■ _ ':'' f ' ' [ .■ ; a VOL. 52. AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BT JOHN It. BRATTON. TERMS Subscription. —Two Dollars if paid within iH year; end Two Dollars and Fifty Ceuta, if not paid 'Within tho year. Thcao terms will be rigidly ad hered to in every instance. No subscription dis continued until all arrearages aro paid unless at tho Option of tho Editor. Advertisements —Accompanied by fhocASn, and hot exceeding one square, will bo inserted three times for s2.'otf, and twenty-five cents for each additional insertion. Those of a greater length in (proportion*- JoB-Phft{TiN<S-‘-Such'aB Hand-bills, Posting-bills Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &o. &o. f executed with Accuracy and nt tbo shortest notice. “ THE OLD FOLKS’ ROOM. Tho old man sat by tbo ohimnoy side; His face was wrinkled and wan, As ho loan'd both h’s bands on his stout oak cano As if ail his work wore donoi His coat was of good old fashiohed gray, The pockets were deep and wide, • Where his “specks” and his steel tobacco box Lio snugly side by side. The old.'man liked to stir tho firo, So near him tho tongs wore kept , Sometimes he mused as ho gazed at tho coals, Sometimes ho sat and slept. What saw bo in tho embers there? Ah 1 pictures of other years ; And now and then they wakonod smiles* But often started tears. His good wife sat on tho other side, In a high back flag scat chair f I sco 'noath the pile of her muslin cap, Tho sheen -of her silvery hair. There's a happy look on her aged face, As she busily knits for him, And Nellie takes up the sUchcs dropped,' For grandmother's eyes are dim. Their children come and read tho news," To pass tho timo each day; How it stirs the blood in tho old man’s heart,' To hear of tho w:rld away. Ip ’Xis a homely scone/ I told you so, But plcasatu it is to viewj At least 1 thought it so myself, And sketched it down for you. Bo kind unto tho old, my friend, They’re worn with this world’s strife, Though bravely omo porchapCo they fought Tho stern, fierce battlo of life. They taught our youthful foot to climb .Upward life’s rugged stoop; Then lotus gently load.them down To where tho wear.v J3l££D. THE OLH CLOCK; OR, RALPH VAttti’S WOOING, The sunset was piling its temples of* firo find amythst over the dark hills that seemed to touch the flaming wliipperwill, moaning its plaintive cadence un tile ruinous fence beyond the old mill, was answered by .the ripple of the stream in the glen below, and th(x whole landscape was wrapped in tho sweet, dreamlike repose of .a summer twi light. .Ralph Vane had stood waiting at the mos sy stile for two long hours—waiting and watching in vain. * She is coming at last—at.last I* ho miit ‘'tcred between his set teeth, as a slight rust )i:ling in the bushes struck his oar. rt# - No. it was but a robin darting homeward j,to its neat, half terrified at being out so Into | fe«and oneo more the deep, peaceful quiet brou gded above the silent meadows. !| *lt is too late/ ho said, as the village chimed nine, * Sho will not pome 0 now, and I have the ineffable satisfaction ot S knowing that lam a fool! She never loved. | me—sho never cared for me, else she would | have camu hcroTto tell mo good-bye. It may be the last time she will ever look upon my | face. Much she cares, the pretty, deceiving £ little coquette—yet I (uncled, blind blockhead | that I huy.o been, that she loved me/ J , He suspicious drop, of moisture .•from lils eye lushes as he spoke, and plunged rin the dense, fragrant woods as if ho would e lainhimself uway from human kin. • ! A -sr * -K- - ■X- * Such magnificent wild strawberries as I have found down in the pasture lot, mother. Only look!’ And Rachel Bensloy held uo her apron full of scarlet berries blushing through silver green leaves. „ y} Sho was a pretty, rosy-cheeked girl, with .chining black hair, and brown eyes that had the velvet softness of a gazelle’s—a rustic beauty, whoso sun bonnet was tied as coquet tishly under the chin as if it had been a i French chip that had cost forty dollars. ‘Put them, down, daughter/ said Mrs. Bonseley. * Widow Moore has just been here and what do you think she says V . 4 1 don't know/ * She says that Ralph Vane has enlisted and gone off to the wars. He left the village last night/ ‘Rachel sat down, the rosy bloom dying out of her cheeks and leaving a ghastly palor behind. ‘Mother/ she wailed;* 4 do you be lieve that it is true?’ 4 Pin afraid fio, daughter. Do not, fret—he Isn’t ‘worth it, to leave you in this sort of way —yop that he. was as good as engaged to 1— Oh, Rachel, I couldn’t have believed it!’ Rachel, laid aside her bonnet,\fiad began mechanically to pinch the green stoma from her strawberries, but she said no mole. From that moment sho neyer mentioned Ralph \ one's name; all the tears she shed were wept in secret. And Fanner Bonseley, leaning against the porch pillar drew a long breath of relief. 4 She don't take it very hard after all/ be muttered, 4 I’m. glad it’s all over, Ralph Vauo never would have made a good husband for.her." - * * * * * # * . Throe years passed away, and Capt. Vane was walking up a crowded city street absorb ed in his own meditations, when suddenly he atoppoi. # ‘ Now what was it that brought the wide old kitchen at Farmer Beasley’s so .suddenly to my mind just then V ho thought. ‘I could take-my oath I saw the old clock, juat aa it used to stand above the chintz-covered settee. And—hullo I' there it is !’ There it was—ticking monotonously away in the window of a dingy little second rate pawn-hroker’s establishment on.the corner where two narrow streets mot. Following tho first impulse Of tho moment, ho opened tho door and went in. * ‘ What is the price of that old-fashioned clock in the window?’ ho asked. ‘That clock?’ said tho Jowish-looking in dividual in attendance. ‘Well, you cun have that clock cheap, bein’ there’s somethin’ ails tho striking apparatus, and it was such a slmckloy old thing wo didn’t enro to have it overhauled. Two dollars for that clock is sayin’ pretty fair.’ ‘ X should think so.’ observed Onpt. Vane, '* as it probably, bust no more than that When npw. However, I’ll take it, for the sake of old times,’ he murmured to himself. ‘ Yes, sir ; I’ll do it up directly.’ ‘By tlie way, where did you'get it?’ ho asked, with an affection of carelessness which he by no means felt. Well, air, it was left hero by a respecta ble old female, about six weeks ago. I be lieve I’ve got her address here somewhere, for they’ve brought a good many little items hero oho timo and another. Oh, hero it is— Rebecca Bodslov, No. , Barket street.’ Ralph Vane laid down his two dollar bill and walked out of the store, with the deck under his arm. ‘ Why did I ask any question ?’ he mutter ed. ‘ What are they to me ? And yet it gives me a keen pang to think of Rachel’s mother being destitute and in want. When I heard of Farmer Boneley’s death I never fancied they would he left in indigent cir cumstances.’ llow strange the wooden clock looked on the eayved marble mantel of his elegant par lor at tile St. Ambrose Hotel—how singular its aolem ‘ tick, tick,’ blended with the silver chitim of bells and the rumble of omnibuses on the pavement below. Yet Captain Vane felt bis heart soften us he looked at tho time-- worn dial. . . ‘ I wonder what ails tho striking machin ery,’ ho thought, opening tho little door. • 1 used to have a genuine Yankee facility for tinkering—perhaps it has nut entirely deser ted mo yot,’ Ue, drew out the dusky weights—they wore wedged in by some stiff paper; lie examined it more closely. ‘ The very letter I wrote to Rachel Bonsloy three years ago—The letter I entrusted to her father's rare, with the seal unbroken still. A flood of light seemed to bicak in upon is throbbing brain. ‘•Jacob Bcnaleyl' ho ejaculated between s set teeth'} may Heaven forgive yen for iia deed of treachery, for it seems to me at I never can !* * * •» ‘ II«\V late is it, Rachel ?’ ‘ Six o’clock, mother. Are you better, now V ‘ Yes, but my head aches still/ ‘ I will come and bathe it fur you, mother, when 1 have finished this piece of work.’ * You are tired, dear—f am afraid you overwork yourself; II I could only help you —but uiy sight fails mo every day. Oh. my daughter - ! - what is toTbecome of you when I am gone V 1 '• * God only knows !' sighed Rachel, her fair head dropping over that endless basket of work. * Mother I dare not fancy what the future may bring forth.’ She arose »o ooei\ the door a* a gentle tap sounded on the tall officer in the uniform of a captain in-the Federal army stood before her astonished eyes. , 4 Rachel/ ‘Ralph VanfJ/ 4 Nay, I scarcely Wonder that you look coldly at mo, Rachel, but I have been true to you all these years. Hero is the letter I gave your father for you three ydars ago this very summer. When you-gave me no answer ei ther, by look or word. I fancied - you had been playing with my affections. Now I see how erroneously I huve judged you. Rachel, will you read the letter how? Will you give the answer I waited for, so long and va»uly, the night before I enlisted V She broke the seal with trembling hands, and glanced over the contents of the time yollowed note. 4 Oh! Ralph!’ she murmured, bursting into tears, ‘ can you over forgive mo for the hard thrtughts I have cherished toward yon?’ ‘ Then you will bo my wife, now, Rachel V 4 1 cannot toll you how gladly—how wil lingly I’ . 4 Will you give her to me, Mrs. Bensley V said the tall soldier, kneeling on one. knee beside the widow’s chair. 4 May God deal with you as you deal with my child, Ralph Vane!’ uttered Mrs. Bens ley, solemnly. Late into the glorious moonlight of the August night they sat and talked. Rachel learned that riches and honor had been show ered upon her betrothed husband from for tune’s liberal hand since he had left the lit tle New England village and 4 gone, soldier ing/ and lie in his turn listened to the sad story of Jacob Beasley's failure and death, and his widow’s poverty. And then he told them how the antique fingers of the little ohbfashioned clock had guided him back to the heart whoso constant love was to be his wife’s sunshine hencefor ward and forever. And the most treasured ornament in Mrs. Captain Vane’s exquisite 6omir>ir is the woo den clock, time stained and rudely carved.— Yet she would not exchange it for the costli est time piece of alabaster and gold that ever sparkled through Tiffany’s plate-glass win dows. Quiddites. —-A tea party without scandal is like a knife without a handle, \ Words without deeds is like husks without seeds. Features without grace are like a. clock without a face. A land without laws is like a oat without her claws. Life without cheer is like a collar without beer. A master without a cane is like a rider without a rein. - Marriage without moans is like a horse without' beans, . A man without a wife is like a fork with out u knife. A quarrel without a fight is like thunder without lightning. DTT" 4 Where do'you hail from?’ queried a Yankee of a traveller. 