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VOIj. SO'
giiICAN JOLUNTEER.
rftusnw TnoaaDAT «on«H(a fr
IOIM B. BRATTON.
TERMS;
„-..rim>Tiox.—Two D"11 ora if paid within the
B ’!ml Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid
)*[.' ,1,. rcnr . Those torms will bo rigidly ad
»ilb'°.' in every instance. No subscription dia
unnod until all arrearages aro paid unless at
I", option of the Editor. ■ .
, nrEn risEUEKTS— Aocompaniod by the cash, and
..i exceeding ono square, will bo inserted three
f. .. for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents for each
Idditional insertion. Those of a groator length in
pfOpOrilt’i.
* Jab' Phintwo—Such as Hand-hills, Pogting-bill s
n.innblctaj liianlts, Labels, Ac. Ac., eioeuted with
■ tcn ;, ic y and at the shortest notice.
putt al.
KIGIIT MUSm
JIT J. nOWAUD WERT.
Ttra»^ ficn tho myitic spirit, night,
Ifad spread its gem-clad veil,
Wile thousand brilliant, bright-dyed orbs
. 'ltfiuod round iU mure uiuil,
jmcatb a vino-clad arbor's ahado
I fondly sought roposo •
•mm earth and care's tumultous throbs —•
trom earth and oarth-ligUt’s woes.
thought that I for weary years
Hud’ toiled for dazzling fame—
Ind toiled fur up tho giddy heights
Of science’s cloud-capped fame.
Pul there was in my weary soul
A sad.ft strange unrest;
As.mrclthrohbin'gof my heart
Prom out my tojl worn breast.
And then beneath fair Luna's rays,
And heaven's azure dome—
" Which sparkled with ten thousand gems
Of heaven's eternal throne :
thought, fair one, of thee, whose eyes
Outshine the evening star
rhicliguidusinto the opening port
Tho toil tosaod mariner.
Thus could thy smiles be turned on-me,
Forgot wore all'my care,
Intent to gaze upon thy f»ce,
And find ft 4, flesMno" there.
38tellaneona.
ADVENTURES OF A BASHFUL MAS.
Karry Gordon Singleton made bis debut
into the world on Friday. We deemed this
kt worth chronicling since it was an event
I'fsnme importance to our hero, and because
w* hope to show unbelievers that the old
, wying nhout tlie unluckincss of Friday iscor
| r«L From bis very birth Harry was stig
hitf7.ed. Ho- was an exceedingly pretty
tain*, fair complexion, blue cyc*d, brown
haired, plump and rosy ; but be was en
(Wd with a heritage far worse than a
hump hack, a club foot, nr a squint- eye—he
n* Mi fill 1 When the ladies came to look
rt him in hie cradle, and to call him “ little
I '’fiuty—the express image of his pa,” the
little ‘sweet* would invariably put bis fat
fM into his mouth and hide bis interesting
boo in Jiis pillow.
Mrs. Singleton—a fair faced, handsome
romnn—regretted very* greatly this nnfortu*
Me trail in the temperament of her beloved
first-born, and used every endeavor to break
hint of it but without success, and Harry
i; r ow up to youth the most bushful and retir
: it'2 of human beings. lie. was also.-eingu
i lirly unlucky. No child ever received so
' many thumps and bumps since the fall of
Alum; his forehead was a populous archa
pelagnof. blue, yellow and black bruises, in
Minus stages of coloring.
When* there was company at the bouse,
Harry generally retired to an unoccupied
f'Wm’in the attic, where, having ensconced
Wun?e\t in the bed which stood there, bo
passed th® day reading some old novel or
Wk of history, picked out of the great cheat
in (he garret used for the repository of rub
lAb; or, by way of variation, ho sometimes
Me refuge in the barn, and snugly bidden
the hny mow, time in silent
meditation on his unfortunate destiny. He
"wild walk a mile around through the fields
) n nvoid meeting a young lady; and when
j n Ihe street if he heard the sound of wheels
lie would leap over the wall or fence and lie
prone on the ground until the vehicle has
pwstd by. ,
As ho grew Cider, he lost none*of bis pe
culiarities, and before ho was sixteen years
nge, big mother’s chief difficulty was the
M that he would live an old bachelor. —
Hundreds of silver dollars sould not have
yinced him to speak to a girl of-his-age* and
hs father was obliged to forego his purpose
pending him to tho-Whitestone Academy,
M have him educated at the boy!s school. ,
notwithstanding Harry’s excessive |
wslifalness, he grow up to be ft fine fellow,
have, generous nnd handsome, *and there
not a girl in town but would have _felt
Jtoelf honored by his presence. ’ Harry,
ooweycr, stood aloof from all the female sox,
natural consequence, ho was the
jjji'joct of numberless practical jokes, nnd
ti 6 hapless occasion of continual giggling
among the gay girls at the singing school.
''oen Harry was nineteen, Rosalie Waters
Die to Whitestown to pass some time with
er aunt, Mrs. Judge Flanders. Rosalie
asa pretty, bright-eyed, mischievous fairy
and if the truth must be con
cbt ’ B i lo to °k a hking to Harry Sin-
Lnd “ut °f course she was too much of a
SJ to allow Harry to guess it. He, on
lj e P art * bought himself dead in love, tho’
fiK**??. not ra * fle -Wa to the peerless
»tckefl i* 8 u star. For whole days he
add , brain, planning how he should
8? r . without deciding on any
abohl °* no night at a singing-school
boldno l<ioa across his brain ; its very
offer ♦ BB it seem practicable, Ho would
l[l? S,Cortll(lSn > i ° homo!
