Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, December 09, 1854, Image 1

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T () \V A N I) A :
gatnrimn fllorninn, December
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.
" 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
" 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
" 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."
" 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 b<ian to decline
when Mrs Burton came to the village She was no
longer the leader ol the (on, and her heart was
bursting wi'h envy Though she olten received
the kind offices of the store keeper's wife both in
sickness and irt health, she would willingly ftave
crushed her. That new cloak was the cap sheaf
of the indignities which she fancied had been
heaped upon her, and she determined that her un
conscious rival should puffer the consequences of
her temerity.
Her first demonstration was upon her husband
whom she found no difficulty in convincing that
Mr Button must be ruined by the extravagance of
his wife, arid that unless he immedia'ely collected
hts debt, he would certainly lose it.
As soon as she had done her washing on Mon
day , she " made some calls." and embraced the
opnortuni'y of commenting lieely upon that new
cloak. Tlte women told their husbands that Mr.
Buiton would certainly fail; and belote three days
ha l elapse.!, there was quite a fermenting irt the
Nobody knew anything about Mr. Burton's af
fairs; he seemed to be doing a good business,
(hough no one knew of his having any money.—
He did not even own the house in which lie lived ;
he had no property, apparently, but Ins stock The
careful old farmers, to whom in the course of
I '
trade he had become indebted for pioduce which
he sent to Boston, began to be alarmed by these
It was in the State ol New Hampshire; and at
the time of which I write, the "grab law"' was in
force, and is still, for aught I know.
One morning, as Mr. Burton returned fiom a
journey to a neighboring town, he found his stock
attached on the claim of Farmer YVaxwell—and
all on account of that new cloak his wife'.had worn
to meeting on the preceding Sunday.
He had not the means to pay the note at that
moment, and while he was considering a plan to
extricate himself from the dilemma, the news that
his goods had been attached, spread all over the
place. All the creditors were in hot haste to fol
low the track of Farmer Waxwell—for it was
" first come, first served"—and in less than two
hours a dozen had fastened upon the stock of the
This was a tremendous result to follow in the
train of a thirty dollar cloak, and a gos.-iping old
" What do you think now, Miss Viney 1" asked
Mrs. YVaxwell, as they met, soon alter the store
keeper's disaster had been made public.
" I hope Mr. Burton will be able to pay his
" But he won't—l know he won't!"
" Piobably if they had given him any notice of
their intentions to demand the payment of their
claims, he would have been prepared to meet
<•' I guess Mrs. Burton will not feel quite so stuck
up after this."
'a I hope you done no hing to bring about this
sad result."
" But I have made my husband sue his note, and
when he put on, the others did. —Thirty dollar cloak
indeed !"
" I am sorry you have done this; you may ruin
Mr. Burton by it."
" That's just what I mean to do!" and Mrs.
Waxwell's malignant expression betrayed the
jealousy she had long harbored.
" You did. It was very unkind and ungrateful
in you to do so," replied Miss Viney, indignant
" Humph."
" Any trader would be likely to come out badly
to have all his creditors pounce upon him without
giving him a chance to collect his debts."
" I don't believe he has any to collect."
" Even your husband, as well ofl as he is, might
be embarrased if suddenly called upon to pay his
debts," and Miss Viney looked significantly at her
angry companion.
" I doubt it."
"He may have a trial," said the maiden lady,
as she moved towards the store.
" What can she mean by that!" thought Mis.
Miss Viney had some property of Iter own, and
it was all in the hands of Farmer YVaxwell, who j
had, on his own account, invested the greater part
of it in railroad stock.
That is what she meant. She would claim the
three thousand dollars her husband owed her, and
a cold chill passed through her veins, as the
thought struck her. Farmer YVaxwell was rich in
houses, lands and stock, all of which yielded htm
a good income; but he had not three thousand dol
lars, in money, and it might cost him some trou
ble to raise it.
" Don't cry, my dear, I have enough due me in
Boston to pay these debts, ten times over," said
Mr. Burton to his wife, who was much alarmed by
the storm which threatened them.
" YVhat will people think V'
" YVhat will they think when I pay them all;
the whole amount is no' above nine hundred col
Jusi ihen, Miss Viney entered the house. In a
few words, she explained the circumstances which
had led to the sudden "stiike" among the credi- I
Mrs. Burton, kind soul, shed a flood of tears ■
when she heard how cruel Mrs. Wax well had been
—she whom she nursed with all the tenderness of
a mother, when her frightened neighbors fled from
the contagious disease.
" Never mind it my dear. We may expect any- !
thin™ frum a meddler, a gossip, a slanderer," said
Mr. Burton. I must start fbr Boston in the noon
' Allow me, Mr. Burton, to offer you the money I
to discharge these liabilities I have three thous- I
and dollars in the hands of Mr. VVaxwell."
" Vou are very kind, and I accept your offer," re
plied Mr. Burton, "and next week I shall have
the means of repaying you I assure you lam '
worth at least five thousand dollars."
In proof of his assertion, he showed her various
notes, mortgages, and certificates of stock.
" I presume it the people here knew that I was
not a bankrupt, they would not have molested me :
In spite of all my amiable neighbor, Mrs. Wax- (
well, may say, I think I am abundantly able to
| give my wife a thirty dollar cloak.' 1 '
" I never doubted it," replied Miss Viney, as she j
hastened on to the village lawyer, to put her note
in course of collection.
Farmer Waxwell was at dinner, when the law
yer, who was a personal friend, called upon him
" Sorry to trouble you, but 1 am instructed to
collect this note," said he.
"The devil J" exclaimed Farmer Waxwell.
" The ugly huzzy !" added Mrs. Waxwell, as she j
perceived Mt*s Viney's prophetic words had been
burdened with a meaning.
" I beg your pardon, madam," aid the lawyer,
'' but it 1 understand it tightly, yon have publicly
boas'ed that you brought about all this difficul
" I !"
" Yes madam, that new cloak did the business;
you set your husband on, and all the rest followed
him, so Miss Viney tells me."
" My gracious !"
" And now she wants the money to assist Mr. •
Button out ol the difficulty into which you have
plunged him."
" That's plain speech, Squire."
*" But true."
" I can't raise the money."
" Then I must sue."
Can't we compromise?"
" Burton is worth at least five thousand dollars,
and when he gets a remittance from Boston will
pay all."
" I will disolve my attachment, and be bound to
the payment of the other. Will that do it?"
" Yes, if Miss Vaney will consent."
Miss Viney did consent—she was a kind-heart
ed lady—and the matter was compromised.
" Now, wife," said Farmer VVaxwell. as he put
the three hundred dollars in his pocket, which
Burton had paid, minus thirty dollars which he held
in his hand, " here's thirty dollars and I think you'd
belter go and buy one of ihent 'ere cloaks. Your
envy like to have got me into the cussedest scrape
I ever got into in my life."
She would'not lake it ;*she was too mean to dress
well herself, and too envious to permit others who
were able, to do so in peace. But she gathered
from the events ot our story, a healthy experience
ol fhe wisdom of that excellent maxim— "MlND
Sickness has a wonderful influence on the
heart. If we ever feel like doing a generous action,
it is while recovering from a long course ol fever
and confinement. Health has its uses, but improv
ing our virtue and goodr.ess is not one of thetn.—
All our crimes are committed by men overflowing
with blood and robustness.
A Tln llllns Scene.
The following vivid of the sinking of
the Royal George, with a ball in lull activity on
board, is translated for the Pennsylvania Enquirer,
from the " torty-eight years Memories of a Consti
tutional Officer," as extracted from the November
number ola German monthly, the Meyer's Mohat
shefte, published in New York. It will be recol
lected that the Royal George was commanded by
AJmiral Kemperfeldt, aged 70 Between eight
and ninejhnndied persons perished; of whom three
hundred were women and children :
" In ihe summer of 1782, the Royal George, a
stately three decker, of eighty-four guns, alter an
absence of two years at a foreign station, cast an
chor in Sphhead roads. At the end of a week,
which had been employed in removing all traces
of her long voyage, and in a thorough cleansing,
the captain issued invita'ions to the officers of the
fleet in the Spithead waters and the nobility and
gentry of Portsmouth, for a grand ball on boatd
The interior of the upper deck, freshly painted from
stem to stern, and elegantly decorated, appeared
j like a floating palace.
The appointed hour for the commencement of
J the Jete had arrived, and the harbor was gradually
| covered by hundreds ol boats, some carrying the
I invited guests to the Royal Geoige, and others at
j traded by curiosity to witness the delicate homage
; which British naval officers are accustomed to
bestow upon beauty All that the most refined j
taste could suggest, and the most lavished expendi- |
lure procure, had been bestowed upon the embel- '
lishment ol the vessel The deck, whose entire .
1 space was appropriated to the ball, resembled a
1 vast pillared hall, over which, from the mast and
; yards, floated the intermingled folds of numberless
flags and streamers of ev 3 ry variety of color In
j stead of tdpestry, the sides were covered with vel
! vets, and silk hangings. Among the furniture were
( to be seen the most precious ivory work, and divans
j and chairs ol rose arid sandle woods, carved and
fashioned in a manner to rival the most ingenious
Chinese tas'e. The awning was composed of
. carpets of the richest oriental fabric, ornamented
with gold and silver embroidery, and the rugs
j before the state rooms were productions of Cache
mere, which might have figured as aiticles of
luxury in the wardrobes of princely dames. The
j sideboards gli.tered with gold and silver vessels,
among which was a magnificent vase, set with
j costly jewels, Ihe sill ofan East India prince. Otto
! of roses in crys'al jars, in niches expiessly made,
j scattered iri profusion its delicious perfume. In a
; word, the whole scene with its splendid decorations
I resembled rather the banqueting room of a royal
I palace than the interior ola flag ship.
After the admiral had ca-' a last satisfied glance
i upon the tasteful embellishments, and had passed
review the brilliant preparations he repaired to the
deck, where, in sta'e, and surrounded by his offi
\ cers as a king by his nobles, he look his post \o
receive his guests. Whilst a select band of music
filled the air with melody from every side there
was seen'gliding over the still waters towards the
ship gaily dresed boats bearing the elite of beauty
J and nobility from Portsmouth, Portsea, the Isle of
; Wight, and other neighboring points on the coast
The universal joy of the officers and guests was
.enhanced by the beau'y ol the night, riot a cloud
i dimming the radiance of the stars, and not a breath
j of air ruffling the surlace of the sea
And yet destruction was maliciously hovering,
in this hour of festivity, over the finest ship in the
I fleet. Already death invisibly sat grinning behind
I the seats of these pleasure seeking guests. Of
j mutiny there was no apprehension, a- ihe whole
| crew were all true and loyal, and warmly attached
to ihe commanding officer; nor was ihere any
possibility of a leak, as the utmost precautions had
been adopted, and the powder magazine had been
additionally secured by trippie fastenings. YY 7 ho
could have believed that the swelling of a gentle
west wind would be sufficient to produce a catas
troph as unparalleled in its character as in its awful
About two hours la'er, as the ball was in full
movement, there arose, not a light breeze but
rather a breath of air from the southwest which
hardly stirred a curl of hair among the crowd of
dancing beauties. The oscillation which it brought
as it stole across the motionless lace of the water
appears to have been unnoticed But, inscrutable
fate! This insensible puff of air, not sufficient to
draw a sound from the chords of an ae >lian 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
"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
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
" 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
" 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
' 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?'
—. 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
'• Dr. M'C., you bring rne in mind of the great
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.
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
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."
blest Romany.