Clearfield Republican. (Clearfield, Pa.) 1851-1937, April 05, 1854, Image 1

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    i*h tthe Republican.
Education, I consider as consisting in
the formation of the character, in the prop*
oration of own for usefulness and happi
■ ness. It involves the right development
and cultivation and direction of all his
powers, physical, intellectual and moral.
It implies instruction in all the branches of
knowledge which are necessary to useful
and efficient action in the sphere of the
individual, , But it must also include the
physical, (raining which is to render the
body capablo of executing the purposes of
the soul. The skill which is requisite in
order to apply our knowledgeand strength
to the very best advantage; . and above all,
the moral discipline by which the charac*
ter and direction of all our efforts are to be
decided. ■ Each of these branches includes
an extension list of particulars ; and the
means ofeducation comprise all thoso cir
cumstances. and influences by which the
human character is formed and modified.
In this view, education does not begin
with the school nor does it terminate with
the university. It begins with the first mo-j
ment of consciousness. Every being, ev-i
cry object, every event forms a part of it. I
The first lessons are given in the arms of
the mother. The parent by her looks and
movements, and the sun by its varying
lights, nre educating the eye. The food
which is given him calls forth his appetite
and forms him to habits of temperance or
sensuality. The clothing which ly^wears
begins to inspire tho taste for simplicity
or the lure of finery. ~
In the progress of childhood, tho daily,
and hourly treatment he receives, tho con
duct he witnesses and the language he
hears in the family circle, in the company
of domestics, in the little society of his
school fellows and play mates, all exert nn
influence upon him, no less decided, and
often more powerful than the instructions
of the school or the exhortations of the pa
rent, or tho worship of the church, and all
therefore make an essential part of his ed
As he advances into youth and manhood,
the number of educators who thus sur-!
round him, and tho various influences to!
which he is exposed are greatly increased.!
Society at length begins to act upon him ]
as ho feels the force of public opinion.—
The church presents its weekly school of 1
instruction and discipline, which may ex- i
ert the most efficient and salutary influ
enco ; and the employs its power in :
directing and restraining, and thus educa
ting the man by means of laws and iusti- 1
tutions whose operations terminate only in
the grave.
Education, then, in its largest sense, is
not limited to time; it is not confined to|
the narrow, foundaries of existence which'
we can discern. We have said that its
first lessons are given in the mother’s i
arms. , The family is its primary school ; |
the scries of public institutions is bat tliei
academy of this great cause.. I
Readers, let us look at the benefits of!
early knowledge.
It is peculiarly desirable to acquire as 1
much knowledge us possible while young,
because il.istbon acquired most cosily. All
the powers of the mind are then active and
elastic —the feelings are fresh and vigor
ous—imagination is lively —the spirit ex
ults in buoyant hope, which nerves it to
severe efforts. Obstacles arc soon sur
mounted, and the: yielding mind is readily
molded to patterns of exalted worth and
greatness. As you ndvance froth youth,
the mind becomes less inclined and less
able to expand, so that if you pass on to
inaturo years with your mind narrowed by |
ignorance, it will probably always revolve
in the same little circle.
Earlv knowledge is not dnly the easiest
acquired but Ike longest retained. The
memory becomes treacherous as age ad
vances. With most persons it begins to
fail by thirty-five or forty, and they then
find by experience, that their early knowl
edge lms the firmest hold of their minds.
One thorough reading of history while
young, is worth more for the purpose of
impressing its facts' upon tho memory than
half-a-dozen readings at the ago of forty
or fifty. Hence, the lessons of the nurse
ry, the primary school, and the sabbath
echool impart the knowledge which most |
faithfully attends us through our life.— ;
Early knowledge is valuable capital, with |
Which-to set out in life. It gives one anj
advantageous start. If the possession ofj
■ knowledge has a given value at fifty, it has •
a much greater at twenty-five, for there is
(ho use of it for twenty-five of the most
■ important years ol his life, and- it is worth
more than a hundred per cent interest.—
Indeed, who can estimate the interest ol
knowledge, its price is above rubies.