Hod in nn au,]ft cious act, and Harry trem
wWM„ 0V . erj . limb at t,,8 thought of it; a
hi, I’ .'Pi.ration started out of every pore;
ae Mly stood erect, and his face
•tletnni OB tbo hosom of Vesuvius. lie
l ,,J kcdn t 0 hut liis fine tenor voice
Hi I,„n7 n > he coughed, hemmed, flourished
‘ildoKn • r °h'of, and was at last obliged to
Hie m 9 ai P a 'r.
’Hied 6 i C ' Bea evening closed. Harry
I' o toot *i ■ am J rushed to the entry, where
Ihroo.i, /II s . " ,llt ' on in full view of tho door
tr 'mBon K ", Roa[l lio would emergp. Her
Hi tcotli i a PP ea .red in tho doorway, and
litiun Wt , olat ' (!rO( ! in'his head, bat his reso-
Itr 4ir c „i- unB h a h c D. lie made a sortie in
ol >o a , knocking over little James
Brown the barber, and fearfully mutilating
the new calash of Miss Winn, the milliner,
In tho act; blit these were minor affairs, and
hot worthy of his notice. Hb touched the
shoulder of Rosalie.
“ May I—mhy—go home with you to-night
—this evening?" stammered he.
She put her little hand within his arm and
they went olit together into the starlight.—
Harry seemed to tread on air: This world
was this world no longer, but the charmed
paradise of impossibility, and he dared not
speak lest he should break the spell.
• The little lady too was strangely silent
and the entire distance to the house of Judge
Flanders was passed without a word. At
the door Harry would have bidden his com
panion pood night, but she retained his hand
and drew him into tho parlor ; and there tho
light of tho chandelier foil full on the face of
tho laughing woman, and with dread dismay
Harry saw that hot Rosalie but Mrs. Judge
Flanders herself stood before him. Ho had
waited on tho aunt and not the niece. Ut
tering an esclnmmation, he was about to re
tire, but Mrs. Flanders good humorodly de
tained him.
“Oh-don't go," she said kindly, you really
did bravely.. I am proud of you,; I know
from the first that you had rpade a' mistake,
but was fearful'you would never try again if
t denied your escort. Itosalie will bo in
soon; wait for her."
“Indeed, ma'am—l—should bo happy to
—not to—in fact ma’am, I believe I am
wanted at home." .
Starting for the door backwards, instead of
choosing that by which he had entered, he
bolted out into the - dark kitchen 'and seized,
the handle of the first door that offered. Mrs.
Flanders was following close, but before she
could utter a single word his “good night"
was succeeded immediately Ivjr a series of
thumps and rumblings in the direction of the
collar*
Tho truth hurst upon her at once, that he
had taken the cellar door and fallen down
stairs 1 She seized a light and flow down
the stops. There ho |ay with his head in a
trough of Ashes And his feet unromantically
elevated over the shelf of a neighboring cup
board. lie was considerably bruised and
stunned but not otherwise injured. Mrs.
Flanders would have raised him up but he
anticipated her, and without stopping to
shake himself, bounded up stairs and made a
•dive for the outer door, the ashes streaming
out behind him like a cloud of gray smoke.
The door was opened from without, and
Rosalie herself appeared. At sight of the
hatless, smokihg Ilarry, she uttered a loud
shriek and- fell fainting to the floor, while
our horp dashed over her prostrate form and
took the track for home at a speed unequaled
in the annals of races. Jlrcathless and
used up generally’, the young man reached
homo, crawled in at a hack window and re
tired to his bed, which hekept for three days
afterwards.
In spite of all apologies and flattering
courtesies from Mrs. Flanders—in spite of
gentle, affectionate advances from Uosalie.
herself, Harry Singleton could never be
tempted to step inside, the mansion of the
Judge ; and Rosalie, after waiting two years
for Ilarry to make himself agreeable to her,
gave up the vain hopes and became the wife
of a substantial widow with -four children,
which was quite a good beginning.
Harry went on his way alone, as his moth
er had feared and prophesied, and exemplary
little about learning him to re
pair stockings and replace bottoms With com
mendable patience. lie had studied.for the
law, had been two years admitted to the bar,
and was a talented and rising young man.—
Heinj» also wealthy and handsome, half the
ladies in the village were in love with him,
but he gave them a wide berth and passed
them by.
Mr. Singleton dabbled somewhat in poli
tics, and at the early age of thirty, he was
elected Member of Congress. In celebration
of this event a grand supper in his honor was
gjven at the Whitestown Hotel. Of course,
the successful candidate must be presented,
and eptiquette demanded that he should,
bring a lady with him. The committee of
arrangements waited upon him toinform him
of this fact, and it may well bo believed the
communication filled him with horror. He
bogged of the gentlemen to provide him a
partner if ho must have one stipulating only
that the lady should not he a young lady.—
In due course of time he was informed that
bewfts to attend Mrs. Grubbins, the widow
of the late Dr. Timothy Grubbins, the
wealthiest as well as the tallest and latest
woman in the whole county.
The eventful evening arrived. Mr. Sing
leton took Mrs. Grubbins to the hotel 'in a
chaise. The lady was magnificently attired
in a double-skirted tarleton, with ribbons,
feathers.and fearfully extended crinoline.
