7azdulm zn.o
T WAN D A :
eaturban Morning, 3nue IL 1854.
selettell thetrg.
BORING.
Once more the cuckoo's call I hear,
I know, in many it glen profound,
The earliest violets of the year •
Rise up like water from the ground.
The thorn, I know, once more is white ;
And far down many a forest dale,
The anemones in tinbions light
Are trembling liko a bridal veil.
By streams released that singing flow
From craggy shelf tkeough sylvan glades,
The pale narcissus, well I know,
kimiles hour by hour on greener shades.
The honeyed cowslip tuna once more
The golden elopes; with gradual ray
The primrose stars the rock, and o'er
The wood—path strews its milky way.
From ruined huts end holes come forth,
Old men, and look upon the sky !
The Power Divine la on the earth;—
Give thanks to God before ye - die !
And ye, oh children, worn and weak,
Who care no more with flowers to play,
Lean on the grass your cold thin cheek,
And those slight hands, and whispering, say,
Stern mother of a race unblest—
In promise kindly, cold in deed;
Take back, oh Earth, into thy breast,
The children whom thou wilt not feed."
GOD'S WATCHFUL CARE
The ivert, that with puny wing
Just shoots along one s summer ray,
The floweret which the breath of spring
Wakes tato life, for half a day,
. The sioaned( mole, the tenderest hare,
All feels a heavenly Father's care.
ren from the glories of his throne
He bends to view this earthly ball ;
Sees all as if that all were one,
Loves one as if that one were all;
Rolls the swift planets in their splietes,
And counts the sinner's lonely tears.
Jitittitl) Calf.
From Peterson's Magazine for'May
LOVE AT FIFTEEN & TWENTY.
BT CLARA NORETON
La rle eat un sommeil, l'atnonr en eat le sere.'
There was never a lovelier girl than my old
ichookmaie Emma Thornton. Our teachers could
not disguise their partiality to , her, but even that
LuiOut cause of disturbance did not excite my jeal
ousy in this mime, for every scholar in school
loved Emma. ller lather was so wrapped up in
her, that it never enteted his head to marry again,
although Emma'a 11101 had died when she
was but a child ; and yet, ' tied and caressed
as she was by every one, she was not in the least
•
4 • Fred Stanley, a wild, frollicking young Sopho.
;:vlore, the very opposite of our gentle Emma, was
her teacher in one more study than her father bad
le 'plated for, when he placed her under the care
of the Misses Gibbs, whose boarding school was
ILI dangerous proximity to the college ground;
2 -1 Bat then. the school was said to be under more
discipline . than any one in the city, and for
::ghat reason nicknamed "The Nunnery" by theca-
MEI
°
o closely were the young ladies watched, that
trader brdinary circumstances no danger could have
Seen apprehended; but Field, who had a sister at
'a same school, had caught such glimpses at Em•
nt's lair young face, as to play the very mischief
wi;h his susceptible heart, and he was al his .wits
end•to devise some stratagem, wherebf a more
nirstactory acquaintance could be effected.
bliss Lucinda Gibbs, whose love for the science
of botany, caused her to keep an herbarium, was
a: length, through'tbis same fondness, the uncurl-
Klaus means of bringing about the desired result .
: 1' Fred made himself so useful in collecting and Olaf.
