, fever-and ague-looking ohap got up) and said: “I’m in for that last,stranger. I’m some on a wrestle myself, and l’ll fry you.” At it they )went; and Bill got thrown badly. They then tried jumping and Bill was eu chred again. There wrsi no water near to. experiment at diving in/sod Bill himself, pro posed' that they should-toy some whiskey. “ Wal," 'said fevor nndaguo, “ I don’t obaw tobaker, But I jist'kin; drink you dead drunk in an, hour. 1 ” . ' - ’■ 7 “ Never t” shouted B!|t; ! nnd they sat down, whiling tho time awap by playing euchre. Game after, game and gljiss after glass passed, without the least apparent effect upon the stranger,; wh'ilb Bill showed it badly, soon’Uot being able to toll the oajds.or even to handle them. ■ ■, '■i ... ■ At this stage the phi# ,facb’ arose, remark ing: •. ' ’- . , ... ~ “ Wal, I guess as hoirfyou’rc drunk enough, and of you’U make me pine drink, I’ll mount my pony and bo off.” , I “Whdt’ll yon have?!said the olerk. “ Got any brandy ?” ij . , ■ “Yds.”- P “ Put in a middling Jj-am." It was done. f ■ . “ Got any red-eye - “Yes." . ■ ' f “ VTal. 'a leetle of tilt. . Any turpentine?” , “Plenty." I■. “ Abeout a apnnefuljput in. Any red pop • f*Yos." . , - '• Shako* my. .boy,if you’ll put-in a leetlfflpr that aquafortis 1 see up there, I’ll take njijdrinkand be gone.” , “My,--—groaned Bill; “I should think yon would; I givo/it np. : I'm beat. Don’t drink, that, stranger, Wou’lldio, sure. I’ll neVer say drink agttin,| sw,earl won’t. ' Don’t drink it.” ■ ■ , : Amid the roars pf tlis crowd, the pale gent mount his pony and bantered away. BEAtmriri, Answers —A pupil of the Ab be Sioprd gave the foUpving extraordinary an swers: . . : • “What-is. gratitude ?*| “ Gratitude is the motiory of the heart.” “ "What' is hope ?" j “Hope is the blossoiilofhappiness." . “ What is the diffpreiie.between hope and desire ?” i “Desire is a-tree in leaf, hope is a tree in flower, and enjoyment h,a tree in.fruit." “ What is eternity ?" / ' “ A day without yesterday or to morrow— -a line that has no end.” ■ “ What is time ?” : “ A line that has two ends —i .path which begins in the cradle.and, ends intne grave.” “ What is God?” ; “ The necessary being, the sun of eternity, the machinist of nature, the eye of justice, the watch maker of the Universe, the soul of the world.” “ Does God reason ?’! “ Man reasons because ho.doubts; ha delib erates —ho decides, (led is omniscient; Ho never doubts—Ho therefore never reasons." We once heard ; an old fellow, famous .all over tho country for his tougli yarns, tell the following. Ho was telling what heavy wheat he had soon in Wow lark: . “My father,” said he, “once had a field of wheat, the heads of which were so close to gether that the wild turkeys when they came to eat it, could walk around on the top of it anywhere." , ‘ Wo suggested'that the turkeys must have been small ones. ... “No sir,” continued he, “ they were very large ones. I shot ona of them, one day, and when I took hold of his legs to carry him, his head dragged in the snow behind me." “ A curious country you must have had, to have snow in harvest time 1" ■ “ Well, I declare,” said ho, looking a littlo foolish, " I reckon.Tve goi a part of two siqrys mixed An Irishman ; being recently on trial for some offence, pleaded “not guilty;” and the. jury being in the'box, the State Solicitor proceeded to call Mr. xurkisson as a ■witness. With the utmost innocence, Patrick turned his face to the court, and said: “Do I understand, yer honor, that Mr. Fnrkisson is to bo witness foronenst mo again ?” The judge said, drily, “It scorns so.’’ “Well, thin, yer honor, I plade guilty, sure an’ yer honor plaise; not because I am guilty, for I’m as innocent as yer honor’s sucking babe, blit just on account of saving Misther Furkisson’s sotsl," A Young lleenan.