■ !5 PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. I , r; N a n fliUrtting* 20, 1838. ■ Scietfci) Doetrj. [From the Press.] WINTER EVENING. I , jjiflir "neath my heavy footstep ),the cri>iy frostcd snow , Cruelly the north winds blow ; S ' :c ,-omes no pleasant murmur " Frum the ;;ie . ; iy hills by the river, ■ ' Bare and wasted, sleeping lie. H K,; yi.l drear, the titfal uiglit-wind M ,among the pine-tops high— js.tawug the laurels by, H • , n the rustling branches g a liie trailing wild vine clings, >iU d i - softly fold their wings ; y, lie eiusc, like living tilings. I .pliv- 'nmu the stunted lir trees > t the thi< k'aing shadows creep ; H . I . ; i i.i, knees, dream the Islands H , uere the icy waters sleep. H : • ,>\>r tiie stately pine-tops. ! liitithful ijueeu of night lV.se- in her downward flight— ■ Sjk ], : i:as her iueffettual tires A- she bids the world goodnight. ® ,-t'rinir in the dcep'ning shadows, l'liaatoms pour from deep ravines ; From the C' verts of the pines ; H From I 1 tic ii.ir.uta by woodland waters, iite'lin- crags, and caves, aud mines. ■' '.ginglv th'-ir cold wings flutter By ny creejiißg, stilTning hair, A- they cleave the icy air ; H A: .11 see their myriad columns Sin o'er the furrows bare. Aad! hear their low. sad wliisp'rings, ■ As 1 pause with list'ning ear ; ■ Ah! were not the village near, ■ lit.iri:._ such mysterious noises, 1 should reel. methiuks, with fear 1 K i Yew you on another shore— Ye have stirred my heart before ! y Vi e-. ye are all pervading — B Ye are whisp'ring evermore ! Ti.f pnrjik' line has fled the valley ; Sow tin- sickle moon is down ; I t>l. ::iily the saow-clouds frown; I Aad the bare hills by the river ■ let j deeper shade have grown. !%1 * * * * I Onre again in march sublime, Night h.s clasped the hand of Time, A Ed' ;e trooping star- in gladness "ull-'.i) ired Earth's natal hymn. H TovivuA, 15th March, I*s s. J. M. I Hi scc 11 aitcd ns. [From l.ife Illustrated.] HOW TO EARN A HOME. Tiie other evening I came home with an ex- B'& teu do,lar hill in my pocket—money that IB- v. earned by out-of hours work. The fact 11 a clerk in a down town store at a B< ol .41,00 per annum, anil a pretty wife ■ baby to support out of it. * ' ; i. '-e t!i income wiii sound amazingly ■-" 'o your two and three tliou.sand dollar ( ' b is, hut nevertheless we contrive to ■ T< -' r ) comforiably upon it We live on one ■ " >'• unpretending little boose, for which ■;i • *' 3o per annum, and Kitty —my wife, understand—does all her own work, so B*t lay up a little sum every year. I've V e of two or three hundred dollars r savings hank, the hoard of several and it is astonishiug how rich I feel ! Rothschild himself isn't a circumstance >■' a.e! ' came home with my extra bill, and f ' it triumphantly to Kitty, who of ' as di lighted with my industry and -3 w, my love," said I, "just add this to -at at the bank, and with interest at • .of the year—" li 1 commenced casting interest 1 '.luting in my brain. Kitty was si : -u rocked the cradle musingly with her ■ l(, en thinking, Harry !" she said af ''ueiit - pause, " that since you've got "a money we might uiford to buys - This is getting dreadful shabbv, n.y 1 ■; : dolefully at the rug ;it was worn ■iu;, ,Y enough, that was a fact. [. 1 - l; get a beautiful uew velvet pattern U c , l! J 'htrs," resumed my wife. |.i :i dollars 1" groaned J. f. ■ bien, a common tufted rug like this, •y cost three," said my cautious bet ■v iO seeing she could'nt carry her k.; al " ;j iUou.s point, wisely withdrew her an, 1 " 1 *' 8 more sensible," said I. "Well shout it." .'V;' 1 tare's another thing I want," con '-yT•, putting her hand coaxingly 'Jiiior, "and it's not at all extrava !s I asked, softening rapidly . -/A * f { ffft g . - " I saw such a lovely silk dress pattern on Canal street this morning, and I cau get it for six dollars —only six dollars, Harry ! It'd the cheapest thing 1 ever saw." " But haven't you got a very pretty grecu silk dress ?" " That old tiling! Why, Ilarry, I've worn it ever since we've been married." " Is it soiled, or ragged ?" " No, of course ; but who wants to wear the same green dress forever ? Everybody know? it is the only silk I have." " Well, what then ?" " That's just a man's question," pouted Kitty. " And I suppose you have not ob served how old-fashioned ray bonnet is get ting 1" " Why, I thought it looked very neat and tasteful since you put on that black velvet win ter trimming." " Of course—you men have no taste in such matters." We were silent for a moment ; I'm afraid we both felt a little cross and out of humor with one another. In fact, on my journey home, I had entertained serious thoughts of exchang ing my old silver watch for a more modern time piece of gold, and hud mentally appropri ated the ten dollars to furthering that pur pose. Savings bank reflections had come later. As we sat before our fire, each wrapped in thought, our neighbor, Mr. Wilmot, knocked at the door. He was employed in the same store as iuyself, and his wife was an old family friend. " I want yoa to congratulate me," he said, taking a seat. " I have purchased that little cottage out on tiie Blooniingdale road to-day." " What ! that beautiful little wooden cot tage witli the pia/.zrr and lawn, and fruit garden behind ?" exclaimed Kitty, almost en viously. "Is it possible ?" I cried. A little cottage home of my own, just like that 1 had often admired on the Bloomingdale road, had always been the one crowning ambition of my life—a distant and almost hopeless point, but no less earnestly desired. "Why, Wilmot," said I, "how did this happeu ? You've only been in business eight or ten years longer than I, at a salary but a trifle larger than mine, yet I could as soon buy up the Mint as purchase a cottage like that." " Well," said my neighbor, "we have all been working to this end for years. My wife has darned, patched, mended, and saved—we have lived on plain fare, and done with the cheapest things. But the magic charm of the wiiole affair was that we laid aside every pcu ny that was not needed by actual positive want. Yes, I have seen my wife lay by reu coppers, one by one." " Well, you are a lucky fellow," said I, with a sigh. " Times are hard, yon know, just now. — The owner was not what you call an econm- I ical man, and he was glad to sell, even at a noderate price. So you see that even hard times have helped me !" When our neighbor was gone, Kitty and I looked meaningly at one another. " Harry," said she, " the rug isn't so had, after all ; and my green silk will do for another year, with care." " And a silver watch is qnite as good, for all practical purposes, as a gold repeater, 7 said I. "We will set aside all imaginary wants." " The ten dollar lull must go to the bank." said Kitty, " and I'll economize the coppers, just as Mrs. Wilmot did. O ! how happy she will be, among the roses iu that cottage gar den next spring !" Our merry tea-kettle sung us a cheerful little song over the glowing fire that night, and the burden v as, " Economy and a home of your own, amid the roses and the country air !"— Harry Clover. DEACON BRIGGS. —Old Deacon Briggs is ns remarbable for his closeness as was Dickens' man, Barkis. His name has come to be a proverb in our region for such an economy as ever makes a man the subject of ridicule and contempt. One bitter cold morning a few falls ago, he bade the boys drive together all the pigs that were to be fattened for the market, into the little yard jnst at the corner of the house. A pig was caught by one of the young sters ; the Deacon with a pair of pincers in one hand, and a sharp knife in the ot her, seiz ed the uufortunate by the tail, and cut it off dose up. So on through the whole herd, leav ing not a pig with even a stump of a tail.— Cort, who worked for his grandfather, stood by in amazement —his hands in his pockets, his toes turned in, his old fur hat over his ears, his body warped into a crescent by the cold, and his teeth drawing against the outrage with a prodigious clatter. At last be stuttered out : I "Grandpa! What are you cutting oil" those tails for ?" Sober aud solemn was Deacon Briggs as lie replied : " You never will be a rich man, for you do not know what it is to be savin'. You ought to know, my child, that it takes a bushel of corn to fallen an inch of tail Cort lias gone to the west, and, in the corn growing bottoms of Michigan, has taken to the ruisiug of tailless porkers. Scotch parson was betrayed into more puns than lie meant to make, wiiou he prayed for the Council and Parliament, that they might hang together in these trying times. A countryman standing by, cried out : " Yes, witli al! my heart, and the sooner the better ; it's the prayer of all good peo ple." " But my friends," said the parson, " I don't mean as that fellow does, but I pray that they may all hang together iu accord aud concord." " No ujattor what cord," the fellow sang out again, " so it is only a strong one " PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " RESARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." Macaroni