~ 3 4 s ifying her specimens for her, that she gradually
:Agrew to depend upon him for every other little form
- or attention that she might require. With the
greatest alacrity he accompanied Mise Lucinda and
her train of boarders to the evening prayer meet
ing, satisfied if he could obtain a seat where he
could see and worship his idol,'ovhile the test, it
vas to be hoped,, were engage l d in unit proper
cevo lons
Emmi needed not the help of Ellen Stanley to
tr,form her of the state of her brother's heart, for she
could read it in his eyes without any assistance.—
%) was her first admirer, and she was sufficiently
!cling arid romantic to suffer herself to become in
termed, before she had the laird knot edge oldie
,cal ties of his mind and heart:
At length, Stanley was so privileged as to be al
lowed to accompany the school in their Saturday
idtelnoo n rambles into the country, and ilkfP the
girls separated one from another, flitting here and
,there through woodland walks and shaded roes
-4,-"r° ma- , y ar El orious were the opportunities
which lie had for raking love, and right earnestly
did he set about it. Utilise Lucinda came sudden
ly upon t hem, nothing was aloha than to appear
completely absorbed in an explanation of the vart
-00 Pam of the wild flower thit he held in his
b and- He was never without One ; and Miss Lu•
coeds considered him such a devoieelto her favorite
Acionce, that She IletST even mistrusted the least
partiality toward any of til e h umse fl owers s h e h a d
m chaige.
Oh, those were halcyon days to Fred and Emma.
Those stolen glances, those whispered' interviews,
the thrilling clasp of the quickly withdrawn hands,
and once—shall I tell it?—the long kiss in the
1, 114111g5. of that•dark Icireat thaLakirted East Rock,
•?pon whose boldeummit the entire school had pass
e, eJch a delightful day.
."
R .
.•
„
•
•
....„
•
Thus, the mischief was accomplished, and there
after Emma made Wonderful progress in , her new,
study, to the utter exclusion of all her old ones...-.
Her teachers wonderid that she should have so flag
ged. They noted her absent moods,. the dreemy
expression of her soft blue eyes, and fearing lest
she might be pining for her father, they proposed
to her a short visit home before the expiration of
the session.
Of course, Emma would not listen to it, and so
the weeks glided on until vacation came; and then
with many promisee of eternal love and constancy,
Fred and Emma parted'. The gentle girl tbo had
left her father's home, a child in thoUght and feel
lag, returned to it with the heart of a winnan throb
bing-in her bosom.
About a week after Emma's return, Mr. Thorn
ton was-siring in his library reading the morning
papers. Emma, with an open fetter in her band,
entered the room, and drawing a low stool to her
lather's feet, sat down upon it. She had never bad
any secrets from her father, and she was not going
to begin it now.
" Well, Emma," said Mr. Thornton, laying aside
his paper, "what does my little girl want this morn
ing
For a wonder out amiable Emma was ball in
clined to pout, jest at that particular moment,being
called a " little girl" did not exactly suit her. She
summoned all her dignity to her aid, and answer
ed, " i have something that I wish to tell you, pa
pa, if you are disengaged and can listen to me this
morning."
Certainly I can—what is it child I No quarrel
with your schoolmates, I hope, that you look so se.
rious ?"
" No, , no—nothing of the kind. is a secret that
know I ought not to keep from you papa. You
see, althouth you will call me a little girl, 1 am not
such t very little one. At least somebody does not
think so."
"Somebody! who the deuce is somebody ?—your
roommate, I suppose."
" Oh, - no - ; . lnit tbete's no ono in making a mybte•
ry of the matter. lam engaged, papa."
" Engaged ! what does the girl mean ? Why, Ern
ina, bland up and let me look at you. Engaged !
shoot the rascal that dared to make love to such
a child as von'are."
"Oh, no, papa; you'll do no)such thing. When
you - see him, you can't help.l ving him, he has
such a brave, noble face—he is so very—
" Aye-e•e," interrupted Mr Thornton, "can't I
help it? It will be balder work to keep my hands
off trom him. Confound him ! A very interesting
young man, I have no doubt—at least a very in
terested one. He does not know, I suppose, that
yoti will have a fortune at my death—oh, no, no
thing of the kind. I tell you what, Emma-1 take
too much pride in you, to let you throw yourself
away on one of those college scape graces, as I
doubt not he is, for no man of sense would fall in
love with a girl.just entering her teens."
"1 have been in them over three years," said
Emma.