How often do we hear men advanced in
life say: ‘lf I had possessed the knowl-
when young that I now have, 1 might
'•have bedoroe rich > learned and great, and
1 influential. The essential elements ofkpowl-
D edde you may acquire while young. If fi»-
ivbwd WitK opportunities, therefore it is
yWrl own fault if t you do not secure the
’needful knowledge. -
' ''-’Early knowledge,isimportant to enable
'iihe ‘iii tseastm to feel his own strength
thousands mistake ‘heir calling for want of
it. Men, who might have acted a brilliant
' part in' ,the pursuits for . which they -vyero
adopted, dm often doomed through life to
"o tiresbmo and fruitless employment be
cduse they. did not possess sufficientknowl
bdgerwdilo to, direct energies
fdK .course. Most of all is early
•knowledge important, to dispose and ena
’-blc. ydu to pstJnjpe the perils.and ; tempta.
‘irons M invite your rising energies
away 'npia' thq.solicitations, of the youth-
TuT—to lay before you ,the vast; motives to
rise to the proper dignity of yoiir intollec
fttl add ritdral being ; that you may secure
the ereat end; for which'you were made.
Id a very important' sense, youths are
«aved by knowledge, and destroyed for
thdlactofit. ‘My people
«ald our Creator ‘lor lack of knowledge ,
because thou hast rejected knowledge, I
Cleorftela -HUpitbUtMu
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Volume 5,
also reject thee.' Therefore let overy’
young person to whom the acquiring of
knowledge is yet possible, be ndmonished
to seek it rathor than fine gold; to prize it
above rubios, assured that nil the things to
be desired are not to bo compared with'it.
Knowledge is generous and communi
cative, and jealousy at its progress is a sure
symptom of its want—but the day has
come when it cannot be successfully re- i
sisted. ‘Superstition may condemn Galli-1
loe’ for his improved astronomy, but the |
earth continues to turn around with all its!
stupid inhabitants revolving into light.—!
Some are born in darkness and have al- 1
wayB dwelt thore from choice; it is their
native land; for it they fight, and it is
the only sense in which they are patriotic,
| lhe more objections ore thrown
('heforo the flooding tide of knowledge, the
[more destructive energies will be develop
ed. The force of cannon may quell mobs
: but education will prevent them.
I Moral power creates the strongest mu
ini lions of safety, while arbitrary compu
lsion degrades both the tyrant and his vie
j tim. We may expect a few will cry out
I against increased illumination, as that
j which they deprecate. Education cures su
perstition and destroys all tyranny over
body and soul, and the firo cross of wis
dom is shining from hill-top to hill-top,
land is rapidly hounding from land to land.
hope she has settled and spread
! her caressing pinions overour native State.
[The Keystone is tho beautiful motto which
our great Slute has chosen. Let her wise
ily fulfill that noble idea, by striving thro’
,thc means of nn enlarged and thorough
education of the people to rise higher nnd
; higher in the endless scale of good.
Clearfield, Feb. 28, ’54. T. J. M.
Fields Intkxued fob Conx.—lf the
ground you intend to put in corn next
spring is a clover lay, manure and plough
it up deeply': leave it until just before you
are going to plant your corn, then'harrow
it until you get it into fine tilth. This done,
sow on each acre of it two bushels of salt,
harrow it in, roll, and plant your corn; —
nnd you will experience but little unnoy
mice from grub and other worms, as the
salt will give them their quietus just as no
tably as though you had done it with a
bodkin. Thus instead of being depredu
ted upon and injured by these troublesome
'serpents, your soil will be enriched by tho
i decomposition of their bodies, and they
; made to eucourage the growth of your
! corn. This salt, however, will do more
: than this : it will to a considerable extent,
j act as a fixer to the ammoniu in the soil as
it may be formed, attract moisture from the
atmosphere, preserve corn plants from a
firing, and furnish no inconsiderable quan
tity of soda and chloride for their nppro
-1 priation.
God Bless the Honest Labored j
In no country of tho earth is tho honest
labor so blessed as in these United Slates.
No where else is ho so Intelligent and in
genious. The American laborer is renown
ed, the world over, for his skill, industry
and enterprise, and we hope and trust ho
always .will be.
