0 ' miil r 41 V t iIIIVAI mr IA ;.P' ‘,..? J 4 SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXX, NUMBER 52.1 ;PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING Office in Carpet Hall. North-west corner of :Front and Locust streets. - Terms of Subscription. mop. Copy perannum.i f ;midi n advances •• sf not paid within three szaosithsfromeommeneemeniofthe year, 200 Clentxtes a copy. 'Nos übserspsion received for a less time than six nnonths; and no paper will be di.continued until all crrearugesare paid,unlessat the optionof the pub- Asher. 113*Moisey nay be •ernittedb ysnail a bepublish es' s risk. , Bates of Advertising. i squat, [6iines)one week. 00 39 , three weeks. 73 each +ultsequenainsertion, 10 [l2 Inesjone week. 50 three weeks, t 00 t. each 4 uh.iequentinsertion. 23 Largertdvertisernent,in proportion . liberal liseountwillbe mode to qunrierly,hair rurly ortearlyolvertisers,who are strictl)confined o their business. DR. HOFFER, DENTIST. --OFFICE, Front Street 4th door from Locust. over Saylor & McDonald's Hook More 'Columbia, Pa. MrEntranoe, same 115 Jolley's Pho tograph Gallery. [August 21, 18.58. THOMAS WELSH . , TWICE OF THE PEACE, Colombia, Pa. t • OFFICE. in Wbippere New Building, below Black's Hotel, Front street. e P u r r otupt attention given to all business entrusted t 0 is November 28, 1857. H. M. NORTH, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW. Columbia. Pa. .Collectious,t.romptly made n Loncoste rand York 3ounties. Columbia, May 4,1850. J. W. FISHER, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, C"c011m.333:13.1..n,, Per. Columban l Septernber ti, I.4sU•if _.___ S. Atlee Bocklug, D. D. S. PRACTICES the Operntive, Surgical and Meehan Mut Departments of Dentistry: Orrice Locust street. between he Franklin Howe quid Po.t Office. Columbia, Pa May 7 1N59. GUSTAVUS H GIIIAN, _ ;Professor of Ancient and Modern Languages MADAME FIEGMAN, Teacher of Vocal and Instrumental Music- Walnut gut rt .ti ow, Irma ,-oath at4c. Columba', ?tiny 12, Itz4lo 'r "OILTO PI LI,S.--Ext met =of Tomatoes; a cathartic and 'Tonic. For ,3018 nt J S up:L.Limrs. CO'S Golden Mortar Drug Store. Dee 3 nig - Info„s..--tho Doz. Brooms, at Wholesale jj 11. PrA Dec hS7 Lneu-t ut rect. iNE'S Compound of Syrup of Tar, Wild Cherry and Hourhountl, fur the cure of Cough.. Wllooplllg COUgh,, 1 , 1 . 01 1 / I .&e. NW Side (It AIeCORKLN & DHI.LETT'S Family 51ediciue Store, Odd Fellows' Hall slober al, patent Steam Wash Rollers. rp well known Boiler,. ore kept con.inntly on J. lined aat UI ItV PVA II Lora4a ft rent. oppooke the Franklin House Columbia, July 18.1857. i lilts for sale by the bushel or larger quan- Vitily by B. F. A 1.1.01.13. Columbia Dec 25. 1959. CII ton 1 Bain. - 111.1 ST in more. a fresh lot of Brehirg & •Proufield'e 1) celebrated Vegeta'ne Cattle Powder. aid for sale by R- WILLIAMS, Front street, Calwn'iia Sept. 17, ISI9 Harrison's Co umbian Ink 47111C1S i• n .uperior urtiele. perinanentle black. I 1 .nal tioi vorro leg Ihr peu, s euu be bud in am tat tie*. 1 , ..•9111) Nlediei•te Stare, and blacker el 1. 01.1 gli4ii.ll Mot cco.mi.ix.J.tuo 9. I..sip ~'~~~~ AtEts.wiNsww . :3 S. cuithur Syrup, which will grentli. the primes, of teething by re. during iaf Auumun alloy Mir plllll. •pa•modic iaeitoe, ke., in very abort lime. Fur eel.. by IL irILLIAMS. :A/v.17.1-59. Prom wee% Columbia. ItERRING & CO'S Russia Salve! Thisci .remely popular remedy Mr the cure DICK/MOO 411111C1114 IN 110 W for -ale by K. WILLIA3IS. Front at., Columbia. cept .24.1.59 CI?IEUN PUMPS. niliF, kuliscrther iarge stork of Chitern Pump• 1 and Hum, to which hr unlit. thus attention of the public. Ile is prepared to put them up for use in whauntial uud eatduritig manner. PPA I.ncich December 12.1857 Just Received and For sate, 2An To.. Ground Plu•orr; 50 Loblt Extra Faintly U 0 V Flour; 115 LLIe. No I Lard Oil of bca quality; Nal bus. Ground Alum Solt, by B.F. A PPOLD, No t and 2 Canal Hain. March 46,'59 CIRABAN, or, Bond's Boston Crackers, for Dyamptica, mid Arrow Hoot Crucloq, (or and rhilthrii—new article* in Columbia, at lie Family Medicine Store. Auntie. Itt:io. NEW CROP SEEDLESS RAISINS. TIE boat for Pies, Pudding, ittc —n .fresh minty at II SUYDAM'S Grocery Store, Corner Frontanti Union atm Nov. 10. litZD. Seedless Raisins! A L O T of very choice zerdie-s receivel- S. EItERLEIN'S Nov. 19, '.59. Grocery Store. No. 71, Locust st. SHAKER CORN JUST receiwed, u firat rate lot of Stinker Corn U. SLIT' PAM'S Grocery Store, corner Front and Union rt. Nov. 20,1859. SPALDING'S PREPARED CLUE.