" Oh, well, three years are nothing. When you
are twenty, then we will talk about your being
engaged. Here, give me that letter, I will an•
swer it for you; and it after that, the scoundrel
dares to make another attempt to areal my treasure,
VII send you to a nunnery—l wi3ias sure as I am
your father." •
Emma had never seen her father so decided be.
lore. She respected him too much, and loved him
too well to offer any resistance; so she gave up
her precious letter, and went to her chamber to
weep over her blighted hopes. Never did lovelorn
damsel draw more touching pictures of a desolate
future.
The same hour Mr. Thornton wrote, despatch.
ing his letter to the address Frederick had given
Emma, and destroyed the one Emma had re.
ceited. . ,
There came no answer. Not thus easily had
Emma expected to have been yielded up; but she
convinced herself that Stanley's pride had preven
ted him from renewing his addresses, and she re
solved that she would be as strong and Oncumplain
ing as he.
Emma Thornton returned no more to boarding
school. Her father provided her with masters, and
kept her under his own survillance. At eighteen she
made her first appearance in gay society. Hex
needing beauty would have renderedher sufficient
ly attractive; but added to that, she possessed a
well cultivated and brilliant mind, and the greatePt
refinement and grace of manner. Wherever she
went all hearts paid her homage, but Emma turn:
ed coldly away from her suitors. Her father was
in despair when he found her refusing so many
eligible offers, for he began to feel the necessity
of her having some younger protector thin him
self; but all his reasoning and expostulating avail
ed naught.,
There came a time, however, when Emma was
no longer so careless and indifferent. A young
lawyer of acknowledged talent, and/ one already
occupying a prominent place in aodiety, was the
first admirer in whom Emma took the least inter
est since the dap of her girlish :ove r . At the step
of Carlton Howard her poise learned to beat more
quickly, and she could scarce subdue the traces of
emotion which his deep, rich tones never failed to
call forth. Still, she so well disguisedher feelings
hat he gleaned no encouragement froal her man
ner ; and knowing her reputed coldness, he fel
ludo hope-that his suit Would ever prove success
ful. Yet he persevered in his attentions, deteratin
ed if it were possible to win some portion of the
love be so coveted. .
Emma telt flattered that one of his superior at
tainments should so evidently find pleasure in he
society. 'She acknowledged that his conversation
id powers were more brilliant, his acquirements
more varied and extensive, his manners more poi.
ished than those of any Other person that she bad
ever met with. tier lathei had asked her What
more she could desire. _ She bad made no mimic! j
but the dream like memory of her iirstdove Coated
ME
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD "COUNTY, - .I"A., ,BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
into vie went away by herself lb
airmail in solitude as elle had often done.
Weeks passed; and ket reserve and coldness
gmdtialltgay.e_Way,tei amore cordial manner-. At
length Hoyiardiathered confidence to breathe his
tale of love. More worthy of 'ado - illation tharraver
did he seem to Emma at that time. His darlegrey
eye, always singularly eipressive, now revealed
their depths of tenderness, while his earnest words
told of a heart strong in its devotion.
Emma, as she listened, felt her own heart beat
and throb, as never bad it throbbed but once be-
fore. lid paused once, twice she essayed to an
swer, but the 'words died on her lips.
Again Mr. Howard spoke. " I have pained you,
Miss Thornton," be said, " by my abrupt avowal
this morning; but you will give me one word of
hope, will you nor'! If you cannot return my love,
say at least that I have your esteem, and not one
effort on my part shall be wanting to become more
deserving of an increased regard."
"I do esteem you, Mr. Howard. I can truly say
that lfeel more interest in you than I have ever
felt save for one. Had I never met—that is, had
I—." Emma paused. Her cheeks were pain-
fully suffused. Every word that she attempted to
say increased her embarrassment. This gave Carl-
ton Howard the advantage, and calmly with gentle
words he tried to re•aasure the blushing girl. He
was so successful that little by little her confidence
was entirely given to him, and Howard felt more
than ever encouraged when he found that it was
only the memory of a love at fifteen that he had,to
do battle with.
Two weeks afterwards Emma was a second time
betrothed, but it was with the full understanding
that her lover should never quarrel with memory
of that first love.