Young man! and you young woman!
never say or think evil of the laborer.—
When tempted to despise employment, re
member Him who said "The laborer is
worthy of his hire,” and do not forget thut
when you repose in the silent tomb, there
will yet remain good and true hearted of
both sexes, who will pray sincerely, in the
words of tho poet:
“God Bless the Honest Laborer.”
Cross Examination.— *Mr. Witness,
you stated that my client manifested great
astonishment when you told him the facts
you stated. Now, how did he manifest as
'Ho looked astonished.’
‘But what were the indications of aston
ishment, sir V You seem to be'a very
smart witness, and you ought to be able to
tell me this.’
‘Oh, I merely judged of his feelings by
his general appearance.’
‘That won’t answer, sir. If you can’t
describe the appearance of my client when
astonished, in order to give the jury an
idea of it, suppose you look astonished
once yourself.’ -
‘Well; now, my sharp fellow, wlmt would
astonish such an astonishing witness as
yourself, hey V
‘Whv, if you wish, to paralyze mo with
astonishment,, just show me un honest law
yer’ . ,
•The the—wi —wt —witness can take
his seat.’
(ttrThe lady’ who treats the husband
man with scorn, because he is a farmer,
contributes something towards increasing
the number of candidates for the States
prison and the gallows.
OirAll the' true honor and happiness
there is in this world follows labor. Wore
it not for working-men, there could be no
progress in either science or art. Work
ing men are earth’s true nobility. Those
who lieve without work are all paupers.
OtrTbe very soul and essence of trade,
Bays a distinguished author, are regular
payments —we would add, particularly in
printing. Delinquents will please ■ take
notice. £ . i
Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Adams were near
neighbors. If this had been in the city,
they might have lived thus for many years
without making each other’s acquaintance. |
As, however, the villago in which they
lived was but a small one, visiting natur
ally led to fumiliar acquaintance, and this
to on interchange of neighborly courtesies.
It will not do to cultivate exclusiveness in
a country village—to ‘keep one’s self to
one’s self,’ as the saying is. Every one
makes it a point to know all about every
body else, and feels.agrieved if any impe
diments are thrown in the way. This,
however, is something of a digression.
Mrs. Adams had but lately become a
resident of the village'- where my story is
located, und her acquaintance with Mrs.
Brown was, therefore, of but recent date.
‘Bridget,’ said Mrs. Adams to the Irish
mnid-of-all-work, entering this lady’s pre
cinct one morning, ‘how much sugar is
there in the bucket ?’
‘Shure ma’am and there is’nt more than
enough to last to-day.'
‘ls it possible I’ said Mrs. Adams in sur
prise, ‘and it was only got Inst week.—
What makes it go so last?’
‘l’m thinkin’ ma’am, it’s because Mrs.
Brown has sent to borrow it three times.’
‘And hasn’t she thought of returnin'; it?’
‘Well first and lust,she’s borrowed about 1
ten pounds, and a few days ago she sent in
two pounds of dirty brown sugar, full of
sand and sticks, that wasn’t fit for any
Christian at all to eat,’
‘Has she borrowed any thing elsolalely?’
‘1 should like to know what sho hasn’t
borrowed. Yesterday she borrowed a bar
of soap and a quart of milk, half a dozen
pounds of flour, and a pint of molasses.—
Every day she her Jane to borrow
something or oilier.’
‘Aud doesn’t she return other things
better than she has done in the case of the
‘Faith ma’am, and its lucky you may
think yourself if she returns anything at
‘lf that’s the case, Bridget, matters ngist
be looked into a little. When Jane comes
to borrow anything more, just let me know
of it before you let it go.’
‘I can’t understand,’ thought Mrs. Ad
ams, as she walked away, ‘wlmt a woman
can be thinking of, to depend so constantly
on her neighbors. To my mind it’s just
as bad to borrow an article without intend
ing to return it, as it is to pick a persons
Mrs. Adams hod hardly seated herself
to work when Bridget popped her head in
at the door, and snid :
‘Please, ma’am, Jane is here, und she
says, Mrs. Brown sends her compliments
and would be much obliged for the loan of
a castor.’
‘Hasn’t she got one of her own V
‘Yes ma’am, but it has got rusty, and
she’s going to have company for dinner.
‘Very well, we can do without ours for
one day ; but you must tell Jane to return
it before the dinner hour to-morrow.’