— ln order to amuse the children on the Sabbath, a lady was engaged recently in reading to them in the Bible, the story of David and Goliah, and coming to a Sassage in which’ Goliah so boastingly and ofiantly dared the stripling, a little chap, al most in hia browsers, said, “ Skip that—skip that—he’s only blowln’: I wont to know who licked.” . BSY - A notice of a recent steamboat explo sion ends as follows: “The captain, swam ashore. So did the chambermaid, She was insured for .$75,000, and loaded with'iron.” JQS3y The following question will be discuss ed at the next moeting-of.the Frogtown Deba ting Society“ Which is the happier, » ne gro at a dance, or a hog in' a mud. hole i BST The best cure for laziness is strap 01 It can be had at any shoemaker s shop. . 7, m Doing Nothing. This is an occupation which ■wo might con sider qnito a general- one did we believe the many who make this answer to the question, what, are you doing? Bat really none can truly say he is doing nothing, for if ho is not engaged in some useful occupation he must he producing some injury to. the community in which he lives.' By his example ho would in culcate the principle that a person cun live without exertion, and so far as this example affects others, he seriously injures bis follows. This doing nothing is the hardest work in the world, and idleness afflicts the individual with poverty and overburdens him with debt. To get clear of the annoyance which those debts cause, and to obviate the influence of this pov erty, requires :nn effort twice as great as would otherwise bo expended, clear him from debt, fill his pockets with money, and give him en ergy to pursue a respectable and lucrative bu siness. There.are two classes of young men in this world—those who have parents posses sing-property, and those who have not. The former arc ruined if they do nothing, because they can or will support them in idleness, and the latter must work or become dishonest.— Dishonesty, systematically pursued, is a very laborious occupation, even wore it not atten ded with any risks. But as it is sure filially to ruin Inin who practices it, it is doubly foot ish as well as criminal to resort to it. No matter how wealthy parents may be, thay have no right to maintain their children in idleness. To do so is to enable those children to furnish the most deleterious example to those aronnd them. When a portion of the young spend their minority in Idleness and extravagance, those who witness such exhibitions envy their idle fellows, and excuse themselves from ex ertion on the ground that the world owes them a living; and this betrays the latter not only into idle, but into vicious courses. The world recognizes no such claim. It pays only for services performed, and in the exact value of those services. To those who do nothing, so ciety owes nothing, and it is not very apt to pay debts it does.not owe. Doing nothing is compelling society bv fraud or force to sup port you. It -is making yourself a burden to .others, who perhaps are but just able to sup port themselves. It weakens your powers, physical and mental, so that when you are finally compelled to work, you will find your energy gone and yourself finally cast as a pauper upon society. This is really doing something, and whoever is doing this cannot properly say he is doing nothing. He is do ing everything ho can to destroy himself and make himself a burden to society, and to such persons society cannot be said to owe a living. Whenj.snchj a .courso has been pursued for months, tthid 'feSrs,' the individual complains that ho is unable to. work.'