—The want of tin tintele is felt in every family. and now IL can be supplied; for mending furniture, china. tvare,wriamental work, toy, ke.. there is Hulking superior. We have found at useful in repairing many &metes which have beers useless for months. You Jan thin it at Ma 161.0a11A FMTIXIi{DICINI: STOR R. A - FIRST-RATH article of Dried Beef, and of Ilaut, can be bought at I.II.IERLEII"S Grocery Store, No. ?1 Locust ctreet March 10,1060, rjaklCß TEAS, Black and Green, of differ ent varieties. A fresh Int just received at .EBERLEIN'S Grocery Store. March 10,1860. No. 71 Locust street. THE FITS OF SIR JOHN JUN.KUN, the au thorized adman. ll' rCliutock, Pace. Et. U. toottillk au the Boundary of 4notter World.— Priee,lll4s Memoirs of Carvoaao. trice. 40 cents. ,ELIAS BABEL 1 CO., PP,PaAte t 'Awn 0214 LYON'S PURE C iItANDE4 very superio r and gamine aruele for medlemul pur- J. S. DELLETT & CO , Agent' , for Columbia. "mid. Feb.11.`613 VOIL OIL BEADVIARTERS.—Beware of spa rim:is Cool 0.1 Owing to the liege increase In the consumption orCool Oil. the isinrliet in full of bo gas oil. The precincts ortele can allots., be had et DEII.I.CT r t (70 , 3 Golden Noose Drug Store. Feb. 11.410 FOR MIKING SOAP. A super'sl artiste of -a• Soda Ashen* bond and fur sale by R. WILLIAMS. Yro At street 91are12,41 1980 grigtitino. From Dickers , Household Words My Man—A Sum. $1 50 DT Q. A. SALA I will take a man, as Lawrence Sterne took a solitary captive in his cell. I desire not to view, however, like the writer of Tristram Shandy, the iron entering into his soul. I have nothing to do with hie thoughts, his motives, his feelings, his sympathies. I will take a man and give him three score and ten years to live and breathe, and act in—a fair mean, I think. Ho shall be ro bust, laborious, sober, steady, economical of time, fond, if you will, of repeating the fallacious apothegm, "Time flies," and ever anxious to cut the wings of Time by the scissors of Industry. Providence has given my man, you will not deny, a rope or cable of life composed of three hundred and sixty-five times twenty four hours, forming alternate days and nights fur seventy years. Give me the twenty-four hours to regulate the daily por tion of my man by, and let us see how many of those hours necessity, habit, and the customs of the state of society he is born, and lives, and dies in, will allow him to turn to useful and profitable . account. My man must sleep. Ile shall not be chuckle-headed, dander-headed, nigh teepee armoured. Ile shall have no occasion, as n sluggard, to consider the ways of the ant. "Let the galled jade wince," my man's withers are unwrung when Dr. Watts hears the sluggard complain and express his wish to slumber again. Yet my man shall not observe the ration of sleep fixed, I believe, by George the Third, our gracious king: "Six hours fox a man, seven fur a woman, and eight for a fool." Ile shall be a foul, in one sense at least, and sleep eight hours per noctem—a reasonable, decent, honest, hygienic slumber season. This sum of sleep will amount, in the course of a man's life, to 24 years, to be deducted from the seventy. For twenty-four mortal years shall my man lie between' the sheets, talking to men he never saw, sitting down to dinners ho is never to eat, remembering minutely things he never knew, reconciling impos sibilities through that system of dream philosophy of which only the dream-master has the key; listening oft-times to ravish ing strains of music, of which the remem brance as they never were, will come upon him even when ho is awake, and amid the most ordinary occurrences of life—strains so sweet, so mysterious, so unearthly, so silent, yet so sentiently distinct, that they must be, I think, the tunes the angels play in Maven upon the golden harps. Four and-twenty years shall my man doze away in "Bedfordshire." My man being sober, does not, necessari ly, go to bed nightly in his boots, with a damp umbrella under his arm, his hat on his head and his waterproof paletot on his back; nor, being cleanly, dues he rise in the morning without washing, shaving, shower-bathing, and ultimately dressing himself in docent attire. I will sink the existence of such things as flesh-brushes, bear's-grease, bandoline, whisker pomatum, musk, patchouli and bergamot. My man shall neither be a fop nor a sloven. He shall not spend unnecessary matutinal minutes in cultivating a moustache, in imparting an, extra curl to a whisker, or cultivating an imperial. He shall not cut himself in shav ing, and lose clock time in searching for an old hat; neither shall ho wear tight boots and consume unnecessary half hour, in pulling them on; nor yet shall he have corns to cut, nor stays to lace. He shall not even be delayed in his daily toilet by the lack of shirt or wrist buttons: for I will give him a wife, and an accomplished wife—who shall be everything ho desires, and attend to his