‘Yes ma’am.’
Bridget disappeared, hut returned in the
space of a minute.
‘Jane forgot to ask for tho loan of a ta
ble cloth ana a dozen knives and forks.’
‘What can that woman mean!’ said
Mrs. Adams in astonishment at the new
‘Well, you mny give them to her, but
tell her strictly that they must bo returned
‘lt seems to me,’ Bhe continued, when
Bridget hud left the room, ‘that Mrs. B.
must be strangely destitute of household
conveniences, or she would not be obliged
to borrow by wholesale, as she has done
‘Bridget,’ said Mrs. Adams the next ev
ening, ‘lias Mrs. Brown leturned tho arti
cles she borrowed yesterday ?’
‘Faith, not a bit of it; but hark—there’s
-June knocking at the door'this minute,
perhaps she is bringing them back.’
‘Mrs. Brown sends her compliments,’
said the young lady in question, on being
admitted, ‘and. would be greatly obliged
by the loan of a pair of glass lamps. Tom
my broke ours to-day, and she ain’t got
any to burn.’
‘Well,’ said Mrs. Adams, not overwait
ingly, ‘sho cun have ours for to-night. I
suppose, of course, she will provide for
herself to-morrow. But you have not
brought in the castor and other articles I
lent you yesterday.’
‘La, no,’ said Jane, cooly ; Mrs. Brown
thought as she expected company to din
ner day after to-morrow, she’d just keep
’em and that wonld save tho trouble of
sending again.’
‘Very considerate, upon my word, 5
thought Mrs. Adams, though she did not
say it. She could not help saying, how
ever, with some slight emphasis, ‘ls thero
anything else I could lend Mrs. Brown to
‘There now,’ said Jape, with a sudden
recollection, ‘I came near forgetting "one
thing, and I should if you hadn’t mention
ed it. Mrs. Brown would like to borrow
I your gridiron.’
. ‘Gridiron!’ said Mrs. Adams in some
f ‘Yes, ma’am; we’ve mislaid ours where
Clearfield, Pa., April 5, 1854.
we can’t find it, so if you havn’t no object
ions, we’d like to borrow yours, as we’re
going to broil some steak to-morrow morn
‘Bridget,’ said Mrs. Adams, in a tone of
despair, ‘get the gridiron for Jane, and if,’
she continued, turning to the latter, ‘you
could make it convenient to return it in a
fortnight, I should be glad.’
‘Oh, yes, said Jane, simply, not noticing
the sarcastic lone in which she spoke. ‘I
don’t think wc shall want it above a week.’
‘I don’t see the castor,’ remarked Mr.
Adams, the next day to his wife at the
dinner table. ‘Bridget ought to remember
to place it oiv the table.’
‘So she would, but Mrs. Brown, our next
door neighbor, has borrowed it.’
‘Borrowed the castor? what n strange
request, I think. But why didn’t Bridget
cook tlie steak I sent home V
‘Because Mrs. Brown had borrowed tho
‘Mrs. Brown again! You ought not to
lend so freely. By the way, where arcnll
the umbrellas ? It rained this morning, but
I Could find none in their place.’
‘I don’t know, I’m sure. Perhaps Brid
get docs.’
‘Bridget,’ said she, when that young
lady had answered the summons of the
bell, ‘do you know what has become of all
the umbrellas I’
‘Sure ma’am, Mrs. Brown has got two
of ’em. She borrowed them a week ago.’
‘And hasn’t she returned them yet?’
‘No ma’am, nnd I don’t believe that’s
the worst of it.’
Just then the bell rang, and Bridget
obeyed the summons.
‘Mrs. Brown sends her compliments,’
said she re-appearing, ‘and would like to
borrow your largest wash tub.’
Mr. and Mrs. Adams looked at each oth
er in astonishment.
‘Well,’ said the former, at length, ‘for
sublime audacity the palm must certainly,
be nwarded to Mrs. Brown. It is said that
three removes are as bad os a fire, but 1
would like to know how many removesare
as bad as a borrowing'neighbor ?’
‘Am I to tell Jane that sir V asked
Bridget a little mischeviously ?
‘No, no,’ said Mrs. Adams, laughing. —
‘You may give her the tub, and you
needn’t say anything about returning it —
it won’t do any good.’