4 Where do you,rain from T* * Don’t rain at all/ said the astonished Jon athan. Neither do I bail, so mind yoqr own bus iness/ sgjy*An old Indian who had witnessed the effect of whiskey for many-yours, said that a barrel of whiskey contained one thousand tonga and fifty fights. Pretty correct Indian tljat. When I was a very little bov, X was, ex ceedingly partial to stories about wolves.— “ Now, mamma, a story I” was the coaxing request, as wo drew round the winter fire. “ A story ; well, let me see, what shall it be about ? What was it last night—devolves, was it not ? What shall 1 cell you about this time?” “ Wolves, mamiita !” was almost the invariable answer. Wolves and shipwrecks, shipwrecks and wolves, of these two subjects wo could never hear enough. I wonder how my dear mother ever collected a.sufficiency of facts about wolves, or if she now remem bers'the stories she then relate. I know I entertained a very wholesome dread of wolves for many years of my early life ; aud.a more intimate acquaintance with these creatures in after years has not .tended to. lessen my dislike to them. Stories about wolves may interest grown-up people as well as children. ; Thoy are, most undoubtedly, creatures of whom very many ,most'extraor dinary stories may bo told, and nothing that is told of them will astonish those who have had .much opportunity of observing their habits. In flndia no one concerns himself very much.about wolves. There is a reward for killing them, which varies in amount in dif ferent districts. .In the central I think, the reward five rupees* the reward for a tiger being one hundred rupees—it was only fifty, but has been recently raised. In the Allahabed district the reward for a wolf is three rupees,, for a tiger twenty five.— J There are very few tigers in this district.— | The wolves are tolerably numerous in some party of the Zillnh, but I do not hear of their | doing much serious mischief, 1 ' About Oliimar, the government reward for a wolf is, I think, for a male, five rupees and a half, for a female, six rupees* and; the cattle owners of the village in- which the creature is killed, generally give the shikario another rupee. The rajah of allow his woodmen to kill wolves, 1 leopards, hears and hyenas, but must not kill a tiger. The rajah reserves these beasts for his own shooting.— I remember in 1855, when railway works wore in, progress between Mirzupoor and Al lahabad, during the hot weather, when the natives sleep out of doors, many children wore .curried olf by wolves, especially about the village of Uckowria. I don't think any of these wolves wore destroyed at that time. They used to seize the children as they slept by their mother's sides,.and dash off with them into the hill where it was impossible hi follow them at night. Near this place I was once in camp, under the Lanitarian hill at Utsboojali, when a wolf seized a sheep which was lied by a stout cord to tent peg close to whore I was sitting; the wolf tore the peg up, and bolted off with the sheep, cord and peg, and got away before I could seize a gun. This was at dusk. During the lust two sea- I sons the wolves have destroyed very many people in the vicinity of the railway between Allahabad and Jobbulpoor, They do not seem to be so dangerous near Allahabad aa t h oy__ a r o—a bo u c-si x-f-y—m i les . north of Jubbulpoor, near Moorwurra, on the Deccan-ruud. 1 urn afraid to say how many children, women, and even men have been killed Within ten miles of this place during ; (he last twelve mouths. Mr. Oiphorts, the I resident engineer, who lives at Moorwurra, I tolls mo that ho has heard of upwards of I twenty-five’deaths from wolves alone. They go about singly or in’ pairs, not in packs.— Their mode of attack will bo best illustrated by one or two instances which have come under our immediate notice. In the month of September last some co-dies, men and women, Were at work breaking up stones, about three hundred yards from Mr. 01- phert's house. Word was brought to that gentleman that a wolf had just killed a man and partly eaten him. Upon' proceeding to the spot, it appeared that one of the men bad left his gang and retired to a slight hollow | in the ground about fifty yards from whore i the work was in progress. The wolf had probably been watching the people for some time, and on seeing this man leave the gang had stopped him, and siezed him by the throat. The man could not cry out, but ho must have struggled a good deal. At all events'the wolf killed him, and devoured the flesh of both thighs and the lower part of the sfoih'ach; .When the coolies became aware ol the wolf's proceeding they rushed up, pel ted him. with stoues, and shouted. -The Wolf showed his teeth, and continued .his horrid meal. When he had satisfied Ida hunger he cauterei}{off; ajid then, nut till then, did the stupid coolies run up to Cull the sahib, '{’he wolf had gone into some low scrub jungle,, which was beaten.at once; but ho ! slipped away without offering a chance of a shot al him. Shortly alterwards a well known coo lie woman was killed in tho immediate'vi oinitv. * * Eventually Mr. Olpherts has succeeded in killing one ut the wolves. He determined to glvp the brutes ho rest, and follows or search es for them whoneyer ho hua leisure. But they are wary iudeed, and the open pip ins, which they principally frequent, are of great' area. As soon as the wolves are alarmed they gallop off miles. At the village of Kundwarra a little girl was seized, only the oilier day, ‘close to the houses, and very eeri . onsly bitten on the throat and thighs. Sho was,, however, rescued before the wolf had time to destroy her. Poison does not seem to he effective. Indeed, the head men of the village say the wolves now will- not touch slieep or goats, hut live oh human beings.