Poor fellow 1 The thought of escorting
that giantess into a room filled 'with people
made him sweat .like one under the inflonce
of a powerful of ipecacbuana* "But he was
in for it and must gob out the best way he
could. Mrs. Grubbins, proud and trium
phant, preceded him, breaking the passage,
and compelling lesser people to yield the
ground. Just as she arrived on the thresh
old of the banqueting hall, she dropped her
fan; and just at that moment the audience
perceiving him in the background proposed
“ three cheers for Hon. Mr. Singleton."
Stooping to reclaim the fan, when the en
thusiastic multitude looked for their champi
on he was nowhere visible. Cries ran round
the the room loud and vehement; “Mr.
Singleton! where is Mr. Singleton 7" and
directly Mr. Singleton looking very hot and
very much confused, appeared from under
the upper skirt of Mrs. Grubbins’ dress—
that lady having completely submerged the
honorable gentlemen in the folds of her dra
pery. Gentlemen smiled . in their sleeves,
and ladies giggled behind tlieir handkerchief.
Mrs. Grubbins looked more regal than over
and Mr. Singleton leaned against a pillar for
support.
The announcement of dinner was a great
relief. Judge Flanders presided ; Mr. Grub
bins occupied the seat at Singleton's right;
Miss Falmbeaux sat at his left,and Lucy
Deane, the village belle was his vis-a-vis.
■ Our hero's position was exceedingly em
barrassing to one of kis peculiar tempera
ment, daring not to refuse anything that was
offered him, lest some one should look at him,
and the consequence was his plate literally
Vroaned beneath its'woight of odiblos. - To
mato sauce—his especial horror, passed
around ; a preserved platefull was nllotod to
him, from .which he attempted to swallow,
but it only-stuck fast in. his throat; it ohoak
ed and-sickened'him, and sot him to cough
ing violently. • , „
“You havet6|ken a severe cold I presume
remarked Miss-Flambeaux.
“ Yes madam, thank you, I have,” return
ed Singleton, trembling on the verge another
sneeze. , ’
“Why don't you oat your tomatoes 7 ' quor-
Mrs. Grubbins. “My poor dead end gone
Daniel used to say there was nothing in the
“OUR COUNTRY—MAY XT ALWAYS BH RIGHT—BUT'RIGHT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY.”
whole vegetable empire equal to toma
toes."'
“No doubt, madam, they ore very.fine
aßd Singleton essayed a second, spoon full.—
Ihd shdand dose had well nigh beer, too much
for him, and with ddsperato resolve ho watch
ed until tho '-whole company vtbro engaged
in drinking a toast, when he tilted the pre
serve dish and let its contents fqn into the
napkin’, which receptablo he whiffed into his
pocket without delay, and immediately felt
eaaior. A moment alter Judge Flanders pro
posed a sentimenti
May he always retain tho title of “ honor
able," but may he soon resign his seat to bo
called single. It is not good for man to bo
alone."
The sentiment was drank with applause.
Singleton, blushing red at the insinuation
conveyed by tho words of Judge, thrust his
hand m his pocket for his handkerchief, when
instead out came napkin, tomatoes and all.
Mopping hie forehead vigorously with it, and
the luscious vegetable formed an unctuous
Doulticb thereon—completely taansfiguring
hie countenance. Blinded with tho juice,
ano half dead with mortification, ho thrust
tho napkin back into his pocket and secured
the handkerchief, while the astonished com
pany beheld him in silent nmaxeraent.
“ Does your noso bleed, sir ?” inquired
Mrs. Orubbins, quite audibly.
“What the Goodness is the matter?"
screamed Judge Flanders.
“ Ahem ! only a slight cold, thank-you sir,"
stammered Mr. Singleton.
“ A cowld is it ! Faith now* an* yer hon
or’s nose must bo after turning itself inout
thin I’’ exclaimed Mr. O’Toole, the Irish or
ator.
Lucy Bean was laughing ; Flambeaux was
horrified ; M rB; Grabbles looked shocked ;
our friend Singleton was nearly suffocating
with shame. LeAning back in his chair to
recover his breath, and as soon as ho could
speak begged to bo excused a moment as he
did not feel quite Well. And forthwith he
aros and made for the door ; of
horrors I—ho had sot on’the pocket contain
ing the napkin of tomatos and his white
pantaloons were dripping red with the san
guinary vegetable 1 f)
A simultaneous shriek hursbfrom all as
sembled.
“ Good Gracious, Mr. Singleton is wound
ed ! Murder I Murder ! Call a physician !
Seize the murderer 1 Send forßr. Spillpower.
Quick —he’ll bleed to death 1 Murder! Mur
dofl
. The infuriated audience rushed hither and
thither, and some one encountering John the
waiter with a carving knife in his hand,
took him for the perpetrator of..tho crime and
seized upon him without delay. John strug
gled and swore, and laid about him with
right good will, but ho Was overpowered by
numbers and at last obliged to yield. There
was, a regular fight, and black eyes, and
swelled noses, added largely to the beauty
of the scene. The Indies fled to the ante-room,
Judo Flanders ran for a surgeon, and during
the melee Singleton made his escape. No
grass grew beneath his feet as he sped' for
home but the night being dark, and
he being very slightly flustered, ho 'un
fortunately mistook the house, and entered,
not his own residence, but that of a correct
old spinster named Mary Willis. The houses
were somewhat similar, and Singleton, with
out pausing for a light, rushed up stairs and
into his own chamber as he thought, where
breathless and exhausted he flung himself
upon the bed.