There was never a more beautiful bride Ihan
Emma Howard—never a happier husband than
Carlton, or alather better pleased with a daughter's
choice than was Mr. Thornton.
Every one agreed that for once the course of true
love had run wonderfully smooth.
16 your ti..ised away, and Howard found that he
was quite right in conside - rnig-Ernrn... , t ,_
mein as a mere girlish tancy. Although when he
noted a shade of unusual seriousness übon her brow,
he would jest her about the privileged memory, he
was long ago convinced that the deeper waters of
her heart had been moved only for him.
And yet it must be confessed that Emma ire•
quently recurred to the romantic attachment of her
school girl drys—not with the yearning tenderness
that she once had felt, but with a desire to know
something of Stanley's after life—a wish that she
might find that his late had been as happy as her
own; confessing to her husband the relief that it
would be to know that he had not died of a broken
heart.
One lovely spring afternoon, just on the verge of
evening, Carlton Howard and his wife were sitting
by en open window in their cool and pleasant li
brary, when a servant entered with a card, which
he handed to Miss Howard She glanced at the
name—it had been years since she bad seen that
handwriting—and the color came to her cheeks as
she read aloud, "Frederick Stanley"—then flitted
back as rapidly until they were as pale as the white
flowers of the vine that clung for support to the trellis
about the window.
4, What shall I do, Carlton ? what shall I do I"
she said, hastily.
"Go down to him, love," he answered. "My
own wife is not afraid that she will lose her heart
again. I know too well how much it is my own to
have any fears myself."
Emma stooped down, resting one snowy hand
amidst the masses of raven hair which was swept
back from his broad white forehead, and kissing
him tenderly, said, "Your exceeding love, Carlton,
gives me confidence in myself, but you will certain
ly come with me."
" No, Emma, I would rather not—it would be
more awkward for you—no, go down, love," he
continued, pushing her gently from him; but mark
ing the tears in her eyes, he added, 64 if you so
desire it, I will follow you presently." .
Emma's heart beat painfully as she descended
the staircase, and she stood for a moment beside
the parlor door to reasserts herself. It was in vain
—her agitation momentarily increased. At length,
summoning all her courage, she entered.
The servant had lighted the gas, and from the
porcelain shade the softened light fell upon a
figure very unlike the one in Emm's imagine
s,
tion.
Burly as a—beer barrel I had almost said—the
comparison seemed so apt in more respects than
one—was the Mr. Stanley before her.
With a coarse laugh, he arose from his seat.—
"Shouldn't have known YOU : 'pon honor, Miss
Thorton—Mrs. Howard, I mean—he, be, that
seems odd too. How yuu have changed; but then
I have altered some, haven't I 1"
"Very much, I should think," answered Emma,
in a freezing tone.
All the fluttering about her head had vanished,
but there was a mighty revolution going on
there'nevertheless—the enshrined ideal was cram•
bling into dust.
" You haven't forgotten how I used to look, have
yowl Why, I often think about the ourlyheaded
girl that liked to cry her eyes out when we parted
—it'll never be as hard part again, I warrant," and
Mr. Stanley laughed merrily at the (to him)
pleasing reminiscence.
"Is this your first visit to the city lwinquired
Emma, in hopes of changing the current of his
thoughts.
"No. I was bare sin years ago with my wile ;
but you see she wouldri't listen to my looking you
up; so as jt was our wedding trip I gave up to her,
but yesterday Lame on from New York to attend
the races, and baying nothing to do this afternoon I
concluded to hunt you out. I always harejelt a
kind ofeuriosily to eee you again, for although' I
have Wen in love a dozen times since, I couldn't
forget you entirely. I expeet if the di nun hadn't
interfered you'd hue beeitire: Stinle)-Uite,
its' very funny the way things turn twin this world,
isn't it!"
, .