‘Seriously,’ she continued, .something
must be done, or the house will soon bo
empty. You don’t know half the extent
to which Mrs. Brown carries her borrowing
propensity. Within the past week she has
borrowed tea, coflee,milk,sugarflour,eggs,
frying pans, table-napkins, a castor, grid
iron, shovel and tongs, and other articles,
as the auctioneers say, too numerous to
mention. This is bad enough, but Mrs.
Brown in addition to this, seems to regard
the act of borrowing as investing her with
the right of permanent possession, at least
I judged so from the fact that she seldom
or never returns the articles she borrows.’
‘ls it possible,’ said Mr. A., in amaze
ment ; ‘some end must be put to this whole
sale robbery. Suppose you begin to bor
row of her. It is a bad rule that won’t
work both ways, and perhaps if you make
her feel a little of the annoyance to which
she has subjected you, it may be produc
tive of benefit.’
‘A good idea,’ said the wife laughing;
‘and it is better to try this course than to
refuse directly lending any further—that
would only produce bad feelings between
‘And yet,’ said Mr. A., ‘we must come
to that finally unless the present course
And next morning Bridget was sent to
Mrs. B’s. to borrow half a dozen tumblers,
a nutmeg grater, and a couple of sheets.
Mrs. Brown was surprised. She had
never before received such qn application
from Mrs. Adams, and she could not help
wondering, besides, at the miscellaneous
nature of the loans requested. Her sur
prise was increased on the following day,
when Bridget brought her mistress’ com
pliments, and would like to borrow her
clothe horse.
‘Yes, you may take it, but we shall want
it early next week. But havn't you brought
back the tumblers ?’
‘No ma’am,’ said Bridget; ‘mistress
expects considerable company in a day or
two, and it will save the trouble ofborrow
ing again if she don’t return them till af
‘Well!’ thought Mrs. Brown, ‘1 must,
say that’s decidedly cool!’
Every New England house-keeper knows
that Tuesday is ironing day in all welt
regulated families, ‘I should like to know,’
said Mrs. Brown on thnt morning, ‘why
Mrs. Adams don’t return my clothes horse.
She must know that it will be in uso to
day. Jane go over and ask for it.’
Jane did her errand. ‘Give my compli
ments to Mrs. Brown,’ replied Mrs. A., and
tell her that since she borrowed our clothes
line we have to dry our clothes in tho
house, and, therefore, were obliged to get
Iter clothes horse. YVe should have bedn
through using it, but as she has our larg
est tub, it takes more than one dny to get
through with the washing.’
This message produced a little sensation
in the houso over the way. The result
was the return of the articles mentioned
by Mrs. A.
Mrs. B’s. eyeß began to open to the true
state of things, but she was not yet cured,
however, for.the next day Juno made her
requesting the loan of the
‘Tclf'fSfr mistress,’ said Mrs. A., ‘that
it is-gut of my power to do so, ns she bor
rowed it a month ago, und has not yet re
turned it.’
Mrs. Brown’s eyes were opened wider
- next day Mrs. A. was requested by
a message, to send a list of the articles
which had been borrowed by Mrs. Brown,
and tho latter would return thorn.
With Bridget’s help, Mw..JL. made out
a list of thirty-seven she
sent without comment.
Mrs. Brown was petrified with-astonish
ment. She was really very sorry for the
trouble and inconvenience which she had
occasioned her neighbor. She sent a mes
sage to that effect, when, after two day’s
dilligent search, she contrived toget togeth
er all the articles mentioned in Mrs. Ad
ams’ list.
She was now thoroughly cured of bor
[Reader, have you borrowed the paper
from which you read the above, or are
you a regular subscriber?]
Look Before you Kick. —A minister
in one of our Orthodox churches, while on
his way to preach a funeral semon in tho
country; called to see one of his members,
an old widow lady, who lived near the.
road he was travelling.
. The old lady' had just been making
sausages and she felt proud of them—they
were so plump, round and sweet. Of
courso she insisted on her minister taking
some of the links home to his family.—
He objected on account of not having his
portmanteau along. This objectiTJn was
soon overruled, and the old lady, nftcr
wrapping them in a rag, carefully placed
a bundle in cither pocket of tlie preacher’s
capacious great coat. Thus equipped he
started for '.he funeral.