Mary had retired some time previous and
the sudden advent of Mr. Singleton aroused
her from a sound slumber. Springing from
the bed, regardless of the fact that her teeth
wore out and her “ natural’’-curls reposing
in the bureau-drawer, she fled to the house
of her nearest neighbors, and securing assis
tance returned to meet the Horrified Sing
leton just onerging from the door.
■Poor Singleton tried to explain, but Miss
Willis would listen to nothing ; her reputa
tion was ruined she said, and Singleton must
either settle or marry her ? A fifty dollar
hill was given freely ; mending the broken
character and learned Singleton never to go
to bed in the dark.
The affair at the Whiteatown ITotel'was a
rather serious one. 'The orator O’Toole had
his nOse broken; Dr Spillpowdor broke his
horse’s wind- to got there before ho should
bleed to death ; John, the waiter broke the
heads of half a dozen gentlemen who assisted
in his capture; and Judge Flanders broke
nil the buttons off his waistbands running af
ter the surgeon and shouting murder.
Mr. Singleton is yet unmarried, ns fine a
fellow as you could wish ; and if you want to
see fyim blushing, just mention tomato sauce
to him.
Cui.oßofonir in Neuralgia.—The Edin
burgh M’edionl Journal contains an account,
by Dr. Little, of-his succcsful mode of applying
chloroform ■in neuralgia. . Dr. L.'s mode of
application- is, to take a piece of lint a lit
tle less in size than the watch-glass to he os-
need not be more than two inches
in diameter—putting it on the hollow side of
the glass, pouring on it a few drops of chlor
oform sufficient to saturate it, and then apply
ing it at oncoto.the part nffooted, keeping
the edges of the glass closely applied to
tho skin, by covering it with the hand for
tho purpose of keeping it in position, as well
ns of assisting tho evaporation of tho chlor
oform. This is done from five to ten min
utes, according to tho amount of irritation
wished for. Tho patient during this time
will complain of gradual increase of burning
sensation—not so severe ns that produced by
a mustard sinapism—which roaches its height
in five minutes. To insure the full operation
of tho remedy, it is necessary that the watch
glass he rather concave, that it bo closely ap
plied to the skin, and that tho hand applied
over it bo sensibly The immediate ef
fect of the apnlioation-is uS reniOTe all local
pain in neuralgia.—T'w- ■
■pfi.
Tnti Heart.— Drl tee, iin, eminent physi
cian, asserts that he has discovered—by-what
means we are not told—*tbst the
organ or seat of the nervous sensibility m
the highest degree—not the brain, ns has
long been .supposed. Therefore, the Bible,
when it speaks of the heart-broken, theheart
sorrowing, the heart-grieving, the heart-blee
ding, does not,use language unwarranted by
physiological- science, but what the recent
discoverers of that science have demonstra
ted to be literdllyUmo.
(£7" A School hoy being asked by his
teaoher how he should flog him, replied ; ■ If
you please, sir, I should like to havo it upon
the Italian system of penmanship—the heavy
strokes upward and the down ones light I',-
A SrißiTEt) Bov;—A mile or so from town
a man met a boy on horseback, crying with
cold. ‘ IVhy don’t you get off and lend the
horse ?’ said the ma, • that’s the way to get
warm.’ ‘ It's a b-b-b-horrowed horse, and
I’ll x-i-ride him if X fteese.’
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 7; 1864.
FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS,
STRENGTH’ AMb THINKING.
’** I wish I was as strong as Edgar Welsh,"
said Samuel Aokorly.
“What would you do?" said Abner
Holmes.
“ I would flog every one who insulted mo."
“ What if nobody insulted you ?”
“ Then I would let them alone.”
“In that case you would hove no use for
yoUr strength.'’
“ I could find something to do with it.”
"I had rather have s strong mind than a
'strotig body." . _
“ You would liavb n i objection to both."
"One-lias seldom on occasion to iiso great
bodily strength j mental strength is always
wanting."
.“What for?"
“ To think and act With."
“1 don’t know ns it requires mticli strength
to think with. Everybody thinks more or
less."
“ Yes, but bow do thoyltlnnk? What sort
of work do they make of it?” “
“ As their operations are carried on within
doors, the differences, if there are any. arc
not seen. I don’t see that their is much dif
ference in men’s thinking: some men can
talk better than others, and some men can
form stronger resolutions than others.”
Samuel had not a very clear idea of what
thinking consisted jn. It was an operation
with which ho was not very familiar. l)oes
the reader know what it is to think ? What
is thinking? Is it imagining that you are
rich and great? Is it forming fancy pic
tures? Is it remembering what lias hap
pened? No. It is seeing truth—not with
the bodily eye. -The eye of itself does not see
objects. It is the mind that secs objects, by
means of the eye, and the mind can see
things that have neither form nor coloring.
It can see invisible spiritual truth. Think-'
ing is thus seeing truth. It is understanding
the reasons of things. It is foreseeing things.
The great object of education ja to learn to
think. Studies may bo pursued, or rather
books may bo committed to memory, and yet
there may be very little exercise of thought.