. But he has wan tonly enfeebled his poweffl: and ruined his prospects; If he moans to stop short of entire destruction he must rouse himself; and if he cannot do one thing ho must do another.' It matters not whether the business suits him, or whether tho situation ho can get exactly accords with hie. tastes or inclination.. Some thing ho must take and steadily pursue, and for po host ofall considerations, namely, that he may recover the use of his prostrated fac ulties, and put himself in the way of doing something useful. Every day that this is no-, gleotod.makes, matters worse, and finally a physical as well os moral incapacity results. Dot the young then stop doing nothing as quick os possible. Under any circumstances it is bad business, and particularly ruinous to the young. • The habit of doing nothing, once formed, is very difficult to eradicate, and it should bo Shdtmed as the parent, of half the miseries that afflict, our race.,, To ,learn to work is always difficult,but tho difficulty may bo soon overcome. Be persistent ingoing something useful and work will soonbe found easy, and you will soon bo on tho high road to prosperity and fortune. Neglect, thii. and work will bo forever hard, and poverty? and regret will be your only companions.' Dissolving the Union. The. last Knickerbocker Magazine has the following, which is not had, either as a story or a speech: During the exciting campaign of 185—, in Illinois, a prominent politician made a disun ion speech at Quincy. After he was through, and before the crowd had dispersed, a man who styled “ the Aforesaid M. D.,”was called for. He was liftcd.upon tho platform, so “ el evated" that ho couldn’t stand without hold ing on to something. Ho said: “ Gentleman - and ladies, you’re talkin’ of dissolvin’ tho Union; you can't do it 1 Thar’s, that flag a-wayiu’ up thnr, called the star spangled banner; how ye a-goih' to divide that, ha! ' Aro ye a-goin’ to give the stars to the Norf and tho stripes to the Souf ? No sir roe; tho thing can’t he did. [Cheers.] •• “And thar’s that good old toon that the TBeM's a-playip’ wut tUarj called Yankee Doo dle ; how ye a-goin’ to dii'ulb *£•»<, eh ? Aro ye a-goin’ to give tho Yankee to tho JN'orlfm.J tho Doodle to tho Souff I say, boldly, tho thing can’t he did ! , [Cheers.] " And thar’s that stream of water a-ruhnin’ down thar called the ‘ Fathor-o’-Wnters bpw are you a-goin’ to divide that? Are ye a-goin’ to dam it up with Mason & Dixon’s lino ? ,1 say you can’t do it 1 Wal, you can’t 1— [Cheers.] “And thar’s tho railroad .layin’ out thnr; how are ye a-goin’ to divide that, oh ? Are ye' n-ngoin’ to tie it up with Mason & Dixon’s line? You can’t do it? [Cheers.] - “ And thar’s all the fast horses standin’ round; how are yo a-goin’ to divide them? old bosses! Are ye a-goin’ to run ’em Norf, and run ’em Souf, and run ’em East, and run ’em West? [Cheers.] “And thar’s all the handsome winimin’ round hero; how are ye a-goin’ to divide them ? Are ye gain’ to give tho old ones to tho Norf, and tho young ones to the Souf? Waal, you don’t. If you go to thunder you can’t dp it! [lmmense cheering.] “ And thar’s all tho feathered tribe and oth er birds a flyin’ about here, and the chickens and ogg’s-ncst, and tho yaller legs and black legs; how ye a-goin’to divido’pm, oh? Are yo a-gnin’ to give tho pullets to tho Norf, and tho cooks to the Souf.” [Tremendous choof ing.] Our reporter could hoar no more for tho roar of laughter which ensued, ns tho'“doctor” cavod in and fell from tho platform. B@~lt is a groat deal better to bo without a dollar, in the purse, than without a thought in the brain. Ho is happy whoso circumstances suit his temper, but ho is more happy who can suit his temper to his oirqumstances. Doan Swift said with much truth. It is useless for us to attempt to reason a man out of a thing he has never been reasoned in to.”. ■ Any fool can make a woman talk, but it requires a very clover man to make her lis ten." Tiger Chase Ij Baboons. ThcibllaWing account of a tiger chase is ex tracted: from-.the. North' Lincoln ‘ Sphinx,' a regimental .paper;., phhlished at Graham's Town. Tho writer, afterblinding to his spor ting experiences of'iill.kiifd»,ana in all quar ters of tho globe, declares that ho never wit nessed so novel or intensely, exciting a ebasb as that about to be described Not long ago I spent a few days at Fort Brown, a small mili tary post on the banks of the Great Fish.river, where my friend W. was stationed. One eve ning, as