While attending to the solemn ceremo
nies of the grave, some hungry dogs scent-1
cd the sausages, and were not long in
trncking them to the pockets of tho good
mans overcoat. Of course this was n
great annoyanco, and he was several times
under the necessity of kicking these whelps
•away. The obsequies at the grave being
complete, tho minister and congregation
repaired to the church where the funeral
discourse was to bo prenched.
After the sermon was finished, the min
ister hulled to make soma remarks to his
congregation, when a brother, who desired
to have an appointment given out, ascend
ed the sfeps of the pulpit, and gave the min
isters'coat a hich, to get his attention.—
The divine thinking it a dog having designs
upon his pocket, raised his foot, gave a sud
den kick, and sent the good brother sprawl
ing down the steps !
“You will excuse me, brethren and
sisters, said the minister, confusedly, and
without lookingatthe work he had just done,
“for 1 could not avoid it—l have sausages
in my pocket, and that dog has been try
ing to grab them ever since I came on the
Your readers may judge of the effect
such an announcement would have at a
funeral. Tears of sorrow were suddenly
exchanged for smiles of merriment”
wonders where all the pillow
cases go to. He says he never asked a
girl what she was making, while engaged
in while sewing, without being told that it I
was a pillow cuse. I
This is an evidence that the girls know I
how to answer a fool ocording to his folly.
Snooks is a good-for-nothing, impudent
follow to ask such impertinent questions,
nnd the girls were right in making a shift,
and not answering him correctly.
A aian famous for hunting up enig
mas philosophised thusi—What strange
creatures girls are. Offer one of them good
wages to work for you, and ten chances
to one if the old woman can spare any of
the girls —but just propose matrimony, und
see if they don’t jump at a chunce of work
ing a lifetime for their victuals and clothes.
Nathaniel Shelly, Esq.—He was
complaining some one had insulted him,
by sending him a letter addressed to “Nat
Shelly.” •
“Why,” said a-friend, “I don’t see any
thing insulting in that. Nat is an übrevia
tion for Nathaniel.”
“I know it,” said the little man, “but
blust his imprudence ! he spelled it with a
OO” In a laje Abolition speech in New
York, Miss Lucy Stono said :
“But 1 know so well there is cotton in
the ears of men, let us look for hope in (he
bosoms of women ”
Won’t you find cotton therd too, Miss
Lucy 1
OiT Mrs. Partington says when the mar
riage knot is f rst tied it is a “beau” knot,
but it soon gets to be a hard knot.
Folks talk about -taking the shine
out oLtheir neighbors: that may b«, but
they retain none of it themselves.
A\ Ancient Love-Leit«h. —An anti- -
quarian friend has shown us a very brown
old teller on the paper and in the cramped
chirography of the period of a hundred
yeurs ago—the body of which letter we
here copy literally, for our readers.—
Whether it is the original letter, or a copy
from' it, or a copy from some published
work, we are unable tosay. But the paper
and letter before us arc certainly a century
old. “Tho’ I never had the Happiness to
see you, no, not so muchu in a picture,
and consequently can no more tell what
Complexion you are of, than he that lives
in the Remotest pnrt9 of China ; yet Mad
am, I’m fallen passionately in love with
you ; and this affectation has taken So
•deep Root in me, that my Conscience I will
die a Martyr for you, with ns much Alarc
rity as Thousands have done for their Re
ligion, tho’ they know as little of tho truth
for which they have died, as 1 do of your
Ladyship. This may surprise you, Mad
am ; but you’ll cense to wonder, when 1
shall inform you what it wos that not only
gave birth to my Passion, but hassoeffee
tually Confirmed it. Last week riding in
to the Country about my lawful nffairs, it
was my fortune to see a most Magnificent
Seat upon the Rond: this Excited my cu
riosity to enquire after the owner of so
Beautiful a Pile; and being informed it be
longed to your Lndyship, I began that very
Moment to have a strange Inclination for
you ; but 1 was further informed that, two
Thousand acres of the best land in Eng
land belong’d to this Noble Fabrick, to
gether with a fine Purk, vnriety of Fish
Ponds, and such like conveniences. 1 fell
then up to the Ears in lovo, and then sub
mitted ton power which I could not Resist.