The pupil must understand what lie studies,
must see for himself, that which ho is re
quired to assent to’ is true. Seeing for one
self is very different from believing on the
testimony of others. One may tell you t iere
is l a horse in the meadow, and you'may be
lieve. him. But if yoU turn your eye to the
meadow and see the horse there* you have a
much clearer idea of the fact*
There are great differences in men’s thin
king powers. It is in a great measure owing
to the fact that some men exercise theirthin
tking powers and others do not. If you were
never to uso your right arm.it would become
feeble and useless. It must bo exercised in
order to gain strength. So if our capacity
for thinking he not exercised it will become
feeble. * It must be exercised in order to gain
strength. Let every young person, male or
female, resolve to learn to think*
Capital Answers.—A professor of univer
sal knowledge had a prince,who suddenly
came in upon tho pretender,and put his wis
dom to the test:
‘So thou knowost all things,” said the
king ; then toll mo to-morrow morning
these throe things only, or thou shall
lose thy head.
First—how many baskets of earth there
are in yonder mountain ? Secondly—-how
much is the king worth ? And 'thirdly, what
is the king thinking of at the time.
" The professor was distressed beyond meas
ures, and in his apartments rolled upon the
carpet in agony, for he knew that, he ninst
die on the morrow. His servant learned the
trouble and offered to appear before tho
king and take his ohaneb of answering the
questions.
The next morning the -.sevant, clothed in
his master’s robes, presented’ himself to his
majesty, who was deceived by Ins appearance
and the king proceeded ;
‘ Tell me, now. how many baskets of earth
are in yonder mountain ?”
“ That depends hpon circumstances. If
the baskets are as largo ns the mountain,
one will hold, it, if half ns largo, two, if quar
ter, four; and so on." • I
The king had to be satisfied and proceed
ed.
“Now tell me how much the king is
worth ?”
Well your majesty, tho king of'Heaven
and Earth was sold for thirty pieces of sil
ver, and I conclude you are worth one
piece.”
This was so witty an escape, that the
king laughed and went on. ■
“ Now once more, tell me what I am think
ing of?"
“ You are now thinking that you are talk
ing with the professor, whereas it is only his
servant." • ; ...
“ Well done," said tho king, you shall
have your reward*, and your master shall not
lose his head,”
"Now 1 Lat Me Down to Sleep."—Gen
eral Hugh Brady, well known ns one of tho
most hferitorious officers of the United States
Army, died some years ago, in Detroit,
Michigan. Some time before his death he
was severely injured by being from
a carriage \nnd when his physician told him
he could‘ffif recover with that calm self-pos
session so indicative of true courage, ho re
plied : “ let the drums beat, my knapsack is
slung.”
As tho General sank under disease, he be
came partially unconscious, and his mind
wandered back to tho scenes of his active
life. Ho was again an officer high in corn
man, marshalling hie army on the battle
field ; then a subaltern, obeying tho orders of
his superior; again n„sehoo!-boy, conning
over his lessons, and finally a child at his
mother’s knee, until, as ’the night of death
closed around him forever, he murmured —
“Now I lay me down to sleep.
I piny the lord my soul to.keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray tho Lord my soul to take.
ICTA colored firm in Newark, N. J; bar
ing suffered some pecuniary embarrnaments,
recently closed business, and the senior mem
ber gave to the public the following “ notis,
“Do dissolution of ooparsnips heretofore
resisting twixt me - end Moses Jones in de
barber profeshun, am heretofore.resolved. —
Pussons wbot oao must pay de scriber. Dem
whot do firm owes must call on Jonee as de
firm ain insolvee."
On a very rainy day, a man entering
bis house, Was accosted by bis wife in the
following manner; , ,
• Now my dear, while you are wet, go and
fetch me a bucket of water.'
Ho obeyed, brought the water .and threw
it all over her, saying at.tbo same tune:
1 Now,- my dear, while you are wot, go and
fetch another.?
Getting Out of One’s Self.
There is a strange propensity among paen
and women to escape from their own person-'
nlity, and to pass themselves off for some
thing very different from what nature in
tended them to be. "We are apt to sneer at
‘self-satisfied' people, but-really, there are
so few self-satisfied people in the world, that
for .very rarity wo ought to cherish them.—
This propensity is not acquired, but innate
and exhibits itself at a very early ago. How
fond children are of disguising themselves
in the clothes of their playmates, or putting
on grandfathers hat and boots, or grand
mother's cap and spectacles I A children's
fancy ball is the most joyous festival in life ;
the little creatures enter with such zest into
their transformation. * Children of a larger
growth,' too (> relish a masquerade more than
any other kind of amusement. People are
more anxious to seem than to be. It would
be a happy world indeed, if the barquesthat
mivigate the ocean of life always sailed un
der their true colors; but too many of them
arc free rovers, with fifty flags in their lock
ers. ready to hoist any ensign upon occasion,
and never prepared to give their true hail.
