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
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'Nos übserspsion received for a less time than six
nnonths; and no paper will be di.continued until all
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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-