Thought I to myself, the owner of so many
agreeable things must needs be the most
Charming Lady in tho Universe: what
tho' she be old, her trees nre green. What
tho’ she has lost nil the Roses in her
Cheeks, She Ims enough in her gardens. —
With these thoughts I lighted from my
horse, and on n sudden fell so enamoured
with your ladyship, that I told my Passion
to every tree in your park; which by the
by ure the Tallest, Straightest, loveliest,
finest shop’d trees I ever Saw ; and 1 have
since wore out above a Dozen Penknives
in engraving your Name upon ’em. I will
appeal to your Ladyship, whether any
lover went upon more Solid Motives than
myself. Those that chusea Mistress whol
ly for her Beauty, will infallibly find their
passions to Decay with that: those that
pretend to admire a Woman for the quali
ities'of her mind, arc guilty of a piece of
Pagan superstition, longsince worn thread
bare by Plato and his Disciples; for he
that loves not a fair lady for her form as
well os her Spirit, is only fit in my opin
ion to make his Court to a Sceptre ; where
as, Madam, you need not question the sin
cerity of my Passion, which is built on the
jsame foundation with your house; grows
! with your trees, and will doily increase
, with your Estate. For all 1 know to the
j Contrary, your Ladyship may be the hand
(somest woman in the world ; but whether
; you are or no, signifies not a farthing,
| while vou have money enough to set you
ioff plho’ you were ten times more forbid
! ding than the Present Red nose Countess
i of and ten times older than the famous
I Countess of Desmond. lam a soldier by
my Profession; and I Fought for pay, so
with Heaven’s blessings, I Deign to love
pay. All your other suitors would speak
the same language to you, were they as
honest as myself; this I will tell you for
your Comfort, Madam, that if you pitch
upon me, you’ll be tho first Widow upon
Record, from the creation of the. world to
this present hour, that ever Chose a man
for telling her the truth. lam your most
passionate, etc. — Bizarre.
- n
Number 8.
Authorship or the Bible. —There are
in nil sixty-six books which comprise the
volumes of Holy Writ, which are attribu
ted to more than thirty different authors or
writers of the whole. Half of the New
Testament was composed by St. Paul, and
the next largest writer is the gentle and
beloved Saint John. With the single ex
ception of Paul, neither tradition nor his
tory has testified (hat these powerful think
ers and writers ever enjoyed the benefits
of education,or that they were ever trained
to scholarship and reasoning; yet how
ably they have written, what eminent char
acters have been chronicled by them, wbat
.great events recorded, both for time and
eternity. Jeremiah is sorrowful; Isaiah
sublime; David poetical; Daniel sagaci
ous; Hnbbakuk nnd Hagai-terse and de
dunciary ; but they all seem to have exer
cised their natural gills under the itiflueence
of Divine direction and inspiration. Moses,
with his vast knowledge and proud intelli
gence—the legislator, the reformer, the de
liverer —commenced the work] and John,
with the depth of feeling and exquisite ten
derness and simplicity, completed it. And
what do we know of the lives of all these
or oven of tho two last mentioned 1 No
thing thatdiirman vanity might exult in.—
Moses was rescued from the rushes ot the
Nile; and John died in his old age a lone
ly exile On the small island of Patinos.
How to Weed Youn Friends, —Any
particular'misfortuno will Weed them. For
instance, if you give them a violent turn
of Bankruptcy, or send a fictitious Insol
vency cutting through the whole field of
them, you will have it soon weeded. In
short, harrow them in the best why you
can, and the weeds cannot fail being col
lected by tho harrowing process. When
you have got them inn heap, you Imd bel
ter scatter them to the winds.
OCrPicklcs is of the opinion that there
i is no way in whioh a young lady can show
j her ears so effectually as to wear OriOnf
the present half-story style of bonnbts.-V
-j Tho impudent varlet 1
I OirThe Cincinnati Enquirer tells astory
of a pious old gentleman, who told his way-
ward sons, not logo, under any circum- / / y
j stances, a fishing on the Sabbath; but if/ l.
they did, by all means to bring home tl7
fish. “ /