my friend and I were returning home, after a somewhat fatiguing day’s buekshoot ing, wo wore startled by hearing the most ex traordinary noises, not far from us. It seem ed as if all the demons in the infernal regions had been unchained, and were amusing them selves by trying to frighten us poor mortals by thoir horrid yelling.' We stood in breathless expectation, not knowing what could possibly bo the cause of this diabolical, row,, with all sorts of strangeconjoctures flashing.across our minds. Nearer and nearer the yelling and screaming approached, and presently the cause became visible to our astomshed eyesi, Some three or four hundred yards to.our right; upon tho ' brow of a small hill;, a spotted leopard (commonly called, in this country, a tiger, though much smaller than .the lord of the In dian jungles,) came in view,.bounding along with all the spaed and enprgy of despair, while close behind him followed an enormous pack of baboons, from whose throats-proceed-. ed the demoniacal sounds that had, a few sec onds before, so startled us. Our excitement in the chase, as you may suppose, was intense. l On went tho tiger, making for the river, the baboons following like avenging demons,- and evidently gaining ground upon, their nearly exhausted foe, though their exulting yells seemed each moment ioinoreaso his terror and his speed. They reached the stream, the ti ger still a few yards in. advance, and with a tremendous bound, he cast himself into its muddy waters and made for the opposite bank. Tho next moment his pursuers, in admirable confusion, were, struggling after him, and ns the tiger'(now-fearfully exhausted,) clamber ed on tho land .again,, the largest, and est of tho baboons. Were- close at -his beds; though many of the pack (tho old, the very young, and tho weakly) were still struggling in. tho water.' Inn few moments all hadipass ed from, our sight, behind the brow of the op posite bank; but their increased yelling;now stationary behind tho hill, told ns that the ti-. ger had met hie doom, and that their strong arms and jaws were tearing him limb from limb. As the evening was far advanced, and wo were still some miles from, home, we did not cross the river to ho in at the death; hut, next morning, a few hones and scattered frag ments of flesh and skin showed what had been the tiger’s fate. Oh our return home we wore told hysome Dutch gentlemen that such hunts .nrc.not uncommon when a tiger is rash enough to attaok-the young baboons, which often hap pens. All these creatures, for miles around, ; assemble and pursue thoir enemy, with ro- ; luntleßH-:fury to-.his death.. Sometimes:the chase, lasts-.for- days, but it invariably closes With' the. dostrutetion,.of tho tiger—a striking instonce that tho.idea.of -retributive justice is not confined’ to man alone. Doctoring in the Lockwood*. I want to report to you some of the experi ences of a a backwood’s young doctor. . His patients being of the excessively 1 ignorant class, he gets more fun than foes:— A few days ago I was called to a house on' a professional visit, where the inmates haven holy horror of ‘ calamy and laudamy.” While making my war into the good graces of the mother, by fondling upon ray knees a certain breochloss brat, I noticed a number of small bones attached to a string, and worn by the child as a necklace. Knowing the strange ‘belief in-charms, that Such , people sometimes have, & immediately, remarked—. ... . “ I see your child, madam, has find fhoii- i matisra.” , .... .. »■ “No, sir," says the worthy dame; “them thar are rattlesnakc’fl bones, pat thar to make Pete have an easy time cuftin’his. teeth?. Last spring, when the boys was ploughin’ down in the bottom, they ploughed up a powerful big rattlesnake, and I jest tuck him and bilod him three day and nights,* begltmin’ on ‘Fri day mornin’. I tuck the bones then and put ’em on a string, as you see thar, and made him wear -cm tell now. I reckon, doctor, ho was about as sick a child