Emma's face. crimson. She now hoped from
her bean that her husband would remain in the
library, for IA presence would only increase ter
mortificatiuri. But it was , not long before she heard
his step upon the stairs, and very awkwardly when
he entered did theinttoduce them, t
" You must not let me interrupt your reminiscen
ces,'? said Mr Howard, as he drew his chair into
the centre of the room, "as you were old school
mates, I presume you have many very' pleasing
ones."
" Ah, we were something more than old school.
mates," replied Mr. Stantley, laughing. " Did
your wife never tell you how near we, came mak •
inia match? ha, ha—' a miss is as good as a mile,"
however, and 1 expect we are both about as well
suited—eh, Mrs. howard 7"
Mr. Howard cast a mischievous glance at his
wife, and seeing how painfully embarrassed ehe
appeared he answered for her.
"I, at least, Mr Stanley," he said, "am much re
joiced that the match was broken; for I expect I
should stilkihave been a wandering bachelor had
not found the realization of my dreams in Miss
Thornton."
The spirit of mischief was strong in Mr. Howard,
and he felt disposed to draw Mr. Stantley still fur
ther out upon the subject,but catching an appealing
glance from his wife, be adroitly introduced anoth
er topic of conversation. •
Mrs. Howard began to breathe more freely when
she saw how deeply interested Mr Stantley became
in giving a minute description of the racerond die.
cussing the merits of the different horses and their
riders; but he interspersed his conversation with so
many slang-phrases, that Mrs. Howard, more than
ever disgusted, made some trifling excuse and left
the room.
It was full an hour atterward when her hu \ sband
entered the library where she was seated, and,
throwing himself upon a lounge, laughed until tears
stood in hie merry eyes.
Emma was of course too thoroughly vexed to
join iilllis raltgbter t aAd sbe sllovied her irritation
by turning her shoulder a trifle more toward him
Mr. Howard tried several times to speak, but his
hearty laughter drowned his words.
He at length succeeded in saying, " Don't turn
from me so, Emma darling." Here was another
laugh which made Mrs. Howard turn her back
completely around.
Indeed, I cannot help it ; you mast escape me,
Emma." he found breath to say at last.
Still his mirthfulness was in no way checked,
even when she arose and swept indignantly from
the room : but as soon as he was able to compose
his countenance he followed her.
"Come, Emma—l don't want to hurt your feel
ings, my dear, but you must let me enjoy—"
" Iffy more uation," said his wife, interrupting
him—teari standing in her eyes.
" No, by no meant,. You put a wrong construe.
tion upon my merriment. Come, dear wife—collie
back to the library with me. You have yet to hear
the beet part of the joke."
Ile encircled her waist with his arms as he spoke.
She could not resist the tenderhess, and she suffer.
ed herself to be led back to the room she had so
petulantly deserted.
As she resumed her seal, she strove hard to con•
quer her feelings, but the tears of vexation would
creep op into the corners of her eyes; and she
found it impossible to disguise the annoyance that
she felt at her husband's- mischievous glances.
" It we want to be very gond friends, Carlton,"
she said, at length, " and live as happy as we have
done heretofore, there must be no allusion after to-
night to this provoking occurrence. Promise me,
now ; that you will not tell father."
" You are too liard upon me, Emma—indeed you
are. He would enjoy it capitally; and why' need
-you care I—you have done nothing for which you
are to blame."
" But think how vexatious."
"I do believe, Emma, that you are chagrined,
because he consoled himself so speedily for your
loss. Let me see, it was one of your anxieties, if
I remember, lest he should die 01 a broken heart."
"Carlton, you are too bad. I really think you
ire unkind to teaze me so," and Mrs. Howard's
telly lips quivered as she rpoke, and ihe tears
1 / oiled down her face, until her husband compas
sionately drew her head down upon his breast, and
by his continued efforts succeeded in making her
look upon the ludicrous occurrence with as much
Merriment nearly as he had done.
He dotalled to her the conversation which had
passed between them after she had lefi the room—
how Mr. Stanley had made him a confidant of his
losses at the races, the consequent depression of
his finances, and his need of a loan, which Mr.