Making. It was towards the afternoon that we got into Atnalfi. A host of touters besieged us in vain ; and as Donicnico, the driver of the coach that brought us, usually gets a fee from the padrone of the inn for ever guest he brings, he was eloquent in its praise. An army of beg gars surrounded us, shouting for a" bottiglia and, thus accompanied, we arrived at the door of the Locanda dei Cappucnii where the Don Mattheo is something of a magnilico, aud seems to think it somewhat of a condescension to play the host. The fare and treatment are very good. I had a special object in view, which was to describe the great branch of industry by which Amalfi and the neighborhood subsist. " Where will you take us, Luigi," said I to my cicerone, " to see macaroni made ?" " Well, sir, Garabardella is the largest maker," was the reply. Off we went to the great flour prance of Atnalfi. A stream of water rushing down from the mountains iu front of a great factory marked the place we were in search of ; but, before entering, I stopped to purify my shoes from dirt acquired in the way. One rushed to get water, another straw, and another a brush. " I'll skin this stranger !" said the first of my eager assistants. "If I don't get half a piastre out of him—may I be hanged !" " You have made a mistake," I replied, in Italian. On which the whole party laughed heartily. The scene within the fabrica was comical enough. A crowd of men and boys, halfblind with flour, and as white as cauliflowers, sat on a lever bumping up and down, and making it describe the arc of a circle. Grinding, sif ting, mixing, kneading aud pressing were all going on in the same place ; the manufactured article being taken to another place to dry.— With pencil iu hand and book ou a sack, I began to take notes. " He is going to make a story about me," said oue of the men who had mustered around us. " No, he is not," said others ; " lie is going to set up a macaroni fabrica in England." " Sinor ! will you take me with you ?" said a sharp 'ooking, fair-complexioned, young man " Fifteen hundred ducats only will set it a going." The poor fellow was really in earnest, I believe, and was somewhat disappointed when 1 assured him of his mistake. The grain used for making macaroni is of the very hardest quality, is grown priucipally in l'uglia, and is known as Saragala. It is washed in the mountain stream which flows down from behind the city, and woe to the wearied traveller who is awakened at the dawn of day by the numerous grain washers The operation is cleverly and rapidly done, and amusing enough it is to watch it. When ground—which it is by the action of water mills—the flonr is sifted into five different qualities. The first is called Farina, which, being sifted, is divided into Fiore and Brenna. The tiorc is used for making the ordinary macaroni while the brenna is used as food for horses and pigs. The fiore is itself again sifted until a yet finer quality, colled azemmatura, is formed. This is used to make a superior kind <.i macaroni. A last sifting produces semoliua the finest kind which can be formed. The flour is well mixed in a large tub, in the proportion of twenty-four caraffa of water(a caraffa being about a pint aud a half,) to a hundred aud fifty Neapolitan pounds of flour. The quantity thus used, goes by the name of a Pasta, and is put on a large kneading board. At the farther end of the board a long lever moves horizontally by a swivel ; and, on the other extremity of it, sit three or four half naked girdled men, who, for three quarters of an hour move backward and forward on a kind of horizontal see saw describing diminutive arcs of circles. In this way the lever is brought to bear upon the dough, kneading and cutting it till it is r< aiy for pressing. The men remind one offigures in Egyptian drawings; stiff and unnatural. Tis hard work, however, and there is always a relief party to take the place of the exhausted men. The last operation is most important, as it gives its character and form to the macaroni. There are various kinds of macaroni, or pasta, rejoicingjin different names, as vermicelli stellata, starred, acine, dippe, ricei fuitant, flowing rocks ; semaza di meloni, melon seed ; occhi di pernici, partridge eye ; capclletti, lit tle hats ; stivallettion, small hoots ; pnnti del ago, needle-points. The first is that long sort which we English use as a dolce or au gratin. All the others are used to thicken soup, like barley. First let tue speak of the vermicelli. When kneaded, the dough