The futility of such disguises heightens
their absurdity. In thtt long run g man's
true character ia sure to bo discovered, the
stoled hypocrite, the cowardly soldier, the
sham patriot, the false philanthropist, arc
suro to have their masks torn from their fa
ces, and their borrowed garments rent from
their limbs. The' 4 livery of Heaven' may
for a while cover a number of sins, but soon
er or later the plague spots will bo disclosed
to view. The evil spirit in a man displays
itself when least expected, in spite of every
precaution, like the imp in the Gorman le
gejpd.’ A peasant vVa haunted by one-of
those little demons, night and day. Finally
he bethought himself of a sure remedy. He
would mov.c,to another cottage,.and-so-baffla
his persecutor. As the last load of furniture
was moving off on the cart, the cover of a
churn flew off, and out popped the head of
his familiar demon. 4 X’fn going too/ was
the unwelcome assurance of 'the unpleasant
acquaintance. It is so with a man's person
ality, he cannot escape it,
\Ve have spoken of cases of deliberate de
ception, of disguises “used from motives of
fraud and gain; but wc are happy to believe
that only a small fraction of the human race
are interested impositors. The mass rather
seek to impose upon themselves, not on nth-*
ers. There are hundreds of thousands of un
happy wretches Who ihney that they are
born poets, and waste oceans of ink and
cords of paper in trying to convert an un
grateful world to their opinion. There are
hundreds of thousands of empty-headed,
idealess, stammering idiots, who, forgetting
their natural qualifications, try to transform
themselves Into orators, and who dream
nightly of the laurels of Demosthenes and
Cicero. There are men without the first no
tion of color, form and taste, who try to per
suade themselves and the public that they
are Bonn Brummels. There are men who
cannot fire a gun without winking, who strut
in the uniforms of brigadier-generals. We
have seen more than one individual, design
ed by nature fora dashing cavalry officer en
gagedin the peaceful occupation of selling
tape, thread and needles to smiling damsels.
Liston, the actor, whose face was so comic
that a sight of it always set the house in a
'roar, labored to his dying day under the im
pression that his legitimate line was the
deepest tragedy ; and bo would have played
Hamlet and Macbeth, if his manager had per
mitted.
The persistent effort of every man ought
to be to discover the purpose for which na
ture intended hi'm, but this, wo admit, is the
most difficult problem that is offered us for
solution. To ‘ know one’s self’ is .the acme
of knowledge. This knowledge rarely comes
from within, almost always from without,—
The pressure of circumstances, the sharp
contact of the pitiless world teaches it to us;
■but often, alas, the knowledge comes too
late. In ordinary times hundreds of thou
sands play parts for which they are unfitted..
In revolutionary times, when society is sha
ken to its foundation, the separate netors
that compose it are finally jostled into their
proper places. ■ The son of a pastry cook be
comes, like Murat, a warrior, a general of
cavalry, and a king. The sub-lidutenant of
artillery is heaved up by events into his po
sition as master of the world. But in normal
periods it is difficult to place tho actors on
the stage of life.
• The square mbit get stuck in the round
holes, and the round men are thrust into the
square holes.’ To ptlt the right, man in tho
right place is tho problem of every age. and
the difficulty lies in the persistence of bo ma
ny in trying to got away from themselves.
CnonsiNO HtTsdANDs. —When a mar
ries,why do people talk of her choice ? In
ninety-nine cases ont of a hundred has she
any choice ? Does not the man. probably tho
last she would have chosen, select her ? A
lady-writer snys:—‘ I have been married ma
ny years ; the” match Was considered a good
one, suitable in every respect,—ago, position
and fortune. Every’ono said I had made a
good ehoieo. I loved my husband when’l
married him, because by unwearied assidui
ty, he had succeeded in gaining my affections,
but had choice been my privilege, I certainly
should not have chosen him. As I look at
him in his easy-ehair, sleeping before tho fire
a huge dog at Ilia feet; a pipe peeping out of
the many pockets of Ins shooting-coat, I can
not but think how different ho is from what I
would have chosen. My first penchant was
for a clergyman ; he was a flatterer, and oared
hut little for mo, though 1 have not forgotten
the pang of his desertion. My next wad a
lawyer, a young man of immense talent,
smooth, insinuating manners; but he, too, af
ter walking, talking, and danoingand flirting,
left me. Either of these would have been my
‘choice;’ but my present husband chose mo,
and therefore I married him. And this, I
cannot help thinking, must be the way with
half the married folks of iny acquaintance.’
Reynolds's Miscellany.
Effects of Love. — A correspondent says :
“It is my duly to impress upon you, Mr.
Editor, the certain fact that one half of our
young people lose their senses When they
lose their hearts. One of our party ha's al
ready written five letters to his lady-love,
and goes about groaning and sighing in a
most pitnblcf toannef. He has iio appetite
and sleeps Up at the top of the house, close
to tho moon. He cannot stand by one of tho
columns of the piazza, without putting his
arras around its waist, and I caught him kiss
fng an apple to-day,- because it had red
cheeks.’'
A Thin’dn.—An Irishman remarked to
his companion, on observing a lady pass.-—.
Pat, did you ever see so thin a woman as
that?’ ‘Thin,’ replied the. other, ‘ bother
shune, I seen a woman as thin n« two of them
put together, I have.’
Editing a Paper.
Editing a paper now is a very pleasant
business. If it contains too much political
matter, people won't have it. ’■
If it contains too little, they won't have it.
If tho typo is largo it don’t contain enough
reading matter. *
If the type is small, people can’t rend it.
If wo publish telegraph reports folks say
they are nothing but lies.
If we omit them, they say wo have no en
terprise, or suppress them fur political ef
fect.
If we have in o few jokes, folks say we are
nothing but a rattle-head.
If we omit jokes, they say wo are an old
fossil.
If wo publish original matter they scold us
for not giving selections.
If wo publish selections folks say we are
lazy for not writing more and giving them
what they have not road in aome other pa
per.
If we give a man complimentary notices
we are censured for being partial.’
If wo do not, oil hands say we ore gree
dy:
If wo insert an article which pleases tho
Indies, men become jealous.
If wd do not cater to their- wishes, the pa-'
per is riot fit to have in tho house.
If wc attend church, they say it is only for
effect.
, If wo do not, they denounce us as deceit
fill and desperately Wicked.
If wc speak well of any act of the Presi
dent folks euy wfi dare not do otherwise.