Howard had the more readily advanced, inasmuch
as divining his companion's character, he saw at
a glance that he could thus effectually rid himself
of an acquaintance that might otherwise prove
troublesome.
He was right. Mr. Frederick Stanley was never
after seen nor heard from by any of the 'family.
A Ithongh Emma still (eels a little chagrined when
any allusion is Made to her first love, yet she fails
not to relate her experience to those whom she
thinks it may profit.
WHAT is vsavuxl—A student put this rineation
to the late Dr. Arohibald Alexander. • His simple
sad admirable reply was, « Virtue consists in.do
ing our duly, in the several relations that we sus•
Wish in raspiest to ouraelvesoo our fellowmen, and
to God, a! known from reason, 13012beieliCA and at-
Telation."
Not so sure;lt is related - of an old Presbyterian
minister; down East, that being astonished at the
ontrageonagattertes inscribed on the tombstones of
the village ohnich yard, be- iris heard attitteringas
fib wenfout of thegste:—" Hem jib to - deta; end
here the living Et."
V=
How Friction Matches are Made
The first introductiOn, of friction matches into the
United States was in the year 1836. 'they were,
however, very different from those now incommoe
nse. They were called " inciters," and were a
first used exclusively as cigar lighters. This match
consisted of a preparation of phosphorus, upon a
narrow strip of brown paper, saturated with.saltpe
tre,' and fire was obtained by drawing lt bri.kly
between two pieces of thick sand paper. These
marches did not blaze, but burned slowly like a
fusee. Within a• very short time after, such im
provements were madei as to render them capable
of producing a flame, bat as they were all imported
from Europe, they were . toti expensive for general
use, and the old under-box still held its awn. Yan
ke ingenuity, however, soon est itself to work to
discover how this important improvement - in the
means of obtaining fire could be made of general
service, and it was not long before a shrewd Yan
kee, by the name of Phillips, took out a patent for
the " conibination of chalk and other earthy sub.
stances,. with glutin and phosphorus," in the pie
paretion ol matches, In a very elfin( time, too, the
mechanical skill of the country was taxed to pro•
duce each machinery as should be able to make
an article destined for such universal use as rapidly
and cheaply as possible. This resulted in the in
vention of various machines, all tending to the
same result, and in less than a year after the first
introduction of foreign lucifer matches, a better and
more useful article was in general use throughout
the country, at less than a third of the price at which
the imported matches were sold. The mannfac-
Lure of matches now gives employment to a large
number of persons in almost every city in ,he Uni
ted States, and matches are exported from this
country to the farthermost ends of the earth.
The rapidity with which these useful articles are
made
. is really astonishing, and the machinery
among the most ingenious ever invented. Fey'
who draw a match across some rough surface, and
after obtaining alight, and, forget ,ffnk meElne.... ll l4i
produced it, think that emelt match passes i&nue'
no less than eight different hands before it is fit for
use, or that a box which contains matches passes
through a like number of hands, so that' sixteen
different persons are employed in making up a box
of matches.
The wood used for matches was formerly ob
tained from old ahip spars, but it was found that
the destruction of tools used in cutting it, from con
tact with the number of nails, spikes, &c., which
these spars contained, made the use of this timber
more expeeeive than new lumber, and consequent
ly none but the best clear 3 itch white pine joist is
now used. This is cot into blocks by a circular saw,
each block being twice the breadth of the length of
a match. Thia block is placed in a box, beneath
which is a set of knives which acute the block,
with the grain, the exact thickness of the match,
while another knife passes through it and cuts off
the sticks as they are scored. So rapidly does this
machine work, that no lees than 22 match sticks
are cut by each revolution ; 200 revolutions are
made in a minute, wnich amounts to 4,400 match
sticks a minute, 264,000 au hour, 2,640 ; 000 per
working day of 10 hours, and the immense num
ber of 821,040,000 per year.
