7,111:748 SSo
~~
~r
IOWANDA:
Oauntap ifilorninn, 2Ptil 0. 1850,
S e fourth mgr for extrwli from the speech of
of Jlr. INGE of •Alabama, in defence of Slavery, and
,uppbrt ty Southern- doctrines.
GOOD NIGST
4'IISrGGLSTED BY k EIiGAAVVAri
Good 4ht. fair pill Nay! go not yet—
We still would gaze a little while
Upon those laughing eyes of jet,
And on that gentle, speaking smile.
A moment stay—replace that light,
And say not yet, dear girll_ good night.
The time may come—ah! will time set
His signet on so stnoothia.brow
Yuur heart would gladden',4l have met
The dear ones that are rtond you now
These *sing moments soon will eeem
The fleeting of a fairy , dream.
'lei! now you smile in happiness;
And may it never know decline , :
He that glad heart ne'er glad the less—
'rho' hearts hate broken, blithe as thine;
And girlhood's path with dowers is strewd
That fade away in womanhood.
Alas! it is not loveliness('
Can
. shield from sorrow and from care;
The sweetest features oft express
How much of sadness has been there.
L••nts be that cheek by tears unstained,
That brow by furrows uaprufaned.
How strange a web life often weaves,
With mingled threads of dark and gay ;
changefully beneath the leaves
The sunbeams and the shadows play.
f,ach joy has its own sorrow near,
Aid every smile a sister tear. •
Well—these may be but dreams at best;
May Bleep bring brighter ones to thee!
TI , T cannot be more bright and blest
Tban what ere woad the truth may be.
An.l be thy slumbers calm and light,
;fib morning break—,good night—good night
[From the Lad es* Wreath ]
VIZI:1111 Lil.).Ar:a7lll-11,
EY DAVID M. STONE
' longue is a cornueop:a of Mischief"
Why Rose what h. the matter and what-has
pened v . :exclaimed Mrs Sargent, as her dough
tottered into the parlor, (from whence she had
led.*lt a half hour before to !lisp a number of
cal 6) and threw herself half fainting up
.ll ;Ufa.
• 04ve come home with a bad head-ache," re
'let the beautiful gid, with difficulty preventing
••••t•cbs from being audible, " I lees githly and
• Nay, but 1 am sure something lots happened
•-,ll.lrets yon." said the fond mother, removing
.lal.2Theri" hat and shawl ; and drawing her
ly in her bosom,—" you are not subject, to
'IL:1 sudden attack!, and besides areloo brave to
•'y far merely bodily pain. What has disturbed
- nn sol
fire made no reply, but hid her burning cheeks
her hands which were already wet with
-earning tears, and sobbed away in silence. Her
:-ef n•hveve( its cantle, was too deep for wordA,
the end caring caresses of strong maternal
.rt i o n were rain to soothe the aiguisti of her
•,•••:: AS Ennn a 6 she could recover sufficient
she turned her tearful face toner mother's
a 3.1 men hastily retreated to her own room,
'mere we will leave her to the sanctity of her
x!. Riule we briefly explain the cause of it.
Sargent was a widow, and Nose was her
y child. They were not rich but Mrs. Sergeant
ad been left in mcderate circumstances, and no
vense
tat been spared in their (laughter's eance•
, n That she west prowl of that daughter, the
motar (1:' , 1 not aitempt to toneeal, and never
aS. pride a better reason.
Although intelTectuliy accomplished, Rode was
3, 1 from the !emit taint of peditifry, Out her man
ere had a charm which won the hearts ot young
'id old. Without being by or boisterous, she
trtaP3Ml-.-4 good old Saxon eipthet our lexi
aphers have pronounced obs - dete, without at
• svplying its place and no othor word express
% ter character so welt. -
was not mirth. for mirth she wan to. oit;ll,
was not wit, wit leaves the }WWI .00 rhtlt :
Ant that continuo.* sweetness, which wlth.en`si
'•eases all around it, front the wish to picnic.'
'he had none of those sickly sentithental akrsso
vnmonly -affected by languishing belles. ller
was honest, her affections sincere, and her
had ever a healthful" tone.