is put into a large copper cylindrical vessel, hollow above ar.d below ; but at the lower extremity is fixed a moveable plate, perforated with holes. When held up to the light, it looks like the section of a honey comb, being circular. On the top of the cylinder is a block corresponding to its size, and the w hole is then exposed to the ac tion of the press. Screw goes the press and fur below from out of the boles of the cylinder a scrfes of white worms protiu le their heads. Screw, screw again, and out they come, longer and longer ; until having arrived at the legi timate length, they are cut off ; and so the operation of screwing and cutting is continued until the whole quantity of dough is exhausted. The vermicelli is then hung upon poles for drying, which requires usually about eight days under favorable circumstances, a north wiiul being always preferred, as a sirocco wiud is preferred for the kneading. With regard to the smaller kinds of paste, they arc made by a mixture of machinery and hand-work. — THUS the cylinder being placed horizontally, a man with a razor stands by the side ;and,as the dough protrudes through the holes, he cuts it off imediftely into small bits, —a simple and primitive method cuongh. The smallest kinds of all are made, however, by hand and prin cipally at Minori and Majuri, two small villa ges which wo passed on route for Amalfi. In fact, the whole coast lives by making and eat ing macaroni : and one probable reason of this is, that lying, as the whole of this district does under lofty mountains which are intersected by deep ravines down which pour mighty torrents there is an unlimited supply of water power, I was informed that in j\ma!fi alone, about eighty thousand tomoli of flour are consumed annually for all purposes ; a very smail pro portion for bread, for your macaroni eater is not a great bread eater. Altogether, there are about twenty fabriehe of macaroni in the city each fabrica employing in the simple man ufacture of the article about 15 hands. Then a much larger number of persons are occupied in the washing, and preparation, and carriage of grain ; for every tiling is done by hand, arid great numbers prepare macaroni on a small scale, without dignifying their more limited enterprises with the title of fabrics Gam burdella is evidently the great man of the place, for lie imports his own grain ; has four brigantini, of two hundred and fifty tons each which bring up grain from Munfrcdonia and Sicily ; and what Gambardella does not con sume, he sells among his neighbors. Let me now put on a paper cap and a white apron, and, before concluding this article, give some experienced hints on the cooking of macaroni. In England it is boiled to a pulp —error the first. First take your water, as Mrs Glass might say ; let it boil well, and then put in your macaroni. The finger will soon ascertain whether the macaroni L soften ing ; and before it loses its consistency, you must take it up. Now then for your sauce. You may mix with it either a good tomato sauce, or a rich meat gravy, and a [date of grated cheese most penorce sprinkle your mac aroni. There are many other more complicat ed and luxurious ways of dressing the arti cle, which are beyond the reach of my science. With the smaller kinds you will enrich your soups, and some of them you may convert in to a really delicious dish, called Driest Stran gles, so fond are the reverend gentlemen said to be of it. When we had finished our survey, we found the horses at the door, and so was Domenico. I). Mattheo, from a window at the priino piano, was making divers elegant and eon descending bows to us. We rushed through a host of beggars, who beset the path, aud away we dashed through Atrauii, Majuri, and all ot'nar places which we traversed the day before. There was not a cloudlet in the hea vens, and tiie heat was nil too powerful ; yet it was the middle of November. What a cimate ! and yet what a government.—House hold Words. 153?" Some people have a penchant for mar ring the finished works of Nature around them, as if there was too much of them. We have an acquaintance who, like most al! the world, is the proudest of precisely the qual ities he does not posses?, which in his ease, happen to be, a knowledge of farming and sound practical sense. And he has the worst type of this trimming mania. lie hasn't a cow upon his premises that he has not mutilated ; he has sawed off the horns of one, brought the tail of another to " a premature end," and cut a triangular slice out of the ears of all of them. He purchases beautiful creatures, but once within reach of him, they do not remain beau tiful long. He covcrted n horse and bought him ; a finished piece of work he was,and such a mane, that rippled down his neck in glossy waves, and how grandly he tossed it ! Job would have been delighted to look at him.— Well, the first thing this poor tailor and trim mer of God's creatures did, was to shear the horse of the glory of his mane, and now this perpetrator of " mayhem" as the lawyers have it, regards with great complacency, the brist ling ridge, that looks like a monstrous shoe brnh with a horse for a handle. lie had a valuable dog, but be mrt-d needs divest him of as fine " a brush" as a dog ever said " thank you" with. Not a pig iu his do main but has been reinorsely " cut off 7 ' in the innocence of pighoo l.We do not believe hewo'd accept of an estate if it were entailed, or be a merchant if the goods must be retailed. Had he been the Duke of Venice in Othello's time, the Moor would have " delivered" nothing by any body's " gracious patience," for the Duke would have abridged the tale without regard to mercy or orthography. His cm tai iug mania was n>t content with mutilating the animal kiugdom, for he so brush ed up and trimmed up the trees in his orchard, flmt they looked like so many rows of chuckle headed scholars, newly washed and shorn for a holiday. Not an outline of beauty preserv ed ; not a branch to sway gracefully in the wiud. Could ho have had his way, ho would have cut scollops in the edge of the horizon, or slic ed out a section ns if it were a pie. And the secret of the whole matter was, that his soul was shaped like a quadrant box, and his ideas were isosceles triangles.— L>. F. Taylor. CORN IN THE EAR—A very clever writer for Godey got off a good story some time since about an Irishman, who being told by his master to srive a " warm mash" to the black filly, endeavored to pour the horse feed down tiie the throat of Bhilhs, the respectable color ed cook. Tiie same literal obedience to or ders occurred a short time since in New- Jersey. A farmer who had employed a green Ern eralder, ordered him to give the mule some corn in the car. Ou his coming in the far mer asked : " Well, Pat, did you give the corn V "To be sure 1 did." " How did you give it ?" " Au shure as yez tould, 1n the ear." " But how much did you give ?" " Well, yez see the crnythur wouldn't stand still, and kept switching his ears about, so I conkln't git not above a fisht full in both of it? ears," COQUETTE. — A human WASP that tries to pass itself off for a bee THE WKDOIXU lit NO FINGER. —This is the fourth finger on the left hand. Why this par ticular digit should have received such a token of honor and trust beyond all its congeners, both in Pagan and Christian times, has been variously interpreted. The most common ex planation is, according to Sir Thomas Browne, " presuming therein that a |irticular vessel, nerve, vein, or artery, is conferred thereto from the heart which direct vascular com munication Browne shows to be anatomically incorrect. Maerobius gives another reason, which may jierhaps satisfy those anatomists who are not satisfied with the above. " Pol lex," he says, or thumb (whose offices and gen eral usefulness arc sufficiently indicated from its Latin derivative polleo, and from its Greek equivalent, anlicheir, which means ' as good as a hand'), is too busy to be set apart for any such special employment ; the next finger to the thumb being but half protected on that side, besides having other work to do, is also ineligible ; the opprobrium attaching to the middle linger, called medicus, puts it entirely out of the question f and as the little finger stands exposed, and is moreover too puny to enter the lists in such a contest, the spousal honors devolve naturally on pronulns, the wed ding-finger." In the British Apollo, 17S8, it is urged that the fourth finger was chosen from its being not only iess u-ed than either of the rest, but more capable of preserving a ring from bruises ; having this one quality peculiar to it self, that it cannot be extended but iu compa ny with some other finger, whereas the rest may lie stretched out their full length aud straightness.— Popular Errors Examined. A WIFE C'OMI-RESSED INTO A RING.—A cer tain R i -sian noble, who lately visited Paris, was noticed to be constantly plunged in deep j sadness, lie wore ou his finger a very re markable ring, large enough for a bracelet, i ail 1 extended cm r his hand like a buckler for the ring finger. It was of a greenish color, aud was traversed by red veins. It attracted the attention of everybody, but no one was bold enough to interrogate the mysterious I stranger, until one day a lady, meeting him in a public parlor, ventured to say, "You wear a very handsome ring." The Russian made a movement as though he would conceal his hand, but that feeling gave way to a desire to unburden himself. "If is net a ring," he au i swered, " but a sepulchre !" A shudder pass ed through the whole company. " This jewel, madam," he continued, "is my wife. 1 had the misfortune to lose her some years since, in Russia. She was a:i Italian, and dreaded the icy bed which awaited her after this life. I carried her remains to Germany where I was acquainted with a celebrated chemist, whom I directed to make of the body a solid substance, which I could always carry about me. Eight days afterward lie sent for me and showed me the empty coffin, a horrid collection of instru ments and alembics. This jewel was lying on a table. He had through means of some cor rosive substances and powerful pressure reduc ed and compressed that which was my wife, into this jewel, which shall never more leave me." This burial by chemistry is an improvement upon the process of cremation lately proposed by the French papers. Should it become popular a widow may hereafter have her hus band made into a bracelet with a chain attach ed to remind her of the hymeneal bond, a hus band w ill have his wife done into a pin, and certain academicians—old fogies—we know would make very good coat buttons.—.Yew York Tribune. ITOXORARI.E CONDITIONS. —Many J*ears ago. in what is now a flourishing city in New Hampshire lived a stalwart blacksmith, fond of Ids pipe and of his joke. He was : i)so fond of his blooming daughter, whose many graces and charms had ensnared the affections of a young printer. The conple after a season of billing and cooing, " engaged " themselves, and nothing but the consent of the yonrtg lady's " parent " prevented their union. To obtain this, an interview was rrranged, and Typo pre pared a little speech to astonish aud convince the old gentleman, who sat enjoying his pipe in perfect content. Typo dilated upon the fact of their long friendship, their mutual attachment, their hopes for the future, and like topies, and taking the daughter by the hand, said—" I now, sir, ask your permission to transplant this lovely flower from its parent bed " —hut his plicelinks' overcame him, he forgot the remainder of Lis rhetorical flourish, blushed, stammered, and finally wound up with —" from its parent lied info my men." The father keenly relished the discomfiture of the suitor, and after removing his pipe and blowing a cloud of smoke replied : " Well, young man, I don't know as I've any objection, pro vided yai will marry the gal first." POVERTY AND G r.xius.—The history of those who, 'tiicir genius and untiring energy, have taken the sting from poverty and won lor theiu selves a place in the catalogue of illustrious, must ever lie interesting to the son of toil.— Tiie greatness of real worth belongs to such characters ; apart from lilgli birth and proudly swelling titles, from the splendor of wealth and station, and frequently without, the ad vantages of early education, the children of penury have marched on to honor, patiently triumphing over the obstacles which impeded their progress. The working man may well glory in the uew and noble aristocracy which his gifted companions at the loom, the plow, and the anvil have helped to establish, and be stimulated bv their example to show himself worthy of the fraternity to which lie belongs. t'V"The.man who ate his dinner with the fork of a river, has been trying to spin a moun tain top. Rest satisfied with doing, and leave others talk of you what, they please. ftT? Good nature, like a glow worm, sheds light p\en in dirty places. VOL. XV 11L—IS O. 47. " FASHOKAHI.K COXGKEGATOK." —The news pafier reporters pay U very equivocal compli ment to this or th.it preneher, wlieu they tell us lie was listened to by a fashionable congre gation. Fashion is all right ut the theater or the opera,—or other public assemblages of a .secular character, —but the jade ought not to have anythinvr to do in the Temple of the Most High. Think of Paul preaching, to a " fashionable" congregation to Mars' Hill, — or a greater than l'aul delivering a sermon on the mount to a " numerous and fashionable audience." True, we have fashionable preach ers, but it is a question whether their preach ing would not be followed with better effects if the " fashion" were taken out of it. Fash ion is a heartless thing at best, —and heart lessuess in religion is hypocrisy. TI;K USE OF POTASH AND SAND. —No vines can produce fruit without potash. Dyewoods and all color-given plants owe their viviikdyes to potash. Leguminous plants all require pot ash. Without it we cannot have a mess of peas. Where it exists iu a natural state in the soil, there we find leguminous plants growing wild, and in such places only we find wild grapes. All the cereals require potash, phos phate of magnesia, and silica, which is dis solvable in a solution of potasn. It is this dis solved sand that forms the hard coat of the stalks, and gives them strength to stand up against the biast.s of wind and rain while ripening. It is this substance that gives bam boos their strength, or the beards of grain and blades of grass their cutting sharpness. No cereal ever came to perfection in asoil" devoid of potash, silica, phosphate of lime, carbonic acid and nitrogen. THE SI'IDEB. —The worst thing about this poor animal is that it is so thoroughly ugly.— In it nature has sacrificed everything to the formation of the industrial machine necessary for satisfying its wants. Of a circular form, furnished with eight legs, and eight vigilant eyes, it astonishes (and disgusts) us by the pre-eminence of an enormous abdomen. Ignoble trap ! in which the inattentive and superficial observer will see nothing but a type of glut tony. Alas lit is quite the contrary. This abdomen is its workshop, its magazine, the jKieket in which the rope maker keeps his stock but as lie fills this pocket with nothing but his own substances, he can only increase it at his own expense by means of a rigid sobriety.— True type of the artisan. If I fast to-day," he says, " I shall, perhaps get something to eat to-ir.orrow, but if my manufacture be stop ped, everything is lost, und my stomuch will have to fast forever.' JrvKMi.F. GI MITIOX. —A farmer in Virginia who had been digging a well, was called away from home, leaving none but two boys on the premises. During his absence, a favorite horso by accident got into the well, which was about twelve feet deep, and of sufficient diameter to allow the horse standing room. The boys set their young brains to work to get him ont.— Their bill of " ways and means " was almost exhausted, wheu the youngest, only nine years old, suggested an amendment, which was im mediately adopted. Large quantities of straw were convenient, which the boys pitchedJn to fill up the well, the prisoner tramping it down, until he could walk right out upon " straw bail." A VIUGINIA PICTCRK—If the scene of the following item, which we cut from the Wheel ing Intelligencer, was located anywhere save iu Virginia, we should doubt its truth : " We saw yesterday, going up toward the upper ferry, a team of four animals—a horse, a pony, a mule, and a bull. The horse had the heaves, the pony was blind, the nUile was lame, and the hull had no provision for fly time lu the wagon, which was an ordinary one, there sat a white man, a crippled nigger, and a tame skunk frailly bound with a wisp of straw. The white man held the lines, the team held its own, and the nigger held the skunk, and they all moved forward. To make this worthy of its place, it is essentad to say that it is true. A kind hearted wife once waited on a physician to request him to prescribe for her husband's eyes, which were sore. " Let him wash them," suid the docter, " every morning with brandy." A few weeks after, the docter, chanced to meet the wife. " Well, has your husband followed my ad vice ?" " He has done everything in his power to do it, docter, but lie never could get the brau dy higher than his month." Hub, Harry hiuitli has one of thegreut est euriosties you ever saw." " Don't say so—what is it V" " A tree that never sprouts, and which be comes smaller the older it grows." " Well, that is a curiosity. Where did lie get it ?" " From California." " What's the. name of it ?" " Axle-tree 1 It onee belonged to a Cali fornia omnibus." gsj?* " Now, George, yon must divide the cake honors! Iv with your brother Charles." " What is honorable, mother ?" " D menus that YOU must give him the lar gest pieee." " Then, mother. I'd rather that Charley should divide it." Why is the inside of everything mini telligilile ? lb cause we i sn't make it out. U 'Hold your jaw," a., the man said when bis I tend was in the lion's mouth. \ i HI*I I break mv !k. irt," as th" *lak -aid fo th- hatchet