If wo censure they call us a traitor.
If wo remain in the attend to
business folks say wo are too proud to min
gle with our fellows.
If we go out they say we never attend to
business.
If we do not pay.oiir billS'plroraplly folks
say we are not to bo trusted.
If we do pay promptly they say we stole
the money.
If wh wear poor clothes they say business
is poor.
If wo, wear good ones they say wo an? a
spendthrift. ,
Now what is a poor fellow to do ?
Warning to Girls,-** 1 lie has only a few
faults.'" How many fair young girls aro de
ceived, or deceive themselves by this specious'
reasoning I lie only smokes a little and
chows a little, and drinks a little—never
passes the bounds of sobriety. Ile-israther
fond of amusement—what man of spirit is
not? 'True ho is seldom at home—but the
idea of a man sitting forever by the chimney
corner is ridiculous I He is fond of dress
but tben he is so handsome I
All these little straws that point the way
the wind of ruin blows, ore regarded as triv
ial things—only a few faults. After mar
riage, when the smoking, the chewing, and
drinking have become confirmed habits, the
foolish wife sings a sadder strain/ Then her
children want for shoes, but her husband
never for segars nnddrink. Her own clothes
are patched and mended—not so the broken
windows and bis wretbed habits. The lew
faults, like grains of’ mustard seed have 1
grown and increased a hundred fold. Hue
bills come in—the rent is unpaid; friends
forsake the drunkard’s family.
Then comes the miserable expediency of
moving into a miserable house, minus all
conveniences. Where the rain pours into
the garret, and the rats tramp, tramp all
night-rwhere the children* get cold, grow
sick and dio with fever; and the heart-broken
woman sits up till morning gray, to stitch
her ill-paid work, turning over and anon,
with a stifled sigh, to gaze through tears
upon the stifled corpse.
Sometimes she starts. The fitful winds
drumming upon the blinds—was it his stop.
And soon she is childless, and sick and dy
ing—and she does breath her last, while he
who had once “ only a few faults,' 1 sings and
shouts in drunken brawls at the post-tavern
and the rum-cellar.
This true picture Ims been a thousand
times painted.-ard its duplicates hung up
in the sad chambers of how many thousand
hearts ? And yet, the thoughtless girl, blind
ed by passion, heedless of consequences, re
iterates. “He has only a few faults,*'and
gives herself up to corruption more noisome
than the grave, and to a fate the’ horrors of
which no pen can portray.
Morning.— -The best part of the day for
most purposes, is in a great measure lost by
most persona. There id no question qf it. It
is either lost in sleep—between sleeping and
waking—feeble efforts to rise—buttoning
op the toilet, or in a state of trifling indecis
ion what, to take hold of first. Let habit
have its due influence in the case, and there
can bo no doubt but that early morning is
the most advantageous time for effort of any
kind, physical or mental. What an impor
tant part of most, peopled lives is lust! So
Walter Scott’s evidence to anything which
relates to experience in great performance
will he taken without reserve. lie says,
".When I got over any knotty difficulty in a.
storv, or have had in former times a passage
in a’poem, it has always been when I first
opened my eyes that the desired ideas throng
ed upon meV This is so much the ease, that,
I am in the habit of relying upon it, and say
in"- to myself when I am at a loss, ‘ we shall
have it at six o’clock to-morrow morning.'—
If I have forgotten a circumstance, or a
name, or a copy of verses, it is the same
thing. I think the first hour of the morning
is’favorable to bodily strength. Among oth
er feats, when I was a young man I was able
to lift a smith’s anvil by what is called the
horn I but I could only do this before break
fast, and required my whole strength undi
minished by the least exertion.—-AT/ieciaiirf.
[CT Those persons who hove reached the
age of forty-five the Inst draft,- should .at- once
go before' a magistrate iind make' oath of the
fact and have their names stricken from'the
enrollment boots. This course would save
inconvenience to themseves and the draft
officers/ ■ '
fy An Irish drummer, who now and then
indulged himself in right good potheen, was
accosted by the inspecting Genera!-'- 1 What
makes your (ace look eo red V 1 Pkue your
honor, 1 replied Fat, ‘.I always blush when I
snCak to a General officer.’
' Avoid argument with ladies. In Spin
ning yafns among silks and satins, a man
is sore toho worsted and twisted. And when
a man is worsted and twisted, ho may con
sider himself wound up.
jgy Mental pleasures never obey; unlike
those of the body, they are increased by rep
etition, approved of by .reflection, and
strengthened by enjoyment.
SSf~ Moving for a new trial—Courting a
ssoond wifs.
Lioal Intilioence.—A countryman 'walk
ed into the office of Lawyer Barns, one day
and began his application ; '
‘ Barns, I have come to get jour advice irt
a case that is giving me some trouble.'
‘Well what is itf’
‘ Suppose now,’ said the client, ‘ that •
man had one spring of wntbr on his land, and
his neighbor below should bulid a dhni
across its-oreek through both of their farms,
and it was to back the water up into the oth
er man’s spring; what ought to bo done f’
‘Sue him, suo him by all means,' said the'
lawyer, who always became excited in pro
portion to the aggravation of his clients.—
‘fori can recover heavy daniages, sir, and
the law will make him pay well for it. Just
give me' the,.case, and I’ll bring the money,
from him, and if he hasn’t a great deal of
property, it will break him up, air.’
* But stop, Bnrna,’ cried the terrified appli
cant for legal advice, ‘ its I that built the dam
and its neighbor Jones that owns the spring,
and he threatens to sue mo.’