'n I the casket was worthy Rocit a gem. She
rattier urger the medium eize, but delicately
med and as'grareful as a young fawn. liar dark
xn hair hung it natural ringlets upon a neck.--
of er.nw, but of pure healthy fleshy white—
'- eyes were deep:blire—as if of heaven's own
'"" , •.ig: her nose acquiline, with a thiri curving'
that might have been thought 'lc indicate
r.teur, but for the modest sweetnetel of the bean
%.ly rounded cheek*, whose oullints melted away
— 0 the full r.'eck with a graceful . bend no pander's
could have perfectly copied. But her mouth
'lie crowning beauty of her fair face. Mem
', .o searching for a tribute to express it, seggests
following line*, which must have been written .
exit, just such lips as those of , my heroine—
. 11, hp, were red and one was tine—
r.,,Varrd ornh that was next her chin,
Sum, tree had stung rt newt)"
'tad to all this, a demeanor which seemed total
' w'opscious of *elf, and you have Efate Sergeant
her nineteenth year. She would have been a
'il•• but for the comparatively retired life , which
r'le led, and the disinclination which she had al
.`"}l felt to joiii large mitred assemblies. She
'nix loved the cheerful social circle than the daz
batenom, and' the 'erring gaze of tried
,..erlde, than the rude stare of admiring gallards. -
1 the rose was not
—" born to lausb !mitten'
Avg waste na sweetness on the desert •tr "
nerd Gorton had found it tints in full bloom
THE .. BRADFORD - REP I RTEIt,
and had fallen in love al first sight. It was impod-
Bible, after being an hoar in her company, to mis
take her for any common-place flower i and as
Ned Burton (as we alWays called b?m,) was a
young,merchant engagad in a Vowing business,
his only doubt was as to his success in winning
But be need not have entertained a doubt. Al
thoogh he was not what is commonly called hand
some,he had a pleasing countenance, a manly form
and a finely cultivated mind; and his love for the
lair flower was straight forward amisincere. What
more could be required to success in winning an
unoccupied heart.
Nearer and closer did this intimacy become and
the bonds were multiplying about them. Each
saw in each new and delicate traits of character
constantly developing as heart opened to heart, the
'mothei saw and approved, even that mighty bug
bear, public opinion, was content, and .for once
the " courts of true love," seemed to belie the
proverb.
A short hour before we introduce bet to the read
er—happy in a multitude of pleasant memories, l
happy in the W i essed present, and thrice happy in
the sweet promise_ of the future which hope had 1 ,
colored with a fairy hand—she had gone forth in
all her glowing beauty, (and the a!ie was beautiful„'
dear reader; our pen, to say the least,' has' done
her no more than justice,) like a vision of loveli
linens to gladden me faces of a few dear friends,
to whom her presence was ever like a gleam of
sunshine. What has brought her back so sad—nay
more than sad—so thoroughly wretched as we saw
het:just now, when she leaned so wearily against
her mother's sympathizing heart?. Alas! her
bright dreams for the luture—those angel hopes
that made her countenance so radiant—had all
been crushed and swept ea ay. The joys which
the present had multiplied around her, were sud
denly tasteless, And eren! the past, which she
once thought nothing could blot out or change now
brought its haunting memories, only to embitter
, the cruel thoughts of the present. How quickly
may 2 single cloud darken the brightest day !
And all this anguish had been caoseil by a few
short .words she had heard while calling on the
Partent. Mr. Patter was a conveyancer, and a
gentleman of his 'acquaintance had called upon
him that morning to draw up a marriage settlement
for his" slaughter. In the course of the conversa
tion, the gentleman said,
" Fry the' way ovr young 'friend Ned Burton is
abmlt taking e partner."
4 ' %bat, a business partner ?" asked Mr. Parker.
His friend who understood the difference between
a business partner " and a " partner in business,"
repaq,
" No, a special partner:" •
" Money r , asked the conveyancer in his sen•
tfinititis way.
" Yes, a cool twenty thoitsand." ,
I wish him joy, I am sure," said Parker who
knew the young man slightly, "the money will be
quite a help to him."
" Yes, Mid' the connexion will help him diiT
more thin the money."
" It is a good family then ?"
" Yes, old Joshua Baker, you know there is none
better in the city."
The gentleman soon after look his leave, and
Mr Parker, on joining his family related the cir
cumstances to them. Our skeet Rose coming in
an houi later, found thedaughter, Miss Matilda Par;
ker, akine, who without knowing the full *eight
01 intetiest it would have to her visitor immediate.
ly be, upon the news.
i• You know Edward Barton, do you not?" The
last clause was emphasized half maliciously.
ii Welt ate is going to marry a daughter ot• Josh
ua Raker "
" Ind t,Milaid Rose, while het lace Wore an
expression of inctedulity—" and how did you hear
it."
" Papa told me this morning."
1 ' I think there must be some mistake about about it,"
said Rose more slowly while her lip quivered and
a strange moisture dimmed the azure of her eye.
There can't be any mistake," replied Matilda
who was very positive in her way, and had con
founded the intelligeno of the morning with that
e'pon which her father's friend hal called. " Fath
er drew up the marriage settlement this morning
•and the briJe is going to have twenty thousand
dollars clowry."
This was too positive and direct for question, and
poor Rose drooped like a flower upon a broken
stem. litiw she got cht of the bratse she could not
tett. There was a &milers in her eye, and a faint.:
Giese in her heart, yet as long as other eyes were
upon her she had tried to hide her emotion. But
now that she vras safely locked its her own room,
she could weep unrestrained, acid question her
own heart, as to the integrity of the image shelled,
cherished there. She had never for one rnortied '
doubteif the honor and shieimity of he who hail
won her guileless heart Could there be, she ask
ed herself, so much baseness under NI fait an ex
terior 1" True he had never declared' his tote, but
had he not shown it a thousand tender ways too
tender to be mistaken? Had she offended him!
Was this a eudJen 'whim' or had he long premedi
tated it 1 These qiiestions only the more perplex
ed.her, and turn which way she would there seem
ed uo ray of light or hope. Now that her sky was
overcast, she had no longer faith in the bright beau.
!dui of earth.
She remembered now that Edward fi n d told her
at th'eir last parting that h e e ocrlcT not he able to
see heragain for two of three days, as he had.rome
business of importance to attend to, bill little did
she think that it cobeerned herself so nearly.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY,. AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD .COUNTY, Ply BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
Her mother went- up to her , room net beforedin
ner, and found heir lying upon the bed, her eyes
swollen with weeping and a look of align's& Upon
every feature ; but not even to that wider mother
coald she confess the manse of her sorrow. She
shrank trout acknowledging that she had giden her
heart unasked to molter. What if she had all
tc RECUMDLESI or DVXUNMATI ' ON /11.0 i IMAILTII6"
along mistaken the nature of his affections, and
misinterpreted the offices of friendship, for the
language of love? She had mingled but little with
the world, and (thus she reasoned with her own
heart) how could she tell that he bad shown more
regard for her society than that of a dozen others I
Her intimate friends had seemed to feel assarel' of
their mutual attachment but might not those friends
have supposed that mutual vows had passed be.
tweets them At imp rate she resolved that the
secret should die with her: she would never con
fess that the treasures of her affectiorr had been
best Owed upon one who could treat the gift so light
ly. She would tear his image from the temple,
where she had so sacred enshrined it, though her
heart were broken in the struggle which it cost
her!
Her mother finding that any allusion to the cause
of her grief only added to its poipat.cy, forbore
to distress her by pressing her inquiries until she
should grow more tranquil, and thus she mourned
on in secret. Never had time who had hitherto
given her some precious memory for every rosy
hour he had stolen from her seemed to drive the
heavy moments along so wearily. It was her first
day et severe suffering, and it seemed as if the
night would never come and she lunged to hide
herself in its deepening shadows; and yet when
it come she shuddered at its gloom—fur it settled
on her heart like a heavy pall !
It was about eight o'clock. when the bell rang
at the street door. and Edjard Burton was
shown into the parlor. Her mother was in the
dining room busy - *A her 'sewing and the servant
not knowing that anything Unpleasant had, -occur
red, went directly to Bose and announced
Here was a sad trial for the sweet. At orae time
she had resolved never to see him again, and yet
what excuse could she make for avoiding hiin,
that would not betray her secret. Now upon the
impulse of the moment she resolved to see him,
at least once more, and try if it would not strength
en her heart. She washed her streaming eyes,
that continually overflow ad like a never failing
fountain, and hastily arranging her drmsdescentled
to the parlor, she entered with trembling- steps,
and her countenance Wore an unusual flu.h yet
strange to say he did not perceive it, and he trern
bled even more than herself. His voice trembled
in greeting her—alter which there was silence
for a few minutes during which he kept his eves
steadily fixed upon the carpet. At length he be-
"Miss—Miss Sargent—l have just conclued an
important engagement, end 1,--I—have
call—call
ed--" he stammered on thus far when, taking
advantage of a considerable pause in the sentence
she interrupted him.
rI will save you the trouble, Mr. Radon" said
she, making the utmost exertion to assume an in
different tone, "of making any farther explana
tions. l'have already heard of your engagement,
arid hope—" She *could go no farther, for over
come by her feelings she burst into tears and then
hastily left the room.
Pow Efrirtoe Wes taken by surprise. He had
evidently expected a . dillerent conclusion to his In
terview and he eat for a moment motionless as if
stunn.ed by a sudden' blow.
Rose was hastening to her chamber .when her
mothe' in leaving the dining room encountered her
on the s:airs. The poor girl tried to hide her emu.'
iron by covering her biuntngeheek with her hands,
but the pearly drops would not thus be checked,
mid as her mother drew her gently to her breast
the convulsive hearings of her chest, showed that
hers was no common sorrow.
" My darling Rose," said the mother tenderly,as
she turned back and almost bore the trembling
girl to a seat, " t must insist on your telling me
what it is that distresses you so deeply."
" 0, mother f can't help it," replied the sufferer,
" for Edward is going to marry another and 1 am
se wretched."
" Who told you of this P
" Matilda Parker told me of it this morning and
he has just confessed it to me."
"Stay, my child," said Mrs. Sargent soothing.
ly, " I think there is some mistake here, 1 will see
Mr. Burton myself."
Mrs. Sargent descended to the pally with a has
ty step, arid' a glow of unwonted meaning hie a
fever spot upon her cheek, but she found Mr. Bur
ton as excited as herslf. Rehire she could frame
a question he commenced,.
" For pity's sake, Mrs. Sargent, tell me what is
the matter with Rose. -
" Can you wonder et her exeiternerrt, Bev. Bur
ton', *hen after your frequent visits here you come
in this cruel manner to am:edict with the announce
ment of your own engagement r'
"Why, that is the very thing tiat sarpriSes me,'"
he replied eagerly. "1 have been hesitating to I
avow my attachment to your daughter until my
business was established upon such a permanent
fording as to leave no doubt, of my ability to sop
port her comfortably, in a situatibe suited to her
taste. I have just concluded an engagement with
Mr. - Joshua taker, who, as special partner, is to
advance me a capital of twenty thoosand dollars
which will place my success almost beyond contin
gency. The moment my arrangements were com
pleted, 1 came here to plead my cause with your
daughter when she bad lett me most unaccounta
bly "
" Stop a moment," said Ms. sargent; ' I think
this matter can be explained Rose heard this
morning that yonr engagement was with the daugh
ter, instead of the tattier, and of course fittitight
you had been insincere with her.
4 - I never knew he had a da4lttet," replied
Berton, vehemently; " I have been worshipping
Rose since I first saw her. Y entreat you, my
dear madam," he continued*, more gently,. " lee
me at least see her and tell her how cruelly she
has mistaken me."
" think rut will not find Finse itnplaealde,"
said Airs. Sargent pleasantly, as with a cloaxed
brow she IcA the puler on her ruisnon.
A few minutes after a fair form stole trembling
ly into the room, in which the lover was waiting,
and was soon leaning upon M breast.
Mr. Burton has now tyro partners, one • special
partner. "according to the act of Assembly, kr."
and the other a sharer of his heart aeeonliog to the
divine right of love.
Ter Rcarecrserurr or Lseoa.-- , There is a vast
amount of foolish discussion s end false sentiment,
regard to this subject.. Eveil pursuit of Angus.
try that is honest; and promotive of hem= well-be
ng, is respectable, honored and' dignified. The
chimney sweeper is only vulgar when be sinks be
low and demeans his toil. Let him pursue his
;co* earnestly and steadily, and he is entitled to
as much respectis the telescope maker. The pro
region of labor has no . essential merit in itself, be
yond being more or less productive ; the merit be
longs entirely to the manner of its porsr.it. Labor
with the slave, is neither a pleasure nor a virtue,.
no matter what his occupation, for it is forced Irons
him : before pleasure or virtue can be attached,
labor must be sought or chosen_ Then it has ; val
ue and dignity in proportion to its honesty and the
chancier of its products.
Some pride themselves upon living above, and
independent of -tabor, scorning all its pursuits as
low and ignoble. Such are drones who eat what
they do not earn, and it is sufficient punishment
for them that they can see nothing in their desire
or destiny, but an utter antipode to the generally
revealed character of God and mew. Others pride
themselves upon the exclusiveness or aristocracy
of a profession, as though honor or dignity came to
laborfrom iselation instead of usefulness. These
would call labor honorable in proportion as they
could handle it without soiling their gloves. It is
hard to say which of the two is the most vulgar—
he who decries and - scorns all labor that is soiling
—all common every Jay toil—or he who values la
biv only as begrimmed with dirt, and turns np his
nose at the mart who works with hands or face
cleaner than his own. Both are immensely vulgar,
and both will have to learn much before they truly
understand matters.
CHICE.GI SALAP.—The4owls for this purpose
should be young mil fine. You may either boil or
roast them. They must oe quite cold. Having
removed all the akin and fat, and disjointed the
fowls, cut the meal from the ',Ones into very4tmall
pieces, not exceeding an inch. Wash and split
two large fine heads of celery, and cut the white
part into pieces also about an inch long; and hav
ing mixed the chicken and celery together, put
them into a deep china dish, cover it and set . it
away.
It us best not to prepare the dressing till just be
ore the salad is to be eaten, that, it may be as fresh
as possible. Efare ready the ynikt of eight hard
boiled eg,4- a. Put them mare fiat dish, and mash
them to a paste with the back of a wooden spoon.
Add to the egg a small tea-spoorifed of fine salt, the
same quantity of cayniie pepper, half a gill of made
mustard, a gill or a wine glass and a half of vine-
gar, anti rather more than two pine glasses of swee
oil. Max all these ingredients thoroughly ; stirring
them a long time till they are quite smooth.
The dressing should not be put on till a few min
utea before the salad is sent in ; as by laying in i
the chicken and celery will become tough and hard
After you pour it on, mix the whole well together
with a paver fork.
Chicken salad should be accompanied with
plates ofbread and butter, and a plate of crackers.
It is a supper dish,and is brought in with terrapin,
oyalerot, Sze
Cold turkey is excellent prepared as above.
An inferior salad May be made with cold fillet
of veal, instead of chickens.
Cold boiledlobeter in very fine cot up anti dress
in this manner, only substitutina for celery, seance
cut ati and mixed with the lobster.
A Fain RIT.—We commend the following rimy
10 anvil of our cotemporaries as can enjoy a law ;11
at their own ex' ense. It is told by the erlitot of
the to . aion transcript, and is certainty a fair hit at
the (-loth :
We hit'ie travelled some 1500 miles within the
rest leci Jaye by Ishii and by water. The tavern
keeiters;tteamers zlatitaitts, Aar., *r ., have under
milthlialked our hat and indignantly refused to
perndt us to pay our way. l t n sltort, errtin the ra•
ging canavrl, upon the etpansive lake, in the pack
ets, hotels, and floating palaces of Lake Erie, we
have bad a great "free blow," and have uniform
ly been reganled among the " dead heaild." This
you wily regard as very pleasant, and certainty a
very agreeable and advantageous wa ) of travelling.
Bat there in aye" free brew" we receiied, which
came near knocking riot into the rniddlli of next
week. The incident is so rornieal that we will re
late it, lithe joke is at our own expense.
While on board one of the splendid 'steamers
which pfy between Buffalo and Chicago, the fruz
°moor chin grew rather longer than was agiveafire,
am! repaired to a barber's shop on board to
have it taken oft Iflie fellow did it in a first rate
style. Alter he hezt Cofebeil and oiled our bead,
brushed our clothes, Rini slicked ns np fine, *e felt
&stifled, pulled out a dime and proffered it to line
asrt reward for his services. He drew himself up
with considerable promi osity.
" I understand," said he, , L ti at you is an editor r'
" Well! what of it 'I" said *e.
We ceder charge editors titan," 31141 be.
" But my friend," said we; there are a good
ninny editors travelling now a days, and such lib
erality on yonr part will prove a ruinous business''
1( 0h, neber mind " said he, I. we makes it ail
up off the gentlemen 1 . 4 '
We incontinently sloped.
Pust'reas.—Era quads stock in loft/ out the mi.
it:snot htlinauity ; y'et notwithstanding the small
spaet they occupy, 'Like old Time hersoLf, hi their
careless rihlt, tick ; ticking, they record the fortune
and misfortune, the hap and mishap, the gayety
and folly, the nisdoin and-nou.scnse of man.
-
THE FIENUI PEDLAR Pi SAUDI&
A ROMANTIC STORY
Once, in Sardinia, at a village high op iii the
mountains, a pedlar, whom we anerwards met in
Genoa, arrived about Christmas during very severe
weather. A ferft3er, whose daughter was about to
be married, kindly invited him to make somestay
at his house. The pedlar accepted the invitation,
and remained eight or ten days, kept 'a prisoner, as
it were, by the hospitality of his host, and a perpet •
gal sorressMn of snow-storms. He was present at
the wedding, and at the merry making given by
the family in the evening, Where he noticed among
the guests a young:nen of rather handsome appear
ance, who attracted muck attention by the gloomy
fierceness of his mannei.. Imvistrds most persona
he preserved rf sullen rillenee; bat he relaxed with
the pedlar, laughed and talked a great deal, inqair.,
ed what route he meant to take, and how long it
was likely to be before he would be among them
again-
In due time the per qtaitted the farm-hotilm,
and proceeded on his way:" The country just there
was very thinly inhabited, the woods frequent, and,
of considerable extent, and here end there were
caverns of various dimensions. In one of these
the pedlar one snowy night found himself compel
led to take refuge. Re 'had had the precaution to
take some food with him; and, the cold being
piercing. riecollected a quantity of wood ; kindled'
a tire, and sat down to enjoy his supper beside it.
He had not taken many mouthfuls before he ob
served a man enter the cavern covered with snelv r
which he shook horn him as he advanced. There
was an immediate reeognition was. no other'
than the farmer's wedding guest lie accosted the
pedlar. with a strange, constrained eivility—rayirig
he
: w li a .:ue s ri c la o ar ui pes e ,,4: to olc s wo u e7 p, e a r 7 ,:sa l re s i pe paate i h d ae th iFt e :e : saric igh hid t zti W : i i t a l ,t i l h : i . m ouh . l
as uch sell-command as lie conk! assume.
sli I not continue to be so when I have' explained
my errand l''
d , We shall see 7 explain yourself."
" Listen then P'
" I listen ; ,proceed. • But allow me first to offer
you a tittle supper. Ifere, pray tAke a 'slice of Ger
man sausage and a li tae of this wine, which I have
luckily brought along with me. ; Taste it ; it is very
goed."
" No," answered the Sardinian ; I will neither
eat nor drink with you until I find whether it will
be necessary to kill you or not !"
"Kill me?"
~ Yes, you ; inks!' you accede to the firmest tl l
am about to make. Listen! lam in love 'with a
girl whose tether will not give her to me unless 'I
can prove my Belt to be in posses ion of me hun
dred dollars, Now I wish yon to lend me thht
sum, which 1 will faithfully repay *to 3 on: not at
any stated time, observe, for 1 may be unfortunate ,
but I swear to you; here, on this dagger, that I will
repay it sooner or later." And he held up theglit
tering weapon in the light of the flamery ready to
press into his lips should the pedlar accede to hie
1 equeff. . _ .. .
The Frenchman naturally fell exceedingly on
corn Portable ; for from the , savage aitibect of Ina
gwest,
guest, he did not doubt he had reason to dread the
woral
The Sanliniau continued: "Should you be so
foolish as to refuse me, 1" shalt kilt you, take all
your property, marry, and make ase of it. But be.
cause lam an honest man, Ive you in that case
to tell me who is your nearest of kin in France,
since it will be my most earnest endeavor to repay
him the money as soon as Providence shall hare
put it in my
Here he paused, to observe what efleet bis words
had produced on the pedlar, who for some time
was too much terrified to teply.
4 4 Well,' resumed the :pest, ' you are undeci
ded! It is just what I expected ; it is very natural.
However I will stay all night with you. that you
may have reflection ; because I would rather not
kill you if I coukl help it. Still, I flare made np
my mind to be married next week, • and I would
kill fifty pedlars rather than postpone the ceremo
'
Under these circutostances," replied the
Frenchman. 4 . I ;Watt let.d you the money, since I
' have no choice."
" Yon resolve wisely : • j 'ou have no choice.—
Olie observation more, however. I must make, ;ma
then we wtl sit down comfortably to supper. It is
this: when you next come to our village, you will
of comae see me and my Wite, and you will take
tip yoov residence with as in preference to any oth
er persons. Von will say nothing., however, of the
present transactirrn, neither to her of any one rise.
You will not seem afraid of me. as indeed you
need no! be, bat will be merry.ond reckon confi
dently on being repaid the tmin a ith. a !rich you
now accommodate me."
AU this the pedlar psi - mit:se!.
" New," eicfaimed the young man, give me
your hand ; we are friends: Itslaus sit dowi, to sup
per. Afterwards you can reckon me not the mon
ey ; we will keep up a good the. and chat by it all
night ; and in the noohiing we nth separate, each
to pursue 'tis own way ."
In the morning, as they were aliout to .bill each
other adieu, the Sardinian took out his dagger, and
cutting on one of the buttons-lrom his coat, handed ‘ i
it to the Frenchman, sayint, " Take that mid keep
it tilt restore to you your money. Observe, it is
of silver, and has been handed down in my family
for many generations. I would not part with it for
all you possess; and when I intend to repay you
the hundred dollars, this is the course I shall pur
sue: I will say I have last my button, and will of
fer a hundred dollars to any one who shall find and
bring it to me. You *ill present youtself ; you
will produce the button ; and 1, as in honor bound,
will - give the sum agreed on. Do we part friends'!"
The pedlar, who, :notwithstanding his lasi", could
not bat be amused by the strange character' and
ideas oldie Sardinian ; gave him his hand, arid they
patted friends.
Next year be palled the same way amain, and'
ince enough fointd his friend married Co' a Val
pretty woman, who had already. brought him aeon.
Ile• seemed very happy; but coming op to the
Fronehman he said, "Now flibtio legl a bunco':
kaid yefratleentniet to buy one to replace it ;
1 may be more Welty neityear."
•
. The pedlar understood ; and, after haring • beer
made vet t
Wel6ome at his house, went his way.
AS second' and athitd yeat he returned, and every
dine fotlittl a Inning soh or daeghter added to the
family. At length; pleased with his reception;
with the constant tiottpitality shown him, with the
ghasant ? wife and Cheerful, increasing family, be
took the Sardinian aside, and
, preserited him with'
his button—" Allow mist° restore you this article
of youis, which f have found."
"No, no," replied his heal; " keep it . anothet °
year; by that time rt:hpu be.able to redeem it, and
at the same time to spend a very, merry evening
with ye,it. Come shill way next winter and you
shall see., • •
• the months rolled round; the pedlSi, regular as
the season, came again, and the Sardinian invited
him to supper. All the chillen had been sent to
bed, and he and his wife only remained with their
•niest
v., • . . .
" Agatha,". said he to her ; " do - iai) know that it
is your trie,nd here that you are indeVed for a hus
band r _
. .
His wile lborred surprised. - •
" I beg:your pardon, dear Ag,atha," said he, "Mat .
is not what I ought to have said. 'I mean I am in• ,
debted to him for a wife, as it was he who stippli• l - .
ed me with a hundred dollars, without ' which yo • . ,
father wouhl have refused you to toe."„
(-ph, .how heartily f.. thank you l'' exclaimed the •
"tor he is a gruel ! husband and a good fa-
ther."
, .
Mil
"But I robbed hitn,..: said the husband. Ile then
related the whole elicanistance, remarking at the
contusion, " r eutrust my secret to yBa, Agatha,'
, hecirve my honor is as dear to you as my life.--- •
Itere, friend," exclaimed be, placing a little bag.
on the tale, ‘ here are your hundred dollars . ; so
now resiore'ree my button, which you have doubt- ,
lessly kept carefully."
" Yes, here,it is!" exclaimed the Frenchman,
takirig it from his purse ; " and now we arc even,
except that I owe youeituch, , very much, for the
consiant hospitality pu have shown me."
1(1
" Nay," replied the husband, "it i you' that
lam indebted Jur my wile anitchildren; -flu have
been in some sort a father to us, all ; and ierefore,
so long as I have a hotise over my head', praYeau
-1
1 eider it yours " ..
Pedlars are •sometiines generous. Taking dr the
bag of dollars, and turning to the wile, the Freneli. •
man chiff, "..k.lio'vi me, niatlarn,•to present this to
piir yollngest ehrld as n birth-day present. T. am
in a condition to afford it I have much money in
your country, and intend next year to marry, and
retire lo • Provence, my - native land." ' "
The present we accepted ; but the farther, not
to-be ouldene in generosity, forced - on him neat
morning, a' handsome horse of considerahle greater.
1 value.
rhEICIKVM AGAINf.T FORCE.—TI - 4 security of mar
ried women'/ ril,fing in their own pfoirerty ; the
protection of their dower in that of their linsbands;
the exemlption of the homestead and of a liberal
smut:nit : of honsehohl furnitnre , from execution for
debt; all of which' are' repiifly ciiiniiig, whatever
else result, will have the eflect of putting business
on a new basis—Cash and Character. Mean men
will End some way of playing the sneak and ras
cal their as they do now but most likely the force
of opinion will be as erlectriat A't the collection of
debts as that of law. Gambling debts and marriage
fees, in this country-, and physician's fees in Eng
land are paid punctually, becanite they are debts of
honor. Collecting money by rigorous legal meas
ures Irv; been called " grThtling, the face of the
poor;" publishing the insolveficy and unputictit- .
ality oldebtors tinder the neW system will "be
putting, them ont of courtenanee." The thing is
eni n g to be tried. and it is wiiigh the experiment,
for it, is raisin; a higher standard. 01 reTonsibility iu
littAtiess relation 4; and will doubtless, do •as much
good as society is - capable of getting out of it. - If
there is any good in human nature it is to be ex
eected that pet:soil?! honor will keep.pace with-per
sonal liberty. All - these things 'are caicutated to
give dignity to the man, which is
. surely the* best
way of regulittir4 all qiieo , tions of property.
trrnocas7.ll a AKT OF PitiNTlitr. FROM
Srosia.-=Th q• ptocess Lithographiag is Based up
on the fact Piloting tok, being tamely Mayne
-
ell of oil, wilt wit adhere to almy stisfite trisich is wit
weds u;aterr.' Every one knows how utterly impos
sible it is to mia oil and water. To Lithograph.
then, all that is necessary. is to draw on the surface
al a ilty feats sit - stone. with a greasy crayon. %ilia:-
ever is desired to be printed. A weak solution of
nitric acid is then rubbed over the stone, which fas
tens the drawing so that it canno...be rubtied oft.—
After this asolmion at gum arubic is passed over the
surface, and itIMI the stone is ready for printing.—
By means of a sponge, water is now rubbed on the
stonei and while yet wet the inking roller is appli
ed. The ink of course . adheres to - the lines of the
drawing ; because they are oily, but to the wetetone
it dyes not siick. The parer is nots laid on, and
I Avail the stone passed through the press; the result
I being a beautiful and exact capy of whatever is
drawn. •
The stone employed for lithography isof a pecu
liar kind of lime and clay nature, resembling, in ap
pearance a smooth yellow hOne, yet possessing
the quality of alrorbing water. It is found chiefly
in Bavaria, though there are quarries of it in Eng
land. The Bavanan stones, -however, are those
moat universally employed, and their importatiim
isa ermeiderable object iu commerce., They are
worth in New York from 5 to 10 cents per pound.
—N. Y. Sint.
It is.but fourteen year~ dince idilruatis werejust
used die public tholouzlilares. .
. ..r-.a_..ye.- .¢W
ZinaMlL 4162