— Il you suggest traps, pitfalls, or other ex pedients, the villagers shrug their shoulders, and say they do not understand these con trivances, and what can they do? They make an offering, to Daveo, and beyond;do iug that, they arc helpless. .-This is not the case everywhere.,* In some districts the’peo plo are sharp enough at trapping. Mr, Olpherts Ims tried many. devices to gpt within shot, such as dressing himself u:< as n womn.il, and other well known stalking tricks, biit wo think-that the greatest chance is to go alone 'and opcr.ly. The wolves re gard two persons together as a warning to be off; they certainlydo nbi move out of one man's way. We noticed this particularly the other evening. We had been the whole day out, visiting villages-.where the wolves had done most mischief, returning home just uc sunset. As wo were‘passing through-a • bi: of scrub close to a village where an old woman had told us she often saw the wolves . wheu she was. picking wild berries, arid where n little herd girl had been killed a few days before, I caught the glimpse of an old wulpa. outlinein the bushes; out came the binoculars, and sure enough there they were, two wolves lying down in an open patch of the shrub. We went on a little way so as i to escape notice, and then dismounting from j the elephant, we walked towards the spot ) where we had seen the creatures, each of us i with a double rifle and about fifty .yards i •par.fc. I saw the wolyeabefore they saw me. i OUR COUNTRY- MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT RIGHT OR JVYUONO OUR COUNTRY." WOLVES IN BENGAL. A ST 0 11Y OF THEM, CARLISLE, PA„ THURSDAY, AUGUST 17,1865. Tho largo ono was sitting down ns a dil"- would do when gnawing a bone, facing the* breer.o ; the smaller wolf was about ten pa ces behind the larger one, in the same atti tude. They were in the direct track of tho cattle and goats going to and fro to tho pas tille grounds, and quite ready to seize any single person who might come unexpectedly upon them. Tho larger wolf saw my friend ; and ho was alone, tho beast crouched down flat, pressing its snout between its paws, and watching liim most carefully. The other wolf saw no ; and finding that, as if sat, f should probably notice it in time to avoid be ing caught, it quietly'got up and hid behind a hush. I crouched and crept along, con trary to mj usual habit when stalking, as I am rather }tout, and I find creeping does not conduce t) accuracy of aim. When the smaller wolf had hidden himself, ho drew his comrade's attention tomo. This wna onon-di for No. 2, who was already aware of my com panion's. prosecco, and ho was off with a bound—my rifle Kail X four, just,overlook his bach. Only one (volf bolted, but I- did not hoar the “ Umii/kand so concluded I missed lum. I iiad, however, an excellent opportu nity of watching .tho tactics of the villains, and 1 shall benefit by my experience. When alone the other day, Mr. Olpherts '.succeeded in getting a wolf to stall: him, which- is evidently tho bitter couiso to adopt. The wolf crypt forward and crouched , behind .a bash, eyeing, tho man most watchfully ; but, unfortunately, master wolf was at tho wrong end of the gnu, and a bullet through the shoulder put a atop to his ■ man Eatingfurcvor, I induced a wolf to do tho very same to me early in December last., I vvus riding on,a camel to camp, my man lie hiud hra, with a,light double ri'llo in his lap. , X caught sight uf a wolf in the long grass.— Xb-etooding not to see the animal, X quietly waited the camel toward some bushes and ■ slipped off, my man lying along on the cam el’s heel: so as to usc.aua observation. X got into a little hulluh, and tho wolf crept tow ards me, nose in air, I let it come to about ono hundred yards,gud thou,put up iny heud. It Stopped and sat down on its haunches ; a lucky shot between, the eyes stretched it at length, without a howl., Xts mate jumped up, and got thu:aoeond.bullet somewhere in the loins ; it fell, but got up again, and away into the Jungle'. When a shikarie or sharp,native finds that ho is an object of attention tp -one,or more wolves, if he is unarmed he generally takes oil puggrie, and waves it round his head m he lyould a club; this is sufficient- to intimi date tiie cowardly brutes. Too wolves whiel have been killing so many people are small guaut creatures, not muck heavier than a goijti English setter dug'; they uro all eyes, ours, ami teeth, and more crafty than -the sharpest fox in Eecoistersiiiro. They can hide anywhere, aud have the moat wonder ful power ut communicating their ideas to their folio w wolves. My sliickarie thinks wo aro shocking blockheads lor taking any trouble about- de stroying the wolves—ho utterly despises them ; and a$ to the loss of life they .cause* "by, like atruc lifUoo, so long as lie it* not the victim it concerns him not at all. •* Get -Ur-goat— “ aiiiT tie it up at night and watch it; or else put it cimvcu iently for a pitlall,.and lust pear the goat’o ear, and rub a little red pepper into the wound to make it cry out all night.” He does not know what'cruolty ia—never heard of such a thipg I j If a wolt kills phild that he