The match sticks, as they are cut, fall into a
trough below, rod are then carried into large bins
where they are 14 gathered,'
,as it is called—that is,
they are disentangled from the mass, in which they
are collected, an laceration which is performed by
boys with great rapidity, and laid out in racks,
which ace measured to contain a certain number
They are then tied in round bundles and carried
into another part of the building, where there are
a large number of little children at work, some of
them not more than five years of age. These chil
dren untie the bundles and place, by very quick
manipulations, each match stick in a groove which
keeps it isolated_ in what, is called a "slat; some
dozen of these greyed slats, filled with matches ;
are screwed together and form a "'batch." From
the sides of this batch the ends of the matches pro
truths about an inch. The batches are then carried
by boys to a room where the ends are dipped in a
brimstone vat. This vat is over a hot fire, and it
requires same considerable experience on the part
of the dipper to keep the hot brimstone always of
the same depth, because it the brimstone should
be too Jeep in the vat the stick would receive too
much of it, the fumes of which when the match
should he burned would be extremely disagreeable .
He first dips one side of the match, and then the
other, when it is carried into another room, where
it is again dipped into the phosphorus. This pro
cess is somewhat different. The preparation, which
consists of chalk or Paris White, glue anti other
glutinous substances, mixed with phosphorus, is
kept hot in a kettle, under which enough heat is
kept to keep it based. When the matches are to be
dipped, the preparation of phosphorus is taken from
the kettle and thinly spread over stones which are
kept hot by means of steam pipes. The matches
already diptied in the brimstone aredipped into this
to the depth of about an eighth of an itch, and are
t hen placed in large racks to dry. The quickness
of the drying process depends altogether upon the
atmosphere. If it is damp they will not dry at all,
and the whole building becomes enveloped in a
tin vapor, with an exceedingly unpleasant odor,
which comes from the phosphorus. When the at.
mosphere is not damp they dry in born three to
eight hours sufficiently to admit of their being pack
ed into the boxes. The matches are first taken out
of the grooved r elate" by boys, and placed in a
little tack of the same size as thbse in which they
were originally placed when gathered from the
mass, and taken into anolier.roonx, where a num
of girls stand ,surrounded by thousands of. match
boxes and piles of matches. Zetom each trio is a
knife, which operates perpendicularly, and is used
for cutting the matches In two. The girl Who srande
immediately in front of: this knife,' With a'nicety
that long practice could alone givp her, takes iu bet
hand a bundle of Malaga frOhl the pauk„ ;chick is
rasa
jest sufficient to fill the boxes; this bundle the
places under the knile, which, as she pots her foot
upon the neddle, descends and cuts - the bimeh in
the middle: Each of the severed ends is taken by
the girl on each bide of her, and put into the box,
on which the cover is placed,and the box of match- -
es is then thrown into a receptacle for them, front
which they ere taken to be packed in parcels of a
gross each. The operation of filling the boxes is
performed with great rapidity, and makes one won
der at the flexibill,y , of the, muscle and sinews of
the human hand.
GOOD TIAIPER Is GOLD.—lf people generally
knew what an advantage to them it was to be
cheerful, there would be fewer. sour faces in the
world, and infinitely lees ill temper. A man never
gains anything by exhibiting his annoyance in his
face, much less by bursting into a passion. As it
is neither manly nor wise to yield, like a child,
pettishly at every cross, so it is alike foolish tad
absurd to allow feelings of anger to privets. ot self
control. There never was a man in any controver.
sy, who lost his temper, that did not come near
losing his cause in consequence. II ever a person
plays the gate of his enemies, it is when he is in
a passion. Acquaintances shun men of proverbial
ill-temper; Wanda drop away, horn them ; even
wives and children gradually learn tom tear them
more than to love. Thousands of men ..owe their
wan! of success in life to neglecting thicontrol of
their temper. Nor have they any excuse that it is
an infirmity which cannot be restrained, for Wash
ington, though naturally of a passionate disposition,
disciplined himself until he passed foe a person
utterly impassive. No man who neglects hie tem-
per can be , happy, any more than he can make
those happy around him. Good temper is gold, is
health, is everything. Bad temper is a curse to
the possessor, and to society.
DON '7 BELONG TG YOUR Socirrv.—ln a certain
country town in which religious differences were
not a&fosttreti,,the _ orthodox miritsiot- was -ontb
presented with a raven which had' been taught
to talk, or at any rate pronounced certain words
with much distinctness. For some time after its
recep ion, the worthy clergyman was ignorant of
the extent of the bird's accomplishments, and espe
cially an of the fact that some words pronounced by
it were decidedly unclerical and profane. At
length an old lady, a notorious disputant, belong
ing to another society, chanced to pay a visit to
the clergyman's wife. The raven perched' him
self upon the back of a chair, eyed her steadily for
a long time, and at length cocking his head aside
very gravely, and peering close in her face, shouted
aloud—to the horror of both ladies and others assem
bled, " D—n ye! d—n ye lu
The old lady rose in high dudgeon i end facing
her denouheer, as the turned to depurt--retor!ea
in a loud voice, and with a very red fuce-- ,, don't
you d—n me! you good for nothing orthodox creet
er, I don't belonskto your society."
CJOD ADV ICE.—Be industr.ious and economical.
Was:e neither time nor motley in small and uselem
pleasures and indulgences. If the young can be
induced to save, the moment they enter upon the
paths of lite, the way will ever become easier be
fore them, and they will not-fail to obtain a corn •
petency, and without denying themselves any of
the real necessities and comforts of life.
To industry and economy add setf.rehance. Do
not take too much advice. '4ha- business man
must keep at the helm and steer his own whip. In
early life, every one should be taught to think for
himself. A man's talents are never brought out un•
til he is thrown to some extent upon his own re
sources. lf, in any difficulty, he has only to run to
his principal, and then implicitly obey the direo•
Lions he may receive, he will never acquire that
aptitude of perception necessary to those who hold
important stations. A certain degree of independ
ent feeling is essential to the development of the
intellectual and moral character.
Anti to the minutia of the business, small
things as well as great. See that your place of
btsiness is opened early, and everything goirg an
betimes
Ammo AN INPOSSIBILITY.-4I is said that a sub
ject of ilia King of Prussia, a talented meohanic
t eing about to emigrate, was arrested and brought
before his majesty. t , Well, my good friend," said
the King, " how can we persuade you to remain
in Prussia V' "Must gracioussire, only by making,
Prussia what America • is."- lie was allowed to
em igrato.
AN Asscormitio Jcavarszi.-1 remember," says
Lord Biden, r• Mr Justice Gould, trying a case at
YGrk, and when he had proceeded for about two
hours, he observed. " Here are, only eleven jury
men in the bax, where is the twelfth!" "Pleaeo
you, my lord," said ono of the eleven, "he , has
gone away about some other business, bu 4 he has
left his ordia with mc."
A Tan Asswrrt.—A college student being_q*•
amined in Locke, where, he speaks of our rialatimis
to the Deity, was asked, Whatrelstion do we most
neglect?" He answered much nateete, 4 f A poor re•
/shoo, sir."
.^
CANDID.—A man who adrurti,sea for a competent
person to undertake :he eats 4)1 a new medicine
adds that tt wilt he found profitable to the " ruder•
takur "
WomaN'a Flinires.—A good looking limbaad ,
eight cnildten, and a happy home. A. thew , Nib le
ate aa.lly oigattiad we_ hive the ;az et hood will
take them intitoonaidetatlop. Tins to bettor than
holding °Sias, 'cigt ailing on
.8
GRANGE yox AIOCt TtiaT4S3ol4.-.411 editor In
a H a mpshire offered to put bid head against aspen
epomsorne political question. k brother editor
accepta the bet, says he thinlpt it an even one, end
ails who tht.l, held the stakes.
E 2
fts .