mother of pearl wants without even being asked. Yet my man, though a model of cleanliness, neat-handed ness and simplicity, cannot get up and go to bed, and dross and undress himself, in less than half an hour per day. Ergo, deduct front seventy year., eighteen months, or one year and a half. This man of mine must live. Hence, it is essential that he should exercise, at certain given periods in each day, his manducatory organs: in other words, that he should eat. Ile is not to be a glutton, or even a gour mand wandering furtively all day over town in quest of traffics, or rising with the lark to intercept fish-trains laden with Colchester oyster. Appetites for Strasburg pies of goose liver, fur elaborate plaids plats, fur the seductive Rhine wines that sparkle, and, while they sparkle, overcome, I do not allow him. He is not to have four courses daily. Ile shall dispense with entrees, entremets shall be unknown to him. He shall not sit for so lona over his dinner, and over the vinous beverages that follow it, that the green wax tapers multiply themselves un warrantably by two, and dance in their sock-' ots indecorously. lle shall be a plain man, enjoying his plain roast and boiled, his sim ple steak, or unsophisticated chop, with an unimpaired digestwn, powers of mastication not to be ealled in question, and a frame of mind prompting him to eat only when he is hungry ; eat in order that he may live; and not to live ;le Order that he may eat.— Yet such a monument of abstemiousness must consume, if he took that bellyful of victuals essential to equable health and strength, at least two boom a day. Ile may "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, P or may not use knives and forks, damask napkins, bubble bubble finger glasses ; he may or may not call the various meals he takes for the sustenation of his body, break fast, dinner, lunch, snack, tiffin, tea, supper, en cas de nuit, or what Dot ; but to the com plexion of this two hours' eating daily, he must come. Turtle and venison, or "pota toes and point," Alderman Gobb!e, or Pat the laborer, my man eats two hours per diem. There you have six years more, by which to thin the three-score and ten ITZI2 More years to take : more minute strokes to efface from the dial of the watch of life. Lave ! Ah Me ! when you and I and all of us can remember how many entire days and weeks and months we have wasted over this delusion, how callous and unsympathising must seem a minute calculation of the space love mulcts a man's life of. A summer's day over a pink ribbon ; hours of anguish over a crossed tin a love letter; days of per plexity as to whether that which you said last night would be taken in good part, or indeed, as to whether you said it at all; are those to be taken fir nought? They shall count for nothing on my man's chronometer. He sail not waste in despair, or die because a woman's fair. He shall just catch love ne one might catch tho typhus fever, and be "down" with that fever for the usual time, then grow convalescent and "get over it," and forget that he ever was ill. A month for that. Yet my man, without being in• fiammatory, is mortal. Besides his first hot love-fever, it is but natural to mortality that ho should feel, at certain periods during the seventy years he runs his race in, the power of love again;—not hot, strong, fero cious, rival hating hearts-and darts love, but love, the soft, the tender, the prolegomena of domestic joys—of singing tea-kettles, and cats purring by the kitchen fire; not the ' love fur black eyes and ruby lips and raven hair, but the love that makes us listen for a voice that takes us four hundred miles to hear a word—to dwell upon a look—to ' press a hand that never can be ours. Such love—if my man feels as most of us do—will take him at least one hour a day. Add to that, the, month for the first raging love ty phus, and you have three years more to take from seventy. I hope I have not exaggerated this aver age—this common mean—not denying as I do that there be some stony-hearted men in the world, some impervious cynics, who set their faces against love as they would against Popery. It must be remembered, too, in support of my hour a day that all lovers are intolerable prattlers, and the main part of the daily hour of love would be con sumed in purposeless—that unknown tongue, which only the professor of Fonetics, called Cupid, can expound. Few men are so "accursed by fate," so uttetly desolate, as not to possess some friends or acquaintances. A man may have associates with whom ho may cultivate the choicest flowers of the heaven-sent plant, friendship; or be may simply bare pot companions, club friends, or business ac quaintances. Still ha !must know somebody, and, being