-asp
Fntkt Agiuar.
CLIII A.
BT 1. UOlf.
A •£»«>*,fliU, ipi deep and low,. . ~ .
' LilmUiO Wft •pirttdf » dnutt,' L .■'
A ToicdaM rigfa u beard. How oJm, '
' , -Bn! ArtlAtiwW to
■ -
* >1 llieif w»Wh 'lit pftwwfed Bedd. ;
■v: >,'!,(* Ok *tort W»pittrtle*,i "
anead ~ ,
Upon (be alaipfea* amur,fl»ke’» breast,
7bv fflro M aMde.jUialJorvtnj preaa
Upon thypnrt brdw’rßarfsn while,
To show, e’en-in it* perfectness, -
TJion artless pftw tiansylph* of light 7
AndtlpU low sigh, scares heard ebon - -
' The tendering fairy's nmmmnlig tone
That grieve* for unrequited lore,
- .A*-tithetwilightinardooe,. ■ '■
, • Bha pith upon the tinytof
, . And *igh», apd wee pa her pearly leva,
And pour* cdmpUimngly her grief
Into the Zephyrt fending ear*—
■ • ’ dta it'thi dreaming tptrft’ssleh,
■ A* o’er the gulden field*-of light
.It wander*-where the eternal* lie,
And spttkle on the hrowaf fyigbt 7
•Or, 1* ’t the drtim pf those lone hoar*
That in the fhtore. gentle'one,-'
£,en 'miiitbo fiireatof earth's bower, .
Like lwillght, when the day i* done,
Way o’er thy tout their shadow* flingj .
and'deepening a* they Sow,
TTlll, in thy spirit’s sorrowing,
Tboc'll link beneath thy weight cf woe 7
Ot ieH the yearning sigh for lore,
Mow, germ-like in thy infant breast,
for vine dad bower and leafy grove,
AnJ Cupids to thy bosom prest 7
Sweet child*. J** hwf »f lore is thine,
ieafy dad green .»M foil of bloom.
Where tendrils gently ronuf? thee twine.
And flowerets yield thee rich pe’Auae,
Bat buwers beyond the star gemmed shy.
Where lore shall live and glow forever,
Noftrust grow cool, nor anguish sigh,
Nor bliss be lost, aor friendship sorer,
Are wailing thee my child; o’pn now
The angel’s wing is Battering algb,
And casts its shadow o'er thy brow, '
Wailing to bear'thee to the sky.
And thou art for tho ambrosial bowers,
Too pare for earth, my stricken one—
Heaven culls the Surest of earth's flower*,'
And plants them round bis shining throne.
SELECT MISCtLLAM.
FilfPEßlSilL
THE CAUSE AHD A HEXED?.
Vh, Riddle Any ooe who will observe
must see lhat tb e poor are crowded into cit
ies, which they are very unwilling to leave
—(hat our lands are uncultivated wastes,
while the hands that should make them blos
som as the rose, are learning the arts of pau
perism and crime in unwholesome dens and
caves of the earthra dirty alleys where
sun-light, pure air and greeo%rass are sup
plied in homoeopathic quantities, or totally
forbidden. There must be some great under
lying cause Tor this; a cause outside the in
dividual dwellers in such places. It is not
man’s natural propensities which induce him
to build and crowd into great cities, those
great ulcers on the bosom of mother earth,
for man in a state of nature never commits
such a blunder. When the earth is free to
all, people distribute themseh-e over it, aod
enjoy the common blessings of nature.—
It is not until civilization has made large ad
vancea that light, air and tamin' twenrnn
pensive commodities. It is not until the land
becomes monopolized by a part of mankind
that the rest are crowded into a given number
of square inches of space ; aod to my mind
nothing is plainer than lhat the great remedy
for city pauperism is land limitation—a law
which shall limit the number of acres any
one man may own to the number one family
may be able to till. So long as thousands of
acres of land in the immediate vicinity of
large cities shall lie waste, and all occupa
tion or cultivation of them be prevented by
the avarice of a few owners, »o long must
these cities be cursed with crowded alleys,
pauperism and crime. I
As 1 have already stated facts to show that
the poor cannot be driven out of your city,
even by the prospect of starvation, nor coaxed
bv wanes on the terms usually offered, it is
but fair to say that the fault is not wholly
theirs, They are first driven into the city,
and having acquired its habits, cannot reason
ably be exacted to break them all up with
out a great effort.
hi the coarse of our first year of farming
experience, I discoveied the causa of the uni
versal trouble about girls, and since that lime
have had no diffiuclly. Ido not know how
it is in other states, but in this, there is a dole
ful lock of agricultural laborers, especially
m the domestic department, and in looking
for the cause I take into account that Penn
sylvania was principally settled by Germans
and Irish. As it is scripture wisdom to look
01 the rock from whence we were hewn, and
dhe hole of the pit from whence we were
digged, let us recall the Dutchman—by no
means a myth—who thought the pretended
freedom of this country all a humbug be
cause a man could not whip his own wife. —
Wo have a neighbor who was lately clearing
a piece of ground on the aide of a steep hill.