cannot re move and cannot db'vour all alone, he will bury the remains, as a dog dues a bone. A woll was just ;it the entrance of a native hut nor long since j|fc night. The man of the house was sleeping.'outsido, the wife within the door. He asked the woman to pass over to them their-littiejchild. The woman, half asleep, hold out thochild, which was taken from her hand—noqhy the father, but by the wolf. The child gtivo no cry until it was some little distanceifom the house. It was carried off, poor little tiling, in spite of the shouts of its awakeijed: parents. The power of thelwolf’s jaw and cutting teeth must bo very|grcat, the pieces which t seems to snap dufot- the body on which it ecds are so large ahd cut so cleanly. It two wclvos setae an unfortunate native, die iirst grip is always on the throat, spring ing.lrom beliind. This prevents any shoot ing. The f-Oi'ond wolf at once' attacks the stomach, at which he tears'and rends.in sue! a way as soon to destroy all chance of escape fur the wretched victim. Each large, open plainhereabouts is inhab ited by a*ynir of wolves, who. certainly do m re misihief than all the'tigers, and aro in- finitely more troublesome to destroy. I hope, however',' that perseverance may at last bo rewarded with success such as will consider- ably letton the number of those odious brutes* EmiTu, ming a Lite Man.—A miraculous escape from the horrors of actually being buried alive has just taken place in-New Or leans. A person by tlie name of Martin was supposed to have died from disenso*bf the heart, and to every outward appearance was dead. The attending physician had given his certificate of .burial',' certifying to the cause of death, and the supposed corpse was prepared shrouded-- in .the habiliments of death and encoffined, Near ahd dear ones had shed tears over the loss of one whom they supposed dead, oud whose body they had carefully prepared for- the - silent pre cincts of the tomb, when the fortunate thought suggested itself that the body should be em balmed. The necessary ate ns wove taken, the coffin circfnlly closed up, and- the body sent to the embalming establishment,& Here tiie process of embalming was in due time entered upon. It appears that in the process wnieh preserves the body from immediate de composition, the preserving quality is infus ed into the main artery of the arm. The in cision with a lancet is in the same manner as in the case of blood-letting. Theembalm er had commenced his Work by making the necessary 1 incision, and to his surprise he dis covered Ijlood feebly oozing from the vein.— He knew there must be life whore blood would thiw, and desisted from bis work of embalming. In a few minutes more there was a slight motion of his body, "and present lv the man in the coffin made an effort to raise l himself - and, with assistance, did rise up.and apeak* Gentle restorative* wore ad ministered, an<l he desire 1 to. know how it ,nas that he found himself in a coffin clothed with a shroud. llh friends, to their utter joy, wore advised of what had taken place, and ho Was sent to the hospital instead of the grave, where ho is in a fair way of recover ing. Thin is, indeed, n miraculous escape from the clutches of death. ID” Two centuries ago, says an exchange, not one in,a hundred wore stockings. Fifty years ago nut one boy in a thousand was al lowed to run at large at night. Fifty years ago not one girl in a thousand made a wait ing 1 maid of her mother. Wonderful improve ments in this wonderful a^o. A Girl Thai Would Be Married and Why. Mr. Watts had by industry aud economy accumulated a largo property. Ho was a raan of rather superior mind, and acquire ments, but unfortunately became addicted to habits of intemperance. Naturally fond of company, and possessing superior conversa tional powers, bis company was much sought and bo became eventually a sot. His wife vran a feeble woman, without much decision of character: but an only child was the re verse, illustrating ono of thoso singular laws of nature, that the females oftenost take after the father in character and personal:peculi arities, and the mules after the mother, Mary was well aware of the consequences that would inevitably follow her father's course, and had used every exertion of per suasion and reason iri her power to induce him to alter his habits, but without-avail.—• His resolutions and promises could not with stand temptation, and ho pursued his own downward course, till the pour girl despaired of reform, and groivously realised what the end must result in. John Dunn a young man from the ■Last. possessed of a good education, as all our Now England boys arc, and their indo mitable industry*and perseverance, and who was working on tho farm of a neighbor by i 10 mouth. ' ° J Mary, on going on some errand to tho next 'bouse. met him on the road with the usual salutation—‘Good morning, Mr. Dunn/ Good morning, Miss Watts. How is your health V J . ‘ W>ll, I thank yon, but to tell the tn sick at heart.” * Pray, what ia tho trouble V said John.— ‘ What can aiFect you,- a cheerful, lively girl like yon. possessing everything that can make you happy V _ * On tho contrary to make mo miserable. I am almost weary* of life, it is a subject i cannot explain to you ; and yet I have aometimes thought I might/ 1 Anything that I can do for you, Miss Watts, you may freely command/ ‘ Ibut is promising more than you would be willing to perform. But to break tho ico at once, do you want a wife V ‘A wife! Well, I don't know. Do you want a husband ?’ 1 Indeed I do, the worst way. } don't know nut you may think mo bold and deficient in tbit maidenly modesty becoming a woman, but if yoil knew mv situation and the affile tions nnd6r which I suficr, I think it would be some excuse for my course/ ‘Have yon thought of the Consequences ?' said John; ‘my situation—l am poor—you are rich—[ am a stranger--and— -4 Inddcd I have, I am almost crazy; lot nip explain : You and every one else know the unfortunate situation of my father. His ha bits are fix2d beyond amendment, and his property is wasting like the dews before the sun. A. lot of havpies are drinking his very heart s -blood, and ruin and misery aro star- | n n in iho face. Wo nro almost it is true; but I observed you closely. Your habits, your industry nnd the care and pr denoo with which you have mamurod ’ . « your _Qmploycr-8-buisino3Si hns always intorested me/ ‘ Anil yet, my dear young lailv, whet can you know of mo tu warruiit in taking such an in/poi'lant step.' ‘ It is enough for mo that X am satisfied tyijlj yuur character and habits—your person and manners. lam a woman nnil have eyes. Wq are about the same age ; so, if you know mo and like mo well enough to take me, there is my hand I’ ‘And, my dear Mary, there’s mine, with all my heart in it. Now, when do you desire it to bo settled 1’ ‘Now, this minute; give me your arm, and we will go to ’Squire Benton’s and have the bargain finished at once. I don’t want to enter our house of distress again until I have one on whom I can rely, to control and direct the affairs'of my disconsolate homo, and to support mo in my determination to turn over a new leaf in our domestic nffairk.’ ‘ Rut not in this old hat, and in my shirt sleeves, Mary ?’ ‘Yes—and I in my old sun bonnet and dirty apron. If you are content Idt it be done at once. I hope vein will , think lam not so hard pushed as that comes lo ; hut I want a master; lam willing tu lo mistress. I will then take you homo and introduce you as my own dear husband—signed, sealed and deliv ered,’ ‘ So bo It—permit mo to s.ly that T have al ways admired you from the first minute f saw -you, for your beauty and energy, and indus try and amiable deportment/ ‘Now, John, if that is sincere, this is the happiest moment of my life* and I trust our union will be long and happy* lam the on ly one my father listeria to: but, alas! his resolutions are like ropes of ?and. I can ma nage him on all other subjects ; you must toko charge of his business and have sole control; there will bo no difficulty— lam confident of the result/ They were married and a more happy match never was consummated. Everything prospered; houses and barns.were repaired, fences and gates wore regulated, andsthe ex tensive fields smiled and flourished like an Eden. The unfortunate father iu u few years sunk’into a drunkard’s grave. Marv and John raised a large family, and they still live respected and wealthy—all'from an energetic girl's resolution, forethought and courage. Would'nt Mvmr a Mechanic.— A young man commenced visiting a young woman, and appeared to bo well please!. One even ing ho culled .when it was quite late, which led the girl, to enquire where he had been. ‘ I had to work to-night/ replied the young man. * Do you work for a living ?' enquired the astonished girl. * Certainly ; I am a mechanic/ ho replied. * My brother doesn’t work hard, and I dis like a mechanic/ and she turned up her pret ty nose. This was the last time the mechanic visit ed the young lady. Now ho. is a wealthy man, and has one of the best ofwmmm for a wife. The young lady who disliked the name of mechanic is now the wife of a miserable fool—a regular vagrant about grogshops— and she, poor miserable girl, is obliged to support herself and her children* Ye who name of mechanic, whose br alters do nothing but loaf and dro>s. bo waio how you distrust men who work for a living. Far better discard the well fed pau per, with all Ills rings and brazen fucedness and pomposity, and take to your affections tilo callous-handed, industrious, intelligent mechanic. Thousands have bitterly repeat ed the folly, who have turned their backs to honest industry. A few years of hitter expe rienos taught.them a serious lesson. In this country no man or woman should ho reanect ed,' in our way of thinking, who would hot work mentally or phisically, and who curl their lips with soorn when introduced to hard-working men. HOW JACK BECAME A DEMOCRAT. Tbo most bigoted and unreasonable party man I over mot with was Jack. Jack was a rod-hot Abolitionist, and his chief pleasure scorned to bo in making the fact as notorious as possible.llis friends and associates, with ono. consent, pronounced Jack a bore and a nuisance to tho lust degree. One day Jack met at tho house of a friend, a young lady of great personal beauty and accomplishments. Attraotodby her loveli ness and captivated by her .IRelligenco, he beedrtio assiduous in his attentions, forgot for a while his * principles/ and without inquir ing what might bo tho political preference of his lady love, imprudently proposed, was ac cepted, and they were married, Tho wedding was over, the guests had de parted, and the happy pair had retired to their chamber, and were snugly ensconced I in bed*, -when - Jack, in tho cuujho of a quiet 1 conversation with his wife, unwittingly allu (led to his favorite subject, b\' casually speak ing of himself as a .Republican, \/hatI > exclaimed - his wife, turning sharply and