by nature a talking animal, must have something to say when he meets his fellow men. Ido not wish to exempt my man from the common rule. Ile shall be gregarious, like his fellows. Ire shall bo no misanthrope—neither a ceaseless chat terer, nor a stock-fish of taciturnity. He shall +elk in season, saying only good and sensible things—not holding inert by the button, unnecessarily, in the open street ; not telling them futile stories of the Penin solar war; hazarding imbecile conjectures about the weather, the ministry, or the state of Europe; nor detailing his grievances, his ailments, or the tribulations of his family, out of proper time and place. Yet I will defy him to consume less than one hour per diem in talking. This gives me three years more todeduct from the seventy of my man's life. I have already conceded my man to be a pattern of sobriety, regularity, and morali ty. No fast man shall he be, entering at all sorts of hours, with his coat pockets full of door-knockers and champaign corks; pouring the minor contents of the coal-scut tle into the boots of his neighbors, or wind ing up his watch with the snuffers. He shall avoid casinos, select dancing acade mies, free-and-easios, ''assaults of arms"nnd harmonic meetings. He shall never have heard of the Cole Role; and the ghastly merriment known as "life in London" af ter midnight, shall be as a sealed book to him. Yet he must amuse himself some times. "All work. and no play, makes Jack a dull boy." Perhaps my man be longs to a literary and scientfic institution ; perhaps he attends mesmeric lectures, or is present at expositions of the "Odd force," perhaps he sits under my humorous, and ac complished friend Mr. John Parry, or joins in the sturdy choruses with which Mr. Henry Russell delights to entertain his audience. Or, he may have a fancy for Thursday eve ning lectures at his chapel; or for chemis try, and burning holes is the carpet and furniture with strong acids ; or for Sadler's Wells Theatre, or for Doctor Bachhoffner and the Polytecnic Institution, or for a quiet, nightly gape at two penny whist.— At any rate, I will suppose that moderate amusements and the creme= of society, including an evening party now and then, and some high days and holidays at Christ mas and Easter or eo, will give an average of two hours per diem—or six years more to be struck off the seventy. NNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 28, 1860. Healthy and laborious and robust as I am willing to allow my man to be, he cannot expect to go through life without an attack of some of - those aliments to which all hu man being are liable. He will probably, as a child, have the usual allowance of teeth ing, fits, measles, hooping cough, chicken pox and scarletina ; to say nothing of the supplementary, and somewhat unnecessary fits of sickness suffered by most babies through involuntary dram-drinking in a course of "Daily's Elixir," "Godfrey's Cordial," and the nurse's pharmacoceia in general. When my than grows up, it is probable that he will hare two or three good fits of illness, •strong fevers and spasms at the turning points of life. Then, there will be days when he will be "poorly," and days when he will be "queer," and days when he will be "all overish." Altogether, I assume that be will be ill an hour a day, or three years during the seventy; and a lucky individlial he will be, if he gets oft with that allowance of sickness. And lot it be thoroughly understood that, in this calculation, I have never dreamt of making my man : A smoker—in which case goodness alone knows how many hours a day he would puff away in pipes, hookas, cigars, cheroots or cigarettes. A drinker—or what is called in the North of England, a "bidder," in public-house bars, or snuggeries; simpering over a gin noggin, or blinking nt the reflection of his sodden face in a pewter counter. A "mooner," fond of staring into shop windows, or watching the laborers pulling up the pavement to inspect the gas-pipes, or listening stolidly to the dull "pech" of the paver's rammer on the Jags. A day dreamer, an inveterate chess play er, an admirer of fly fishing, a crack shot, a neat hand at tandem driving, or an ama teur dog fancier. Were he to be any of these, the whole of his daily four-and-twen ty hours would be gone, before you could say Jack Robinson. No; steady, robust, laborious, shall be this man of mine. Let me recapitulate, and see how many hours he has a day to be steady and laborous in. In bed 8 hours. Washing and dressing *au hour. Eating and drinking 2 hours. Love 1 hour. Talking 1 hour. Amusements 2 hours. Sickness 1 hour. Total These fifteen daily hours and a half amount in all to forty six years and six months. To these