as you oyer seed when them bones was put on his neck; he begun to git better right off, and never has been sick from that day tell now. You spoke, doctor, about the rheumaty pains; I never hearn as it was good for them, but I expect it mout bo, seein’ it worked such a powerful kure on the toothing. The best thing J ever seed tried for the rheumatiz is take fqorpiooes of eel-skin, jist as wide asyour three fingers, and tie one on both ankles and one on both wrists.” ’ I remarked, “ No doubt that is very good.” "Yoa,” she chimed irt; “I have knowod that to kure when-all manner of doctor’s means has failed.” ,■ . “ Here the conversation took n pleasant turn weather and cropward, affording the young Esculapian an opportunity to make his farewell bow. “ Just as I was mounting my pony, Mrs. B— sang out— “ Doctor, is this medicine you left for Bet sey pizen ?” Having assured her of its anti-‘pizen’ qual ities, I rode back home to await another call of the same kind. A White Girl sued nr a .Negro for Breach of Promise. —A case is assigned for trial in the Superior Court next week, which has some peculiar features. Henry L‘. W. Thacker, a colored gentleman of some note, sued Miss L. M. S. Thompson, a white girl, for breach of promise of marriage. . Miss Thompson was for several years a servant or I housekeeper for Mr. Thacker, and while in I that capacity, as she claims, lent him mopey and trusted him for wages. After leaving his employ, she sued him fortho money, when he retaliated by bringing his suit against her, and her suit is awaiting tho decision of this. Able and zealous counsel have been employed on either side, and tho trial will probably oc cupy two or three days, as many witnesses will bo called to sh6w tho relations which these parties have hold to each other. Should a verdict bo given for tho sable suitor, it will bo a novel precedent. BIT* A youifg girl in Hartford, supposed to r BST Roger Sherman was a member of Con /r b“xvr e: dolpb, who had Indian blood in his veins, ? . 'J, 'd v _„f und_-tlmt,.ni.blood vessel onoo rose, and with bis squeaking voice said, „;n,’WVwV. ■ “I should like to know what the gentleman . ••, from Connecticut, before he came here,- did KT* A woman of “respectable appoar- his leather apron ?” Ur.-' Sherman, anco,” richly dressed, having one. hundred mimicking the same'squeaking sound, replied, and nineteen dollars in, gold! in her pocket, “I out it up to make moccasins for the do- and sneaking several different languages, was soendahts of Pocahontas.” found, one Sunday evening not long since, in : the main street of St. Louis, in a state of in -56?* The key note of the Republican music, tyxioatioo, singing and shouting like a freed'" — Darkey. and’romping school-girl. • mt ;• K7* Ho who 10 great, in defeat is half a conqueror. i * . > >'• in 'v I ■' >■ WjT Bcatity without virtue is like a flower without .perfume. , • ■ ' 55” The drop hollows hot the stone by force,.but frequent falling.. ii-; , • i [C7* The samb man' that owns the tool owns tho Now Foundland dog. . 05" finglos; fit Mono; they are but shoop that always herd-together.; tf you are'fob fat, and would like to fall off, mount a vicious horse. . O* Successful lovO ithkfeS"a load off our hearts and puts it on our shoulders. OP* Many a irian has tile public near, who has forfeited the right to wear his own. DP* Weheftrd a man.roniork.theiothorday that a fopl’s brains all lay in his .belly I , DIP’ Thdre is.aitind-of bow:whioh no man of spirit will return—the bow of condescen sion. ' i O’ Bo choice in your reading; read no indifferent production—except, perhaps, your self.' . ■ BP* People-..geniefally freeze in doubling the Cape, but a lady doubles hers to keep warm. ■ . _ tCT The hours ■are very fugacious, but nn exemplary husband is' careful to keep, good ones. .' ; BP* When a woman wishes to be very af fectionate to her lover she calls him a naugh ty mani... . , . ~ ’ : . v ' '1 ■ ■ - Vc.. (- I BP* We don’t admire ruffles, but you had better have : one to your shirt than to your temper. : I i OP* Most men-have in ' their souls' h’6 Mo- 1 ' comotives Strong enough to draw a train of thought.. , ' ■ : 'v=’ »«v l>s •••» •» if ■ DP* cost horses win cups by the use ..of their legs. ' Fast men lose their legs by the use of cups. : . • , . , , . , o 1 :‘'\i iv*. :>f.