The keen lawyer hesitated d moment befor#
he tacked his ship and kept on.
* Ah 1 well, sir, you say you built » dam ac
ross that creek. What sort of a dam was it;-
sir?'
1 It was a mill dam, sir/
* A mill dam far grinding grain, Was itf*
* Ye« it was Just that/
4 And it is a good neighborhood mill i a
* So it ia, sir, find' you may well say so/
‘And fill your ncigbors bring their graid
to be ground do they?'
, ‘Yes, sir, fill but Jones/
‘Then it is a public convenience, is it not? 1
‘To be sure it is. 1 would not have built
it but for that. It is so far superior to any
other mill, sir.' * 4
* And now/ said the old lawyer, ‘you toll
me that man Jones is complaining just be
cause the water from your dam happens to
put back into his little spring, and ho is threa
tening to sue you. Well, all I have to sayil
to let hiln sue you, and he will rue the dayad 9
sure as my name is earns/
To YottNO Men.— Whatever may be your
choice of future occupation—whatever call
ing or profession you may select—there is
more honorable than that of d
farmer. The patriarch of the fields as ho
sits beside his cottage door when the toils of
the day are ovek, feels an inward calm never
known in the halls of pride. His labor yields
him unpurchaseable health and repose. I
have observed, with more gHbf and pain than
I can express, the visible tokens which ap
pear in all directions, of a growing disposi
tion to avoid agricultural pursuits and to rush
into some of the overcrowded professions, be
cause a corrupt and debasing tfashion hag
thrown around the tinsel of imaginary re
spectability. Hence the farmer; instead’of
preparing his child to follow in the path of
usefulness he himself has trod, educates bin!
fur a sloth ; labor is considered vulgar, to -
work ia ungenteel, the jack-plane is leas re
spectable than the lawyer's green hag, the
handles of the plow less dignified than thb
yard-stick. Unfortunate infatuation I How
melancholy is this delusion, which, Unless it
be checked by a wholesome reform in public
opihion, will cover oUr Jjounbry with wreck
and ruin I This state of things is striking fti
the very foundation of our national great
ness; it is upon agriculture that wo mainly
depend for our continued prosperity ; and
dfirk and eVil will be tlio day when it falls
into niareputo. What other pursuit offers so
sure a guarantee of an honest independent
family ? Where else can we look but to the
productions of the soil for safety of invest
ment and for ample return 7 In commercial
speculations all is chance and uncertainty,
change and llucturtioh, rise arid fall. In
the learned professions scarce one in tori
makes enough to meet his incidental expen
ses ; how then are wc to account for this fa
tal misdirection of public opinion ? The cul
tivators of t!ie cartn are the most valuable
citizens. They are the most virtuous, and
they are tied to their country, and wedded to
: its liberty and interests by the most lasting
bonds.— Jcjfersnn . c
Putting Things. —To no man is tael in
putting things more essential than to the cler
gyman. An injudicious nnd. unskillful
preacher may so put the doctrines which ho
sots forth (is to make them. appear revolting
and absurd. It is a fearful thing to hear a,
stupid fellow preaching upon the doctrine of
election. lie may so put that doctrine that
ho shall fill every clever young lad whC herirS
him with prejudices against Christianity;
which may last through life. And in advis
ing one’s parishioners, espec’ally in adminisi
toring reproof where needful, let the parish
priest, if hq would do' good, call into play all
his tact. With the host intentions, through
lack of skill in putting things, ho may dp
great mischief. Lot the,calomel he conceal
ed beneath the jelly. .Not that I counsel
sneakiness; that is worse than the moat in
discreet' honesty.
A Compromising Spirit. —Ths Louisville
Journal tells an anecdote of ah officer which
is wortii preserving. The gentleman is a
violent Republican, nnd both before and
since going into the army has opposed, with
all the zeal rind ability of which ho is pos
sessed, tlm Crittenden Compromise. At the
battle of Chiokam'augn, when our roiled
wing was falling hack in great disorder, and
the mass of the enemy pushing forward with
a shower of shell, grape; canister nnd mus-'
ketry, this gentleman' was in the midst of the’
deadly torrent, ahd who stutters somewhat in
his speech, turned to a fellow soldier and
said: “ 6-g-g-george,- if G-g-g-gOvernor Crit
tenden were ft i r-r-fiso up ‘ now f-T-f-from his
g-g-g-grave, and offer mo the C c-c-orittendsn
com-com-promise, by ■ ■' ~’ T l Would take it!”
SSpA tribe of dwarfs has he’op /bund in’
Africa, whose ears reach to the ground, and
are so wide that, when they lie One'
ear serves as a mattress, the other as a cov
ering! So saya Petherio,in'bfs new workmen
‘Central Africa,” giving as his authority
1 at) old negro who has boon a great travel-
, [CrAh,- Jemmy, -said a sympathizing
friend to A, man who was too late for the
train, ‘you did not run fast enough.’ •Tea,-
I did,/ said Jemmy, I ran fast 1 enough, hut
I did not start soon enough.’
Fast? Pzopr.E. —lf husband And wife are
fast, thei ! e is great danger in their rasa, ns in
that of/a fast team, that the coupling will
break,
y r
..If a man waits to consider a cJenr doty or
lingers to prepare for it, it U.either left un
done or done feebly.
Little drops of rain brighten the mcadW
owe, and little aoUof kindness brighten'th*
world.
Ho. 43