must be added fifty-tWo days in every year; on which days, being Sundays, my man is forbidden to work at all. These fifty-two Sabbaths amount in the 'aggregate to eight years, seven months, ten days and twelve hours; and the grand total to be deducted from the span of man's life is fifty-five years. one month, ten days and twelve hours : leaving fourteen years, ten' months, nineteen days and twelve hours, for my man to be steady and labori ous in. Oh, sages of the East and West I oh, wise men of Gotham, forever going to sea in bowls, political and otherwise—boastful talkers of the "monuments of human in dustry," and the "triumphs of human perseverance,"—lecturers upon patience slid ingenuity, what idlers you all are! These few paltry years are ull, you can devote from three-score and ten to wisdom, and learning, and art! Atoms in immensity— bearers of fitrthing rushlights amid a blaze of gas, you must needs think Time was made for you, and you not made for Time I Did I so greatly err then, when, in a former paper, I asked what authority was to a man, or a man to authority ? Should he be licensed to prate so glibly of ages gone by, when he can give but so sorry an ac count of the years he really possesses for his own use and benefit ? •'What do you call Antiquity?" the Ti tans might ask him, not in any way sneer ingly but in a tone of good humored banter. `•Where are your remote ages—your land marks of the days of old? Do you know that from the first day that you were per mitted to call Christmas Day, to the end of that year which expired on the 31st of De cember last, there had only elapsed nine hundred and seventy-three millions, five hundred and eleven thousand, two hundred minutes; nine hundred and odd million rev olutions of the minute hand of your watch? And do you call that that antiquity? Are these few minutes to count fur anything considerable among the accumulated ages of the World?" The World! I speak of ours—the par ram —the yester-born—the ball that has but seen some five thousand, eight hundrad and fifty-two years a rolling whose certificate of birth is but of three billions, seventy-five millions, nine hundred and eleven thousand, two hundred minutes date. The Egyptian mummies buried three thousand years ago in the caves behind Medinet Abou, but now present among us in the British Museum, make Time a baby. In its face, Homer, with his priltry three thousand years of age, seems as juvenile as the veriest schoolboy who ever spouted Terence in the West minster Dormitory. The Chinaman, the itindoos, noy, the old Egyptians even— Osiris, Cheops, Mummy wheat and all.L would make Time smile with pity, if the month of Time were not immovable like himself. One thousand, eight hundred and sixty years only, have been numbered with the dead since the Shepherds saw the Star in the East. The lives of thirtyeight men, each living an average life of fifty years. would take us back to Solomon's temple in all its glory—to the pool of Bethesda, the feast by the mountain, and the Sunday corn field. More; each century can boast of some patriarch, some centenarian, some old Par, in some quarter or other of the globe. Acting on this calculation, we should want but the lives of eighteen men and three quarters, to reach to more than the time of Herod of Galilee, and Caiphas the high priest. Talk not to my man then of your antiqui ty. The lives of four fifty years' men, place within our grasp Oliver Cromwell in semi sovereignty at Whitehall. Blake scouring the seas for Duchen, Prince Rupert bucca neering, the "young man" Charles Stewart "bard up" at the Hague,. entreating the Queen of Hungary to prick him down cornatos and send bim a fiddler. Seven men of the like age, flaunt Peter the Her mit's cross in our eyes ; chorus in our ears the Crusaders' war-cry, "Hicrosolyma cst perdita 1" Not quite twenty half-century men, and we shall be at Hastings, where, in years yet to come, the Abbey of Battle is to be built—by the side of Harold, the last Saxon king—of Guillaume Talliefer— of William of Normandy, erst called the Bastard, but soon to bear the prouder soubri• pet of Conquerer. #tiquity I I might have bad a grand father (if I ever had one, which is doubtful to Your Highness,) who might have fought at Preston Pans. My great grand-father might have beheaded Charles the First. My great-great-gran I-father might have talked scandal about Queen Elizabeth, when Queen Elizabeth watt alive to cut his head off for daring to talk it—or for daring to have each a thing as a head about him, if so her Royal humour ran. Still, man, be thankful. The fourteen years, ten months, and odd, allowed you to work and learn in are sufficient. I take one moral of my man to be that an Injustice or iVrong, which seems in his slight vision eternal, is but a passing shadow that Heaven, for its great purposes, permits . to fall upon this earth. What has been, may be, shall be, must be,cry the unjust stewards and wrong doers. No, my good friends, not so. Not even though your families "came over" with the Conqueror, or trace back in a straight line to the wolf that suckled Romulus and his brother. Be in the right, keep moving and improving, stand not too much on tout small footing of anti quity, or a very few generations of My Man shall trip you up, and your ancient places shall know you no more. The Morals of Trade An ancient writer named Hosea once said, speaking of a tribe of men, and liken ing it to an individual : "He is a merchant; the balances of deceit are in his hand; be luveth to oppress." However true this may have been of merchants, as such, in a past age, it is not truo of all merchants, of the lust or the present age; and, therefore, while the deceitfulness, knavery, selfishness, and dishonorableness of merchants among us should be, as they have been and will be in this paper, held up to opprobrium, it is right that the upright, independent, truth ful, and "princely" merchants should be commended, in contrast with those of an opposite character, so that the balances, in which are weighed the just and the unjust, should be held by Justice. Auctioneers. A countryman strayed into a city auction store, and stood near the auo tioneer while he was rapidly selling various articles, stating that they cost so much sterling, that the colors were fast, that there were bnt eleven in market, that they were going at half their oost, that it was the last opportunity of buying so cheap, etc., etc., and pledging his word and honor that all he said was sacredly true. At the close of the sale the countryman, leaning on his cane, looked up into the face of the auc tioneer, and said : "Allow me, sir, to ask you one question : where do you expect to go when you die?" An auctioneer in ono of our large cities was so truthful, so noble in his whole deportment, so inflexible in stat ing the exact qualities of goods, that the company ever reposed the most implicit confidence in hie assertions. lie often had evening sales, and bi,ls were very freely made by those at too great a distance to handle the goods. Buyers had perfect con fidence that what was said of every article, of their cost, their quality, and their value, was exactly so. This man's business and riches increased from year to year, and his reputation kept palm with his prosperity. Defrauding the Government. An import er, who was also an officer of a church, but one who practically believed that religion was good in its place, set hie vita at work to evade the revenue laws, thus defrauding his country while he injured hie neighbors. There was an ad valorem duty on a certain article, but by an ingenious contrivance he managed to get round the laws and enrich himself, while every other importer lost money. We know that man well, and to mention his name would be to tell the story which has been a thousand times told in business circles. Another merchant, who anfortonately did not belong to any church, and who wet sometimes, we are sorry to my, both pro. $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IP NOT IN ADVANC fane and passionate, had such a scrupulous regard for common honesty, the just enact ments of government, and commercial in tegrity, that if he found in a package of goods imported by him an extra article, even a dress for his wife, he would be sure to enter it at the Custom House. He would as soon have cheated his neighbor outright as obtain an advantage over him in such a mean way. This man practiced more re ligion than he professed, while the other professed much but practiced little. Union-zarert. A Southern trader came to this city to do a rare thing—to pay cash for his entire purchases. Determined not to buy of any man who was not true to the South, he went to the store of and said, "Are you an Abolitionist ? If you are, I will not buy of you." The reply was, "Yes, I am an Abolitionist ; for although I would like to trade with you, I cannot deny my principles." The Southerner nest went to the store of —, who was an officer of an anti-slavery society. The same question was put to him, and the reply was, "Why, aye, co. I don't like all the Abolitionists do." Nort he went to the warehouse of —, a well-known anti-slavery man, pro pounding the same question to him. /Ilia merchant, with rare self-possession and Attic: wit, repliat "I should like to ask you a question or two, in my turn : aro you a close-communion Baptist ?" The South erner looked surprised, and said, "What if lam ?" Ile was