- .t;‘ BP* You Can’t fail sin and ignorance out of the worlds but it is easy, enough, to rail cat tle ont of a field. - , •’> .- - ■ , - . ,** >»»■ •» * ; 3P* Probably the men-ytho out bohsMho. possession : of the most varied and numerous gifts, are the beggars. BP* Navigators on - the sea of life. if tlioir' voyage is a Tong, one* .generally have: to scud at last under hare polls. . . BP* There. ip a tendency in all minds, and not in them alone, .to consider everything profound that is obscure. ‘ BP*.Wa eß&tflid*not. .envy that- man’s - feel ings who could see a leaf wither,.or a flower fall, without a slight feeling of regret. ~ : BP” It has been said, that there is d stele ton, in every house; certainly, in these .days,, 'every fashionable woman has one .about her. j. BP* Wo cannot eredt,- the Deity by dispar aging thomoblest of,•his/creatUrss/iOt inspire faith in Him - by divesting’ men of all faith - !n themselves. - - BP* A lady in Morgantown, Va., has baon.oonfin.ed.in.aa asylum by her friends, she.having become insane from the excessive use of tobacco. Heavy failures occurred in NowTorfc on Friday and Saturday dost., If rumord/aru correct,' in those two days upwards of ninety firms, went under. £7” He who, like an owl, shuts himself up from society and,daylight,, mustiexpect, to be hunted.apd hqcrted at like an owl,'whenever he chgnoes to appear. ” _ !, _ ID” Men’s native dispositions are.mostdis tinctly perceived whilst they, are',:children and when they are dying, as the, sun is bCst seen at his risjng and his sotting. ' £7” The world's master-spirits.can make the silence of their closets more ..beneficial to mankind,- than. ; all, the..noise and bustle of 'conrts, senates and camps. £7” It is the vice'bf the unlearned to sitp pose that the knowledge, of books is.of cww' count, and the vice of scholars ties tJiAoi'fhohj is no other knowledge worth -Saving. '. ' £7“ Sensible—T*o thick Soled, ■ walking shoos worn hr i/ioso,.ladies who have brains enough: w rfpfhebirftb good hoalthand the in dependence to wear what will protect if/, . £7“ A young man named Samuel Beary, /riood,. was recently set upbn.by a gang - of rowdies- in, the street, in St. Louis, and stabbed eight times, the wounds being mortal. " . , , £7” A young woman who considered her self quite, handsome and was vain of her gbod looks/ oh, recovering., from an attack .of, the* small-pox, which had. entirely- destroyed her beauty, committed suicide by taking a dose * of laudanum. ... £7“ Three young, girls. living in Boston, wore recently convicted;of highway robbery, on one of their.oWnsox.... It seems,that they.; had been “following the highway” for some time, and had done a pretty./fqir business in the footpad and robbing lines, . , , _ (C7* A young lady was instantly tilled by venturing too near a revolving shall: in a flour, mill, at Fort Atkinson,, dress' catching on. the shaft,' she was whirled around it with, gredt velocity, and when her body was at last rescued, it was a shapeless mass. (£7* A Troy paper says that eleven per sons have broken their legs in that city this winter by slipping and falling on the ice-mi the sidewalks that in every case it Was jh) left,leg-whioii. was broken, and that'.tVery, limb was fractured a few inches above the ankle. Sy A Hartford paper states that beggars have become, so daringin that city, that they go into houses in the absence of the-,head, of. the family, and intimidate, the. ladies into giv ing them alms. A revolver wouldhe-a bap- Ey thing for a Hartford lady to have ; in the ouse. NO. 39. --y-zH
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers