ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. T () \V A N I) A : gatnrimn fllorninn, December jetlttfeb THE EVENING HEARTHSTONE. Gladly now we gather round it, For the toiling day is done, And the gray and solemn twilight, Follows down the golden sun ; Shadows lengthen on (he pavement, Stalk like giants through the gloom, Wander past the dusky casement, Creep around the fire lit room, Draw the curtains ! —close the shutters ! Place the slippers by the fire! Though the rude wind loudly mutters, What care we for the wind-sprites ire. "What care we for outward seeming! Fickle Fortune's frown or smile, If around us love is beaming, I.ove can human ills beguile! 'Neath the cottage roof and palace, From the peasant to the King, All are quaffing from life's chalice, Bubbles that enchantment bring. Grates are glowing—music flowing From the lips we love the best, Oh, the joy—the bliss—of knowing There are hearts whereon to rest! Hearts that throb with eager gladness— Hearts that echo to our own \\ hile from care and haunting sadness Mingle ne'er in look or tone. Care may tread the halls of Daylight— Sadness haunt the midnight hour — But she wierd and witching Twilight Brings ihe glowing Hearthstone dower Altar of our holiest feelings ! Childhood's well remembered shrine, Spirit,yearning—soul-re veal tngs, Wreaths immortal round thee twine j&tlttttb £ah. THE NEW CLOAK: OR. " Mind Your Own Business." "There! 1 declare, it Mrs Burton hasn't got a new cloak !" exclaimed Mrs. \\ a.vwe.l, to her in timate friend, Miss Viney, as ihey came out of church one Sunday. " I see she has," replied Miss Viney, very qui etly. " I know her husband can't afford it; she will be ihe ruin ol htm yet." " 1 suppose they know their own business best At any rate, it is a blessing that you or I are not accountable for her misdeeds," said Miss Viney, who, though what is technically tetmed an "old maid," was not of that class who have been slan derously styled gossips and bu-ybodies. And we have purposely introduced her 10 refute the foul calumny that " old maids" are all meddlers— and we are sure that all spinsters will be gratelul to us for the service " I don't know about thai," returned Mrs Wax well, with a dubious shake of the head ; " Mr. Burton owes my husband three hundred dollars, and I don't believe he ever will get his pay, if things go on in this way. That cloak couldn't have cost less than thirty dollars " I presume (hey could afford it, or they would not have bought it—at any rate they know best." "Mrs. Burton is a vain, conceited, proud wo man, and pride will have a fall one ol these day?.') 1 " I hope not." " I hope she will have a fail; she would drop some of those airs then." ' I never thought she was what might be termed a vain woman." " She is ; she is an impudent minx, and the sooner she is brought down on a level with her circumstances the better lor her and the wo Id " " She has the reputation of being a very kind hearted woman, and an excellent neighbor." " I don't care if she ha; she likes to " lord ' t' through the village and lor one I won't be ruleJ by her." " Really. I don't understand you; she is as ami able and humble as any one need be." "Amiable and humble, indeed! What did she buy that new cloak for, except to excite (he envy ol half the town, and make them think she is some body." " I hope there is no one so silly as to envy her, ' said Miss Viney cast a significant glance full into the lace ol her companion. " I don't lor one; but I should like to teach Iter that she is no better than ihe rest of the world " " She don't profess to be, she visiia the neigh borhood, and I'm sure there's no better person in sickness than she is." " All that may be." " When you had the erysipelas, you remember she watched when no one else would." " I know it; but is one to beiyranized over for ever, because she watched a few nights with me V " How strange you talk." "Do I ? Didn't she buv that cloak on purpose to cat a figure through the town, and make every body If el cheap ?" '• N'o, lam sure she did not; she had no such motive," replied Miss Viney, smartly. " 1 don't believe it, there!" •' She is not such a woman as that!" " Yes she is just such a woman as that!" "I have seen no one but you who feels bad about it." "But me! La sake! I wouldn't have jrou think I feel bad about it. She can wear what she's a mini to, for all me; only I hope she can afford it that s all." " I think she can ; she has the reputation of be ing a very careful woman." " I don't care ; but I feel it my duty to warn my husband to look about his debt. When things get to be JO awtul extravagant/here's no knowing what may happen." " Mr. Burton is doing a very good business, peo ple say." THE BRADFORD REPORTER " No body knows anything about what he is doing. All I know is, that when Squire Smith sold him two cords of waod last week, and carried in his bill, he couldn't pay it. He actually put the Squire off till next week. That looks as though they could afford thirty dollar cloaks, don't it ?" With these sage reflections, Mrs. Waxwell turn ed down the lane that led to her house, leaving Miss Viney to pursue her way and ponder upon the extravagance of some folks. Mrs. Waxwell loved fine clothes quite as much as any other woman of the nineteenth century, and this is saying a great deal. But ttien her hu-band was parsimonious, and though she loved " nice things," very much, she laved money more— which, we take it, amounts to nothing more or less than meanness. Mr. Waxwell was a farmer and well ofl in the world. The advent ol the railroad in his native town had lurrteJ things topsy-turvy in general, and the heads of the women in particular—to use Mr. | Waxwell's classical language. Time was when they were content to wear a straw bonnet and a calico gown to meeting ; but now they had to rig out in silks and 6atins, with flounces and furbelows and all sorts of rigging attached to them, for all the world just like a clown in a circus. Such were Mr Waxwell's views of the social influence ol the railroad. Society began to be a little "select;" lolks put on airs, and were so stuck up that you couldn't touch them wttha ten foot pole. Farmer Waxwell did not much like this state of things—it cost money on one hand, anil he did not like to be thrown into the shade on the other. He was about the richest man in the place; but ten dollar bonnets and thirty dollar cloaks were abom inations that he could not toletate. Mrs. Waxwell didn't like to be out done in the matter of dress, and when she bought a new merino cloak the pre vious season, she had not a doubt but it would be unsurpassed lor two seasons, at least. When Mrs Burton came out with the thiity dollar velvet, she found the wind was taken out of her sail, and she was as indignant as the case demanded. In the rise and progress of the village since the advent of the railroad, two new stores had gone in to operation, one of which was conducted by Mr. Burton, an enterprising young matt from the me tropolis, who had brought a city wife and a great many city notions into the place with him. As with a great many who go from the city to the country, he was exceedingly annoyed by that disinterestingcharitable attention to other people's business, which so extensively prevails in many rural districts. He kept his affairs to himself and this bothered and perplexed gossip* His wile had away of attending to tier own concerns—she hail been brought up where people do not even know 'heir next door neighbor. Hshe wanted a new dress or a new bonnet, she n-ver deemed it npces ary to consult the neighbors in regard to her abili !y to aflord it. or about the style and material Poor Mrs Waxwell! her star blian harp, but the under swell it created, disturbed the equi librium of two immense chain anchors, which with some heavy guns, had been stowed in Ihe open ports, and on account of the calm weather, had not been secured by fastenings This pon derous mass started from its balance by the motion ofthesea, and with lightning speed, rolled to the opposite side ol the ship, and in an instant threw the Royal George upon her side. One heart-pierc ing cry of woe from a thousand voices—a sound before which the stoutest sailor quailed—rose in frigtnlul dissonance, and broke upon the Ftartled ears of those in the surrounding ships, while echo bore ihe death wail to the adjacent coasts, where it roiled along like a thunder peal, deadening the roar of the surf, and striking with terror the shud dering inhabi'ants. The lofty masts immediately bowed to the sur face ol the sea, which at first, as it were overawed by the sudden cessation of the prevailing joy, re. ceded in a wide citcle, and then as quickly return ed, as if to the execution of a fearful judgment, pouring over the high bulwarks and through the port-holes into the innermost recesses Once moie the stateiy fabric in all its imposing mass, upon the restoration for a moment, ol its lost balance, thro' the settling waters rose erect as if to display in full majesty the imposing grandeur of its form Proudly stretched the lot y masts their extended arms to the blue sky ; but the flags and streamers, already soaked by the overwhelming sea, hung in loose folds, like emblems of mourning. Now the ehip, deeper and deeper sinking, began in giddy whirls, a horror stricken dance—a lew seconds more, and it shot, with its hundreds ol human beings iri vain with deadly pallid and agonized countenances, imploring heaven for deliverance, and clinging convulsively to the shrouds, into the gaping abyss, the foaming sea with louJ and terrrible gurgling, forever closed over the black, yawning gull and all was silent! A few moments sufficed to complete the terrific catastrophe. From all the neighboring vessels, boats were sent out to attempt to save some of the drowning hundreds, but the vast whirlpool caused by Ihe sinking ship, prevented a near approach Only a few of the most experienced sailors, who clirr.ed lo the topmast as the Royal George for the last time heaved erect, were enabled tosave them selves by swimming. All the rest, in the midst of a jubilee of pleasure, fell a prey tothe yawningsea." Courtia' of a Gall—or, Stcaliug Something. Jingo! if I don't think Betsey Davis are some kin to a yeller bird, for she's about the snuggest little baggage that ever gin corn to a hen ! Drat it! how oderrifferous she does look—rneeker'u a lam —got me towler nor a picked rooster, an' I expect 1 shall have to take a reef in the tale of my cote putty quick, for I'm engaged. Ever since she slapped rne in the barrel ol brine, an' 1 got my cloze off me, I've been sorter 'feared on her and thinks I I'll never ship up to that critter again, but I did ! I hilt back putty tite, till or.e night I seed a 'oad- I emy boy a tnakin' turkey trax in the terrectsion of j old Mrs Davis' house, an' he had on gras.-hopper ; boots. YY'hen I seed mat, in course I couldn't stan' lit—could youl Jitn Burrazo's baby! if I didn't shot hum, an' get on my sattinett trowsers quicker than four taps of a woodpecker's biil Then I had on a shirt—with ruffles, an' a pair ol spurs that un cle Ben-had feched from Mexico—an' boots 1 didn't have much whiskers, to be sure—not more'n eight or ten —but 1 had my hare chock full of goose grease, and I looked jist like a bride. I fell rnid dlin'pearl, to, and the way I did lean for Miss Betsey's were deliciou*. YVhen I got to the fence an unmerciful dog cum a kirn' after me. and if I hadn't ha'go! on die gate post putty mill Jam quick he'd a epil.-d the seat of my satnett's, sure's a Injin. "Git eout, you bominable cu>s!" ses I, an'he run into a barrel, an' hollered. In the impulse ol the moment, 1 shot in the house ; the old woman an' Betsey was thar. I tho'l they was gwine to bed, for 1 seed.Betsey's night gown and night cap a hangin' on the cheer back, an' their old Thomas cat cum and smelt of my boots—he tho'l they was meat. But I didn't see no 'cademy boy around, and I leit uncommon slick. The old lady looked dreadful wild at me, and said, " H uv is the ba bies!" an' groaned shockin', and Betsey turned ledder'n a tooster's gills. That made tne kinder fainty, so I ups and sets on the cheer where Bel sey's night gown were hangin', and went lo wis |e in\ Said the old woman— " Do you know the news ?"' Ses I, " Old Mrs. Fairbanks house go! a fire last nite, an' she's monstrous fat, an' she run out doors with nothing on her but a—but a—night's gown' air she fecht up amongst a (lock of geese an' they pecked het hko the d—l." " Like what ?" " Like little cat with the creeps," ses 1 mighty perlite. Says the old woman, " Grate laws of massy ! Poor creeter, 1 reckon she's knit her last pair of socks. On ! me;' and she shut her eye* an'—l swap't a buss along ov' Betsey. Thunder! how it crack't, and the the old woman hollered: " Mercy me! that cat's lappirr the milk. Shew skat'.you varment," and she flung her shoe to'ards the kubbard. Betsey laded, an' stuck her little hand out an' pinched my liowsets, and then ses she— " YY'hat does that 'ere truck cost yon a yard Ses I, sorter soft, "got out!" and 1 s'uek my lung out. Ses the old woman, 'lts monsterousnice good-,' and she put on her specks an' commenced to look, like a skeartcolt does over a white fence I didn'i like sich Join's as them ere, so ses I to change the gab— " That rat's are owlin', prap's she's chokey " " No she ain't," says Betsy, an'she tioded her little head like one of these limpy boberinks Jest then I wanted to blow my nose, and in pulltn' ou my han'kerchiel, slap, cum a chunk o! candy on floor, what I'd bro't to Betsey, but I stuck out my foot all fired quick an' kivered it over so they wouldn't see it; butiorney ! how my knees knock ed ! Then Betsey went down cellar arter nuicakes, and I jist piled the licks at the old woman, till she were mighty nigh stranded, an' French, and leetle Hottentot. Tell you, tho'l she were a eynugogue lor cartin, and by Ihe time Be'sey had cum back, she'd most got the hoopin'-cofl. Betsey she sot down in a cheer, as strati: and as stiff as a hickory. She sorter gin her cheer a hrch, then 1 gin mine a twice and a half, jist like wind in'carpet rags; then silence come on, like a lame hoss to fodder. Says Betsey, "do let rrip be !" See I, " I ain't teehin' ye." Ses she, " ain't you goin' to ?' " Lnd !" ses I to myself' aint that nice ?' So I told the old lady to look tip the chimney, for 1 smelt fire. YY'hen she did]took —by gosh ! ! what a smack that gal got, auJ my cheer sorter tilted, and I happened to look down towards the floor, to ketch myselt from fallen, when—hush—l were stuck up in a heap. If there waren't a hole in mv trowsers, au' a great peace of shirt a hangin' out like a play. By darned! if I didn't drap my hand quicker! an' then took t'other hand anJ sort er shoves it in like a catcreepin' into a piece of stove pipe. Sop and molasses! but I were mighty scared, and the swet drapt off of rne, for Betsey was kinder shyiu' her eye, and a snickerin' awful while I was aidin' or. a pir?. The o!d woman won-] dered what 'pon yarth aled her darter, when Betsey up and whooped like a stunned dog. I swan to man, it I coulJ bare that, so I hopped up like a bed wenc and ses I— " I gness I'll go now, for there's an old cow out doors a holierin' lor me. Good nite.' ' Good nite,' sea Betsey, a giglin' and I dodged out of that door quicker than a swaller bird can dodge a stone, and then I listened lo the winder lo hear what they'd say. Pooty soon the old woman ses— ' Betsey, what you eniekerin' a V 1 No hiri'.' 1 Why don't you stop, then?' ' Causo I can't,' ses Betsey. < Tl.en why don't you fix yourself for bed?' ' He ! he !' ses Betsey, ' Acd Albro has karricd off rr.y night gown, and I cant ; I've seen little bob tailed dogs afore now, run like a chain lightning, with a piece of stove j ipe tied to the stump of their extreme end, but Jehu ! you oner seen me leave Betsey Davis's house The way I tilted over fences, and th ngs, would have skeered the telegraph. But I kept that nightgown'. By darn ! it's the greatest curtosiiy this side of Ja pan. I never went to sea—but I went to see that 'ere gall, tho', a good mess ol times ater that time, and larnt the difference 'tween courtin' and hookiti' a gal's night gewn'. Now. wari't it comikal?' EXCELLENT REPARTEE—The Rev. Doctor M'C —. minister ol Douglass, in Clydesdale, was one day ilining in a large party where the Ikn Henry Erskine and some other lawyers were present. A great di*h ol cresses being presented after dinner, i Dr M'C , who was extravagantly fond of vegeta bles, helped himself much more largely than any other person, and as he a'e with his fingers, with a peculiar voracity of manner, Mr. Erskine was | struck with the idea that lie resembled Nebuchad i i ezzar in his slate of condemnation. Resolved to • give him a hint ot (he apparent grossness of his \ taste and maimer ol eating, the wit addressed him w.ih '• Dr. M'C., you bring rne in mind of the great Nebuchadnezzar.' The company were beginning to titter at the lu* ! diorous allusion, when the Rev. vegetable devour er replied; '• Ay, do I mind ye o'Nebuehadnezzar I—That'll ; be because I'm eating among the brutes.' GVM ARABIC—In Morocco, about the middle of | , November, that is, after a rainy season, which be ' gins in July, a gumrry juice exudes spontaneously j fiom the trunk and principal branches o( ihe acacia j iree. In about fifteen days it thickens in the fur | row, down which it runs, either in vermicular (or worm) shape, or commonly assuming the form of oval or round tears, about the size of a pigeon's egg, of different colors, as they belong to the white ior red gum tree. About tne middle ol December, the Moors encamp 011 the border of the fctest, and the harvest lasts six weeks. The gum is packed in very large sacks of lea'h er, and brought on the backs of bullocks and cam els to certain poin's, where it is sold to the French and English merchants. It is highly nutricious.— During the whole time ol hat vest, ot the journey, and of the fair, the Moors of the desert live almost J entirely upon it, and experience proves that six ounces ofgunris sufficient for the support of a rutin twenty-four hours. A GOOD RETORT.—A clergyman who was in ff e habit of preaching in different parts of itie country, was not long since ai an inn, where he observed a horse jockey trying to take in a simple gentleman, by imposing upon his broken win Jed horse for a sound one. The parson knew the bad character of the jockey, and taking the gentleman aside, told him bec.iutious of the person he was dealing w i h. The gentleman finally declined to putchase, and the jockey, quite nettled, observed " Parson, 1 had much rather hear you preach, than see you privately interfere iu bargains between man and man, in this way." " Well," replied the parson, " if you were vvhete you ough. to have been, last Sunday, you might have hear me preach." '■ Where was that?"' inquired the jockey." " lu State Prison," replied the clergyman. SOMETHING TO BE REMEMBERED.—We should make it a principle to extend our friendship to ev ery man who discharges faithfully his duties, and maintains good order— who manifests a deep in terest in the welfare of general society—whose de portment is upright, and whose mind is intelligent without stopping to ascertain whether he swings a hammer or draws a thread. There is nothing to distant from all natural claim as the reluctant, the backward sympathy, the forced smile, the check ed conversation, the hesitating compliance, which the well off are apt to manifest to those a litile down, with whom, in lite comparison of intellect and prin ciples of virtue, they frequently sink into insignifi cance. ORIGIN IF TIIETERM "OLD DOMINION."—WhiIe Oliver Cromwell was Protector of England, Virgin ia refused lo acknowledge his authority, and de clared itself independent When he threatened to send a fleet and army to reduce Virginia lo subjec tion, they sent a messenger to the exiled King Charles 11, inviting him to be King of Virginia. Ho accepted tho invitation, and was about embarking when he was recalled to the throne of England.— In gratitude to the loyalty of Virginia, he caused tier coat ol arms to be quaiterej with those of England, Ireland and Scotland, as a distinct portion of the " Old Dominion." Mrs. Partington, while visiting the MUSEUM tho other day, on looking among the old revoiu nonary relics and Scottish claymores, asked the supenntendJni it he had among the lameus cutlery ihß " axe of the apostles." CINCINNATI was a FORMER, AND aae of DIE no* blest Romany.