answered, "Why, in that case, I cannot sell you any goods; not even foi cash." After pricing goods in the mar ket, the Southerner returned to this store and made his purchases. On settling his bill, he was inquisitive to know why Mr. would nut sell goods, for cash even, to close-communion Baptists. Mr. —laugh ed, and said, "I have no prejudice against them, or any other seat ; but you asked me a foolish question, and I replied by asking you another—that's all." Shoemaker. It is a common remark that "ehoemakers never tell the truth," although we believe thorn to be, as a whole, as relia ble as men in other trades. A merchant, after ordering a pair of boots in this city, asked, "When will they be done?" "Next Saturday night," was the prompt reply. "Now you know you lie 1" said the plain spoken merchant. "Well," said the boot ' maker, "they shall certainly be done by next Tuesday." That man was so in the habit of lying under such circumstances that he scarcely ever spoke the truth, except by mere accident. Sroh a mechanic is s. liv ing preacher of the devil, known and read of all men with whoin he comes in contact, waxing worse and worse, [without reforms don; his last end in this life is usually poverty. Old Saying. "Honesty is the best policy." We have heard this from our youth up, but honesty is something better than policy—it oreatee self-respect, acquires confidence, in spires contentment, and insures success. A large lumber merchant, and a scrupulously honest man, of Boston, who from small bvginnings arose to be a man of wealth and influence, once said, "If I had no moral principle, I should say, I believe that the surest way to make a fortune is to be strict. ly honest." Think of this, young men.— Commercial integrity is sound philosophy. It is something good to live by and to die by, while dishonest gains torment the con soience, living and dying. On an old tomb stone in Dorchester, Mass., is the following quaint inscription, written by some one whe had an appreciation of moral worth, albeit he was a poor poet. Who does not desire to merit such an encomium / "Here hes the body of Deacon David Aurieult , .. Who in the ways of God walked perpendicular..., Christian morality is one thing, and com mercial morality is another, and a very different thing. The proposition is start ling, but unquestionably true. Christian morality is summed up in the divine com mand, that we shall do to others as we would have others do to us. But the mor ality of trade requires that we shall do to others as we are afraid they will do to us if they have the chance. It is a good com mercial principle to take for granted that every man is a rogue till be has proven himself honest—worthy of credit at four and six months. The fear of his dishonesty governs our conduct. First, we see to it that we are not overreached ; second, if we overreach him, that is his misfortune, and no fault °fours. How many merchantsare there who can lay their hands on their hearts and say, "I am not in this relation of antagonism to my fellows, for I do not take for granted that a man is dishonest till be proves himself otherwise?" We fear not many. To mistrust your neighbor, is the first law of trade ; and the second is like unto it—get the better of him if you can.— A well-known and eloquent Doctor of Divinity, some years ago, preached and published a series of sermons in relation to the duties of merchants ; and be advanced and defended the proposition that the com mercial man who by Lis enterprise and energy had gained possession of information which *mold make it for his interest to buy or sell, had a right to use it for that pur pose. Suppose the neighbor of whom be bought or to whom he sold was ruined by the operation, could the merchant call him his "neighbor" according to the New Testa- , went ? This reminds us of an old story, often told in this city, and often referred to among business men elsewhere. Many years ago a merchant of this city, who Wag also a [WHOLE NUMBER 1,561. member of the Society of Friends, called upon an underwriter—it was before thedays of insurance offices—and asked him to take a risk on a vessel to arrive, of whose fate there was much doubt. The risk was taken at a high premium. A few hours after the owner heard from the ship, and immediately wrote to the underwriter thus: "Friend —: If thou haat not signed the policy of insurance on my vessel, thou needst not do so, as I have heard from her." The under. writer, who was also a Friend, on receiving the note from the messenger, stepped at once into a back room, signed the policy, and sent word back, while the ink on the instrument was not yet dry, that be load signed it. And this was precisely the thing which the owner hoped be would do, and so worded the note that he would be tempted to do so, in case he had not already put his name to the policy. For the fact was, it was the loss and not the safety of the vessel that had been beard of. Here, everybody agrees, were a couple of "sharpers," and the community condemned both. But suppose the owner had received the news exclusively, and kept it to himself till the policy was signed, though without saying a word to procure its signature ; or suppose the underwriter had received in-' telligenco of the safety of the vessel before he signed the policy, and then bad put his name to it for the sake of the premium ; what, in either case, would have been the judgment of commercial moralists? Take another instance of more moderate date. A gentleman went into a house as a limited partner, in the hope that the amount he put into it might save it from bankruptcy. The law in regard to limited partnership was, so far as he knew, complied with by hie lawyers. The creditors, moreover, were notified by circular of this change in the firm. In the course of a month or two the house yielded to the pressure and "went under," nod "a crowner's . quest" of ore& itors sat on the remains. What the deceased had about him, however, was of more in terest to them than what ho died of. Now not ono of these men, observe, supposed that the new partner, WM a general partner. or liable only for a specified amount. But presently, by the merest chance, "some body's cap got a notable feather," by dis covering that the advertisement of this speo ial copartnership in a newspaper was ne glected. The spirit of the law had beau complied with, for everybody' oonoerned knew of the faot; but ice letter had been dis regarded through the carelessness of a clerk. It happened that this special partner was wealthy enough to pay every dollar of in debtedness of the house, if hold as a general partner. But could honest merchants or honorable men avail themselves of such is pure accident? They were men—some of them high in civil office; others of goodly repute in the church. Could they do thus to their neighbor, in the face of the moral law, and be sheltered only by a legal teob- - nicality ? They jumped at the chance, every one of them, and esteemed themselves. exceedingly fortunate that so happy a piece of luck had turned up in their favor. A. Leg Lost. We will take a quiet post of observation in the area of the operating theatre' at one of our Metropolitan hospitals, in this year of our Lord, 1860. Notice is posted that amputation of the thigh will be performed at two o'olook P. M., and we occupy our seats ten minutes before the hour. The area itself is small, of a horse-shoe form, and surrounded by seats rising on a steep incline one above another, to the number of eight or nine tiers. From 100 to 150 students occupy these, and pack pretty closely, especially on the lower rows whence the boat view is obtained. • For an assemblage of youth between eighteen and twenty-five years, who have nothing to do but to wait, they are tolerably well behaved and quiet. Three or four practi cal jokers, however, are distributed among them, and so the time passed all the quick er for the rest. The cloak had not long struck two when the folding doors opened and in walked two or three of the leading surgeons of the hospital, followed by a staff of dressers, and a few professional lookers-on ; the laitcr being oonfined to seats reserved for them on the lowest and innermost tier. A small table, covered with instruments, occupies a place on one ride of the area ; water, sponges, towels, and lint, are placed on the opposite. The surgeon who is about to operate, rapidly glances over the table, and sees that his instruments are all there, and in readiness. Ile requested a colleague to take charge of the tourniquet, and with a word deputes one assistant to take "the flaps," an other to hold the lint, a third to hand the i astral:ciente, and the last t take charge of the sponges. This done, and while the patient is inhaling chloroform in an ad joining apartment, under the care of a gentleman who makes that his special do ty, the operator gives to the now bushed and listening auditory a brief history of the circumstances which led to an incu rable disease in the left knee-joint. and the reason why he decides on the opera tion *bent to be performed. Re has scare*• ly closed, when the unconscious patient is brought in by a couple of sturdy por ters, and laid upon the operating table; a small, but strong and sturdy erection, four feet by two feet wide, which stands in the centre of the area. The left being We doomed leg, the right is fastened by a bin-
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