suddenly toward him, ‘ are you a Republican V * cs/ replied Jack, *lam a regular out and out, double dyed and twisted in tho wool. 1 ‘ Just double and twist yourself out of this bod, then/ interrupted *his wife; ‘ I’m a Democrat, X am ; I will never sloop with a man professing the doctrines you 110,’ Jack was struck speechless with amaze ment. lliat the wife of his bosom should prove a /raitor was terrible; she must be jesting. lie remonstrated in vain ; tried per suasion ; 'twas no go. She was in earnest, and tho only alternative left him was a prompt renunciation of hia heresy or a sepa rate bed in another room Jac!; did not hesitate. To renounce the established doctrines of his party, to surren der those glorious principles which had grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength, to the whim and caprice of a wo man, was ridiculous and absurd ; and throw ing himself from the bed, lie quit the apart ment. In the morning alio met him as if nothing had happened ; but whenever Jack ventured to allude to the night previous, there was a huightcr-imp in her eye which bespoke her power and extinguished hope. A second night ho repaired to his lonely couch, and a second time called on his pride to support him in the struggle, which he now found was getting desperate. The second day was a repetition nf the first. No allusion was made to the subject on ei ther side. There was a quiet happiness and cheerfulness about his wile that puzzled Jack sorely, and he felt that all idea of forcing her to surrender must bo abandoned. The third night he was alone. His reflec tions were yet more serious than the pievi ous nights ; what they wore, of course, was onlv known to himsell but they sCcmcd to re sult in something decided; for at aht>ut mid night three distinct raps wore at his wife’s dour. No answer. The signal was repeated in a louder tone ; still all was silent. A third time the__djjoc__waa-shouk— tacks. *\Vho’s there V cried the voice of his wife, us if aroused from a deep sleep. Ulio answer was returned quickly, and with emphasis : * A little the best Democrat you ever did see.' IIS?* The Steamer Florida, on which Mudd, Arnold, O’Langhlin and Spangler Were car ried to'the Dry Tortugas, off the coast of Florida, arrived in New York on Tuesday.— She left the TdVtugas on the 20th* having .previously landed lu-r prisoners. Mndd, | O’Laughlin and Arnold, as will bo recollect ed, were sentenced to imprisonment for life and Spangler for six years. The prisoners were not aware until alter starting on their journey that their destination had been changed from the Albany Penitentiary to this arid spot off the southern coast of Flor ida, and on being informed of if were un pleasantly affected : but alter their arrival, on finding that the Island, which is said to bo about thirteen acres in extent, enjoys a fine sea breeze and is very healthy, was hot so bad a place as they had supposed, they wore agreeably disappointed, and con gratulated themselves on the change. They reached (heir place of imprisonment on the 25ih of Jnlv, and wore immediately after put to appropriate service—Mndd being placed in thC position of an assistant surgeon, Ar nold that of a clerk, Spangler set to work at his trade of a carpenter and O’Daughlin nut to,an employment in which he can Co useful. There are about live hundred and fifty pris oners now confined on the Dry Tortugas. Wealth.—He is a srcafc simpleton who imagines that the chief power of wealth is to supply wants. In ninory nino cases out of a hundred it creates more'wants than it sup plies. Keen are the pangs of hunger and sad is the spirit of him who is sinking into an early grave for want ol the common nec essaries of life; hut nob loss keen aro the mortifications and cares of him, who. nursed in case and luxury, is. thrown, by circum stances. into dark perplexities, which his mental indolence cannot unravel, and who, is reduced, oven to an apprehension of the wan r of th.ise luxuries, which were to him mure than life. Fly Poison—A Caution.— There arc still rrinny placed where the old-fiashioned fly poi son is used. Druggists sell it as ‘ Cobalt’ an incorrect name, and one which does not indi cate the true character of the article, ground motalio arsenic. This when mixed with sweetened water is sure death to flies and equally fatal to people. From the many ca ses ot poisoning of children resulting from the use of this fly-poison,-wo advise to dis card it altogether and endure the annoyance of flies rather than risk the poisoning o. children. Darkening the rooms is the best way of getting rid of flies; keep them out with nullinct frames. Bather Cool.— An, incident occurred on one of the English railroads recently, and several persons were killed.. A ymmgTUoble man was seen running about in search of hi valet, whom ho feared was among the vie thus. Presently .orfo of the gourds came uj and said to him : *My lord, we have found your servant, but he is cut in two.’ ‘Then/ said the rilled fop. with a regular Dundreary drawl, 1 he gwood enough to see in what hall he has got the key oi my carpet-bag.’ One hundred thousand o dared trnopf are st.ll in the service of the Government.— The cofet of keeping them is two million dol lara per week, or more than one hundrer million dollars a year. They are of no usr at all, and are only kept in service to please the radical Abolitionists. But. the white people must pay for’U. fiSF* Subscribe for the Volunteer. Wlml Young People Should Know. llic: best inheritance which parents can give their children in the ability to help ami take care of themselves. This is better than a hundred thousand dollars apiece. In any trouble or difficulty, they have two excellent servants in the shape of two hands. Those who can do nothing, and have to bo waited upon, are nelplesa and easily disheartened in the misfortunes of life. Those who are ac tive and hardy meet troubles with a eheer lul lace, and easily surmount them. Let ymmg people, therefore, learn to-do as many things us possible. Every boy should know bow, sooner or Inter— 1. Io dross himself, black his own boots,- cut bis brother s hair, wind a watch, sow on a button, make a bed, and keep the clothes in order. , -*- 0 harness a horse, grease a wagon, and" harness a team. j' ea r° nn d wait on a (able. 4. To milk the cows, shear the sheep, and dress a veal of mutton. 5. To reckon money and keep accounts cor ree-tly, nnd according to good book-keeping 0. To write a neat and appropriate, brief ly expressed business letter, in a good hand. Inlet and susonbo it properly, and write cou tracts. ‘ 7. lo plough, sow grain and grass, drive a mowing machine, build a neat stack and pitch Imy. 1 S. To put tip a package, build a fire, mend broken tools, whitewash a wall and regulate a clock, ° Every girl should know how— 1. To sow and knit. 2. To mend do, I dice neatly, 3. To nmko beds. 4. To dress her own hair. 5. lo wash the dishes and sweep the car pets. * / 0. To make good.bread and perform all plain cooking. 7. I'o keep her rooms, drawers, and clos ets in order. 8. To work a sewing machine. ?\ n , raft k° good butter aud cheese. , make a dross and children’s cloth ing. Jl. lo keep accounts and calculate inter est. 12. To write, fold, and superscribe letters properly. 13. lo nurse the sick efficiently, and not faint at the eight of a drop of blood, 14. To bo ready to render efficient aid and coni fort to those in and in an unos tentatious way. 15. lo receive mid entertain visitors, in the absence or sickness of her mother. A young lady who can do all those things well, and who is always ready to render aid to the afflicted, and mitigate the perplexities ot those around her, will bring more comfort to others and happiness to herself, and bo more esteemed, than if she only know how to dance, simper, sing, aud play on the pi ano. —Home Monthly. * B©"' A gentleman from Arkansas gives the following dialogue, which ho heard at a tav ern in that State: ‘‘Hallo, boy i’ 4 Hallo yourself I' 1 Can’ f get breakfast hero !* 4 1 should rather think you couldn't*’ 4 Why not T ‘Knzo mnsaa away—misses drunk—do ba by got do colic, and I dont care a damn for nobody.', - The traveller was speechless. Bon IVIot. —A fashionable dandy, being seated, some days ago at Niblo’a dinner ta ble, between two merchant’s from the South, observed in a whisper, to his friend • See how prettily I am fixed between two tailors !' which, on being overheard by one of the gen tleman, he retorted, 4 Yes, air, wo are tailors, and as we aro only beginners wo oannot af ford to keep more thau one goose between IW * JCr* Die Atlanta Intelligencer Bays that a friend relates to the editor this incident: “ Coming, to Atlanta, on Monday last, I saw an old (reed woman lying on the side of the read, Jem!, and two younger ones standing by her remains. T asked what had been the matter with her. The reply from one of the girls was.' •• She perish to def, sir.; hut she freed , dough.” As Of,D B icrrEtoit’s Remarks upon ‘Wo men.—lf yon don’t marry them they diapiso yon. If you do they abuse you. If yoii don’t let them have their own wav, they hate yon. If yon do they rein von. If they see a better looking follow than yourself, and take a fancy to him, why, ton to one. they run away from you. Get married 1 Not if I know. evidence of the fertility of the soil in Chatta hoochio, Ga., it is stated that a crow-bar which had boon exposed to the sou and dew tor a few hours, was found covered with a crop of excellent ten-penny nails of native growth. C 7“ In nn Abolition 4th of duly procession it Salem, Mass., wore a white girl and a n’o ;ro man seated side by side in a carriage., la beled—“ The Past, Present and lutuie." , (lope that “ future” will stay in Massachu :otts awhile yet. , IC7" A ferryman, whilst playing ovor a river which was only slightly agitated, was asked by a timid lady in hio boat, whether any persons were ever lost in -that river. Oh no/ said he, * we always find *eni aglu the nest day/ , An Irishman having a looking-glass in one hand, shut his eyes and placed it be fore his face. Another asked him why ho did so. 1 Upon me sow!/ said Paddy, 4 it’s to see >w I,look when I’m &slapo, to be sure/ O*A schoolboy haying good-naturedly helped another in a difficult ciphering lesson, was angrily questioned by the domino, * Why lid you work his lesson 7’ 4 To lessen his vork/ replied the youngster. , K7* The returns of the election in Tonn aef'see are but partial. The Nashville dis ■rict has been carried by the Democrats.— Two or three ot the other districts are thought to have gone for the Administration. o Zs* 1 Fa/ paid a youngster, 4 what is puno uation V 4 lt is thb art of putting stops, my thild/ ‘Then I'wish you would go down nto the cellar and punctuate the eider bar* d, as the cider is running all over tho floor. 1 * iCr It is the ordinary way of tho worlti 3ep folly at tho holm, and wit under hdtofc,' NO. 9.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers