McCollum IC (6trritson, Proprittors. AUTUMN. FEOX "RUE DISLIIIESITED, A MIANA." B - Y S. W W.T. Hail, lovely Autumn! thee of 'seasons all That end the roliug year, I most adore. At Thyapproath, Pornonia smiling comes, And pours her bounteous horn Th' husbandman, With joy, beholds a meet reward for all His toil. Plenty reigns not here, but would, bad England% marshaled hordes, for deeds of foulest Wrong surpassing e'en the Hoeft and Hun of Old, °e'er vezed•these sunny shores; ne'er seat. tered Devastation c ivoe and. death o'er Georgia's Fair dninain ; ne'er forced oar gallant soup to Leave th'. soil untitled, their homes and friends forsake, And fight th' batt'es of the free.* How balmy Is.thecooling south disporting 'mid the Serried grove, and toying with thetcrimson Lessestibrat - aasble o'er thwrosuret !Swell The Atainglrearena glow ;ith tints which rival In voluptuous hues Italia's , Skies. With what luxurious robes of !Purple and of gold Sol drapes the &cling lacer, as.toward his ocean couch he igirels his Finding earl- •Loveiy scene! transporfiog to The soul that Nrure's inspiration feels! Ay,.magnifieently grand, beyond all Power of portraiture with tongue or pen, Are the Creator's work's, that fill the pensive, Cultured soul with love fpr Him who out of Chaos *peke th'wondrotis globe, adorned it With such multifarious charms, and sent It forth to run, in ceaseless gyro, 'mid kindred Spheres, around th' throne of everlasting light. lb/Maier, is made to the period of our revo lutionary strur,gle. NOTHING TO P. 4 Y. -Nothing to wear and nothing to eat „ Are nothing at all to shinning the street— There's nothing worth singing at this time of day ", Bat the glorious freedom of *Nothing to Pay." Ify friend round , the corner, you see by his look. h compelled to take care of both sides of the book ; While his neighbor next door is so radiant and gay - Ton may bet on your life he -has "Nothing to Pay." John Smith in his office sits calm and sedate; The wave has submerged him, he yields to his fate: his notes hare lain over, they'er out of the way;_ 'For same time, at least be has " Nothing% to Pay." Tim Noolan, his porter from over the sea, is as free from all care as a lark or a bee; Tim blesses the gods, as he moistens his clay, That unlike employers, he's " Nothing to Pay." The school boy who sighs for the beard of a • man, And to be isnurEsnErrr as soon as he ran, May comfort himself that, what'er the delay, Until twenty-one be has "Nothing to Pay." The , maiden who weeps fee the false one that's gone ; And left her deserted, 4tisaadresed, ilono, Ms this consolatiero...tbcnigh lovers will stray, Lovely damsels, unlike then, hare " Nothing to Pay." ' The4oldier who gone to the .land of the sun To fight against Sepoys erilietnows—al noe— ls ineki at least, as he comes froia the fray • Minns arms. minus legW, that be's `Nothing to Pay." The"panimr in poor bout, who lives without Provided with food and velment to wear, - May chuckle once more,. that while others de. fray His erpeosee; itelonly ', Nothing to Pai.”, Bata 'truce to all jeitiiig—ifm,atters don't mend Very soon, Hessen only know* where they will end—: But this much is eertain—there will be in the Bay 1 / 4 . State (perhaps there's alfeady) the "Devil to ..• Pay." B P. From the New York Evening Post. PANIC POETRY. THE EAT OF TICE DERECTOOL. Respectfully. Dedicate d to the Directors of the R. R. C o,e by a Fleamized Stock. holder. Who, when th&:timea were good and bright, And apeAlationliit its height; Made Railroad sham appear all right? Directors Who, when my money was paid in, Aunred me - that the road,Must win A large per centag on the " tin r Wh 3 made the cost increase so tact, And shared in contracts long-and Test, An&fdled their poekski to the lases Who flattered me with hopes of gains \‘ From "branches" "airAinen," trains , " And"feeders," Wading to the mains? Directors. Who, when the chine* seemed rather blue FOr dividends and earnings ton, - "Cooked" the accounts to make them "de?" Directors, Who know the arta of financionl, And charge fat fees as eodorserb, And tork at pleaatue, 4 ' bulls,' or "bears?* • Who when grave doubts arise in this, Seek lands "where ignormnea is Miss." : And think large " sella" there not amiss r Who swell the load-of Boating debts, And set alLsorut of traps and nets, i Who catch theyublie with their frets - = ' • Dirttore. Whom should stockholders' gourd with care, Lest they be cheated'" hide imd hair," • Aod all their hopes prove empty air, • An Old;Baohelor'stollioqny. "PArree, CLervart. l'arrEn. Ohl dear me, what shall I ado!" said a di , .ccinsolate old bachelor, to himself as be raised his - drooping eyes toward heaven and despairingly throwing himself down in hi , old aim chair, which fell to him as his portion from Lis great-grand sire's estate. " Here it has been raining these two long days and nights, and everything looks frowningly upon me,a poor old bachelor, doomed to live and die unknown." Walking up to the mantle-piece he takes down a hag mint of a looking-glass; be then takes a survey of his face which has been long neglec ted: "Firstly;my hair it considerably gray,wlll I can get me a sleety wig by going a few miles, and I'm sure that will, make me look ten years younger; then there is my fore head, that will betray me, but I can get some powder (not gun-powder) such as the ladies use, which will cost me but little or nothing. on't that be complete! Yes. 11l try my luck- again, I'll fool some pretty' young 'damsel—see, when shall 4 start r As theys words fell from his lips,' his great mouth opened, and to his surprise, not a toollh to be seen. Shocking! it was too much for his feeble frame- 1 again he sank back into his old armed-chair. "No, not give it un— til go to the dentist this,.day and get me a whole set of pearl-whi;e feetb."; So saying lie takes doin his hat and bU'itons up Lis coat; at the same time looking wistfully at his old friend—his walking stick—but that won't desso he'walks joyfullyaway,intending to return in the morning apparently a young man about twenty five. Soft were the rays of the risingaun that threw their gal-like tints around the lone domicil of the Old Bachelor. With much difficulity the little gate at the lower end of the garden opens—a tall,graceful and apparently young man emerges from the dense thicket, which has been known for many years only as the haunts of an unknown Old Bachelor. With a light heart -and , an elastic step he soon reaches his home in safety: Again he is seated in his old arm-chair; how beautiful everything looks to him now. The birds never sang so sweetly, the little modest flow. ers which have long been unnoticed—now tone escaped his observation. " But,'", says he to himself, "no time is to be lost. Well, let's see who shall have the honor of claiming this hand; there is 'Squire lliggings. he has several daughters, but Mina is the youngest, not over fifteen, then the is such a sprightly girl, just the one to keep off the blues—ye., Mini it shall be—kings erivy me of my pretty little ife." Thus ran the Old Bachelor's thoughts. To-eight I will again set - out to seek happiness—yes, bliss, if I am so fortunate as to get Mina for my wife. All she will have to say is to whisper that title word, vzs, softly in my ear. .Is is not quite time yet," says our bachelor soliloquizing, " I shall pass off much more briHantly in the evening." Slowly the sun sank lingering in the west. Now a star peeps forth fiom behind the curtained ski, now another and another, now the whole heaven is bespangled, sparkling like so -many diamonds, now Luna . looks down smiling, doing her part of making the heart of our Bachelor happy. "It is time," says Le, closing the. door e ---a few Ainute's walk arid. he finds himself at the door 'of a stately mansion,—his heart fails. "Can 1 I can I! yes, I can.' Ile rings the bell, s -a servant appears and-invites , him into a beau tiful room brilliantly lightetand every thing speaks of wealth and splendor. Our Bachelor is taken with a slight cough, but soon musters courage enough to ask if Miss Mina is at home—the servant replies, she is; would yon -like to:see her! he coughs violently and re plies that be would. The servant leaves the room and soon a young and blushing girl en ters. Mr. Bachelor introduces himself as a merchant_ from New York. Miss Mimi is much pleased with the stranger's appearance. and time glides very pleasantly away until the clock strikes twelve! Mr. Bachelor whis pers in her ear,.and Mina blushing says yes; be 'grasps her delicate little Land that lies listlessly by her side, imprints a kiss on her rosy cheek, reminds her of to-morrow eve, and they part._ The bachelor soon arrivettat his lonely home, and again surveys- himself in the glass; scarcely realizing that Le is the sires being as yesterday, and again takes bit Old arm chair, but is scarcely seated el* be is sleeping. And such a sweet:sleep. A little fairy form with laughing eyes and rosy cheeks dances lightly up to his side, takes off his wig, and washes histice. . Mina . you rogue, is it you! She laughs, and dances 'merrily away. A terrible squall from his half starved cat awakes him. Well upon my Ward I bare had a strange dream, says the. bachelor, but thank my stars there aint a word of truth in it. Slowly the day rolls away with the bach= elor, but the evening shades find him at the door of the stately mansion; be is about 40 step upon the threshold alien he bears voices . in the arbor beneath, and Mina's clear tansi es! voice rings out upon the evening air. Ile leans against the -lattice for support; fresh 'breeze sweeps by and fans brow, and with renewed strength be rings the . The servant appears andinvites liar into the brill , iantlylighted porn. Everything looks fa , miliar, but Where is. Mina,_he eagerly inquires. Why intent ye beard f a 'pretty young me; chan4wonsltlew York arrived to-night'. and they have gene out walking. no( sits old friend of heti,' and I gneria"..they will step,' off brand-by. The bachelor waited to hear no more,but tied, he 'knew Atir eared' not whit her. Ars. Fatigue' 404' ready' Ili - sink ivisli::_detai;;., Directors Directors. Directors: Directors. " WE ABE ALL EQUAL BEFORE GOD AND THE CONaI'WITIUTION.".....jaines Montrose, SusquOanna Conntg, fenn'a, Ttursttap e Darning, Robrinber 5, 1857. he stopped at an Inn by the wayside and as ked for lodging for the night. In the morn ing-might have been seen, an old man leaning upon a staff. Stmogers passing paused to look at his.pale dejected Countenance, and learn his history. Be was the disconsolate Old Bachelor. Be totteted about a few day; apparently just on the borders of the rave, and finally disappeared—none knew or cared whither. And now young men take warning by the fate of the old bachelor—don't wait till your heads are silvered o'er with age, your face needs powdering, and you become toothless, but arouse from your slumbers in your youth ful dais. isr, DILL. THE HOMESTEAD. "How dear to My heart are the scenes of my childhood." How sacred the recollections that eltwer at :rand the snot where we were' born--; he spot where we ti rr: learned to look upon the beau t es of nartve--tbe green swwti— he waving corn—the sta.ely tree—and the little, clear bulding spring at its toot, from which,dti.ing lire long, long dAra of *rummer school, we slaked our ; or sought a short-relief from the, tiresome, sirst;glit , batleil school house bench; the rinp;ing brook, with its grate bank, and speckled trout, and liulo falls Ora: turned the tiny wheel. • The place where we 6 , 4 chased tire grty butte:fly and timid " chipmunc ;" where firm. we . tangled the grass of the mower by search; ing fur the delicioui strawberry, and where first Otte plucked the bright tempting cher rr, the tumult peach, the dainty pear, and are always enduring and ever glitefal apple. Where, with brother' and sisters, and little visiting friend*, we had our playirouses--our ovens, of sand—our acorn cups •and Bailees, and plates of broken china, and made the miusture stately calls and formal tea parties; and with what stately stride we imita;e4 the walk of our elders in doing it; where we play ed " keep• whool" and "preach." and anon with bard-back blossoms or cockerel's fea.ber in, our calla, we strutted forth, the embryo defenders of our country's tights, the volunteeis. Tie place where first we learned to linen to the rapturous notes of the free happy or chard melodist—tbe robin and her ns..-cLiates —to the chattering ssr.llow, and the plaint; ve s hippoorwi 11. 1 tie place Where first we learned to lisp be names of ater and mo•her; and to ut er the fi at pure sentiment‘ of laternal love or brother. and for "lister dear." But above all, and more than nil, ti'e a lero tlic hol y love of mo:ber tatylit infant tongue to rerete, and onr ini;nt to p•ay,"Oui FA:Le-, who art in Heaven_ how itcitocely and indissoluble con owed wi b, how wholly enshrined upon, the spot a Leie we were born—the old homestead —ate all tet_ol.ection of the pure go-ling joys of early yea.s! And who, in af.er life, can •ee a stranger lord of that manor, wirh oot a pang of so: row I Who would not tLeu feel that +such liasseasion is Fac ri I igi ouzil "Give, Oh, give me back my boiiie, iltiv own dear home." WHAT 11 . ;. NEWSPAPER DOES FOR NOTHING. —The follorajog article should be read and pondered well by '"every Man that takes a newspsper.without paying for it. The res ult ofroY:ebservation enables me to state, as a fact, that the I publishers of news papers are more poorly rewarded titan' any class of men in the United States, who invest an equal amount of labor, capital and tbo't. They are expected to du more service for less pay, to stand more si ontirg and . "dead beading," to puff anti defend more people without fee or reward, than ony other class. They credit wider and longer; get oftener cheated ; suffer more pecuniary loss; are of tener-de victims of misplaced confidence than any other ailing in the community. People pay a priqter's bill' more reluctantly than any other. Ittoes harder' with them to expend . a dollar on a valuable newspaper than ten on a valueless gewgaw; vet everybody aesils himself of the use of the editor's, pen and printer's ink. flow many professional and political- repu. tations and fortunes have been made and sustained by the friendly, though unreqnitted pen of the editor I How many embryo towns and cities !wive been brought into notice, and puffed into prosperity by tbe press ! flow tunny reiltrinis now in successful operation, would have fmndered but for the assistance of the "lever that moves the world ;' in abort, what branch of industry. or activity has not been promoted, stimulated by the press! And who has tendered it more than a mis erable pittance for its mighty services? The bazars of fashion and the haunts of appetite and dissipation are thronged with an eag er crowd, barit , gold in their palms, and the commodities there needed are sold at enor mous profits, though intrinsically . Worthies; and paid for with scrupulous ' ' punctuality ; while the counting room of di" newspaper is the seat of jewing, cheapening, trades, orders and pennies. It is made a point . Of honor to liquidate $ grog bill but not of dishonor to repudiate a printer's bill. STOPPING A Talan,—We remember an in cident that actually occurred on the Boston, Concord and Montreal Railroad in New Ham s'ilre,_a few Tears since. One day the engin. eer of a down train RAW a wagon on -the track atone of the crossings, and in it an old lady who was waiving, her checked apron and gesticulating violently. Stippming some thing was wrong he signalled urgently to break .ap", and barely succeeded in stopping the train before it reached the crossing. The engineer hardly yet,recovered from his ire. pidation, demanded of the old lady what was the matter I But she wanted to se* the con ductorsnd upon his Making , his ieppeanince under cousidentble excitementAhe asked him ' If there was apybodrou'ihri train who wanted to buy, seine blueberries t _Pie feelings of r; the conduCtoalheit - 4 very good natured main. may be better imagined titan described. The train was on time when it reached Con co rd.-:-.Bosion%touraot. - • jar Before marriage, a arum is very much ittivek'iritli the woman, and Afterward , the Omit I,rery mUch struck: by the sum. Pinch pime_cif b*rets all ttirpagt. . CON OICEEPE `AND THE GOLDEN CUP. BY R. SHELTON MACKENZIE. In Ireland, as in Scotland, among the low er ordets, there is a ptevalent belief in the ex istent e, and isupetnaturalrowers of the gen try commonly called "farie.,"_ liany and strange are the stories told of this . misterious and much dreaded race of beings. Loud and frequent have been the exclamations of surprise, and even anger, at the hard 4.rAu lity which made me ref Use, when twas young, to credit eit i tl'at was narrred of the won derful feats Of Dish faties—the moat frolick some of the entire genus. The more my dis belief wan manifested, the more wonderful were the legends which were launched at me to overthrow my unlucky and matter-of fact obstinacy. I have forgotten many of the traditions which were thus made familiar to me in my boyhood, but my memory retains auffiuient to convince me to what improbabilities Supersti tion clang—ands the more wonderful the sto ry, the more implicit the belief. But in such ca-es ;he fanatici-m was harmless,--it was of the head rather than of the I estt--of the im arrinalion rather than the rea-on. It would be et foc.unate if all superstitions did as little mis chief as Ws. It i• deeply to lie lamented that the mat lec-of-factednektrOf the Anterieans is not sub dued or mod.fied by any--even the slightest —belief in the old wood supentitions of whi t .li I ,peal:. Of fitlykoe they 'cannot, and they do not, possess the slightest item. They read of it, as if it were legendary, but noclicng mote. They feel it:not—they know i.--;hey are ale-eft:ire, dceadfuily actual. So much the wnr-e for them. Baying imbibed a sovelign contempt for the wild and wonderful ttadrzions which-mid been duty accied.ted in t neightco.hood, time ran of mind, I .never was particulatly clnyy in expres,.ing such contempt at every oppc r unity. Woen the mind of a boy sows • above the ignorance which: be-et; e!clets nan infetior station, who have had neither the chance nor the - desire of being enlrghien ed, he is' apt to pride hint-elf, as Id d ,on the " march of intelect" which has placed him superior to their credulity. Ninny years have passed since I happened tobe a temporary visitor beneath. the hospit able roof of one-of the better tort of farm( rs, io the county of Coik, during the .Midsummer bulid s. As usual, I there indulged in sar casm against the credulity of-the country.— Oue evening in particular, I was not a little tenacious in laughing at the very existence of "the frsily folk;" and as sometimes happens, tidreule acoomplirdied more than argument could bare rtfected. My hosts could bear anything in the way of argument—at least of argument such as mine—they eould even suf fer their favorite legends aril theories about the fairies to be abused; but to laugh, at them—chat was an act of unkiLdness which goi.e passed their comprebension, and griev iously taxed their pa:ience. My host was quite in despair, and almoit in angel at my boisb jokes upon his fairy legends, n hen the village schoolmaster came in, an uninvited but most welcome guest. A chair was soon provided for km in thewaim et-coiner—wir4ey was immediately on the the table, and the schoolmaster, who was a pretty constant votary to Bacchus,. lost no time in making himself acquainted with its flavor. spot our bp: I bad often seen bini before. He combined in his character a mixture of shrewdness and simplicity ; was a most excelent mathemati.. cian and a good clas-ical scholar—hut of the world he knew next to nothing. Frcro youth to age had been spent within the limits of the over which, cane in hand, he bad pre sided for more then a quarter of a century-;---- at once a telcber and an oracle I He was imbued with a belief of the superstitions of the district, but was more especially familiar with the wild legends of the rocky glen (the defile bear Kilwortb, commonly called Arag lin, once' faMons for the extent of elicit distil lation carried on there.) in which he bad pas sed awaY his , u , efully but, humbly employ. ed. •To this eccentric characeter my host tri umphantly appealed for proof respecting the existencti'and vagaries of the fairies. He wasted DO time in argument., bu?,glancing triumph. aptly around, declared that be would con vert. Me by a barticulirly well-attested story. Draining his tumbler, and incontinently iag anokher, Mr. Pairick McCann plunged at once into the heart of his narration, as fol lows t " You know the high .hill that overlooks the town at Fermori Handsome and thriv ing place as it now is, I remember the time when there were only two houses in that town, one of them was then in course of buil ding Well, there lived on the other side Corran Thietna (the mountain in question ; though Corrig is the true name) one of the Barrys, a gentleman who was born rich and good. I wish-we had mole of the stamp scow us now—'tis little the Whiteboys or IlibTnmen wopld trouble the country then,. Ile had a fine fortnne,.kept up a fine house, and lived at a dashing.tate. - It does not matter, here nor there, LOw many servants he had ; but I mention them, because one of them was a very remarkable fellow. His equal was not to he bad, far or near for' love nor money. "This servant was called Con O'Keefe.— He was a crabbed littlexcraa,. with a face the very color and texture of old parchment, and he had lived in the family time out of mind. He was such a small, dwarfi