A German resident inquired if he would plow
ill . . • „
"Oh nowas the answer, “it is 100 steep.
“Oh, by shure we plow that in Germa
ny.”
“Plow that I Why man, a horse could
not walk on it! How would you plow
it 7" ,■
“MU vomans!’ 1 was the-sturdy response.
“With women, Charley!” exclaimed the
owner of Jbe tillable land, doubling his hav
ing heard aright.
“Ofi yes, hitch eight vomans in; they blow
dal very goot.”
While the Pennsylvania Railroad was in
course of grading, some Irish lived in a shan
ty near. The women carried all the coal
used, from the pit a rode distant. ■ The own
er of the coal told one of the husbands to
bring his cart and draw coal for his family.
“An’ be mo faith, an’ what would she have
to do thiol" was the reply.
These are extreme cates of the spirit of our
ancestors, but 1 assure you, sir, the blood has
net run out in the did Keystone State, as you
will see at once by referring to pat laws which
declare a man’s title' to the services of bis
wile, end enable him to collect her wages,!—
lo the cities the peculir marks are fast wear
ing out; but in the rural districts,, the old
sturdy German spirit which 1 bitches “de vo
mans in de blow” is still very precepjtable in
Us workings. From all hare
been able to make. It is my firm conviction
; -vi,;
* >il'. h
r;..
COBB, STCRrOCK i CO;.’ "
VOL. L
that, on an average, each Pennsylvania far
mer's wifedpes as ranch drudgery ns three
house'servants in any slave State in this On-
It is a ter; common thing Tor a woman to
milk from five to night, cows, prepare all the
soft feed the; g# and .givo .it to them—the
men throw down the fodder and sometimes
help loohuro.* She lakes care , of the milk
and makes the butter, enough generally for
family use and to buy what groceries are
wanted. She, takes care of the poultry, feeds
the lambs, makes and works whatever gar
den is made.and worked, except perhaps, the
digging, and perhapd*sbe does that too.—
Then, she makes and mends and washes all
the clothing for the family, and cooks all the
food. She knits all the. stockipgs and' darns
them sews on all the buttons, and, oiler a
fashion, does the work of three or four peo
ple In sickness or health, in fair- weather
or font, her toil goes on without intermission.
Sleepless babies at night must not interrupt
early breakfast in the morning; and cows
must be milked before fly-lime, despite head
aches or crying children. As to paying a
nurse for taking charge of a newly-arrived
baby and its mother for one, two or tljree
weeks, I never knew of but two instances of
the kind in all the rural districts; and in these,
sympathising friends not a few, thought the
ill-used husbands bad ample causa for di
vorce, although they themselves had got so
many removes from the plowing women as to
bear with the whim pretty patiently. The
husband who provides a girl at one dollar, or
one dollar and twelve and a half cents per
week, for three or four weeks, to do all the
work of the family and look alter wife and
baby, has done all that public opinion requi
res of him.
True, it is not always good economy, for
instances of long illness, fretful children, con
firmed ill health, or heavy' doctor’s bills, are
not uncommon results ; but these are provi
dential evictions. As a consequence of this
system, a farmer's wife generally forgets how
to write her own name by the time she is ten
years married, and two years from the wed
ding day would not undertake to write a let
ter to her nearest friend except on a great
emergency.
How women thus situated can be fit to
train children, is a question which answers
itself; but that thousands of women are so
situated, in this state, every body rtiay know
by opening bis eyes, and this while tbou
sundavbf ponr women are suffering (or want
of vtoih, naa uer force, to hecnmn
paupers.
The remedy for both evils is for each Penn
sylvania farmer to become ashamed of requir
ing from his wile as much work ns any hu
mane South Carolina planter would exact of
two stout wenches. Then, let him build a
widow’s collage within sight and call of his
kitchen door, appropriate an acre of his poor
ly cultivated land to the special use of the oc
cupant, plant half a dozen fruit trees on it,
a few currant and rose bushes, a grape and
Itop vine, whitewash it nicely, put up a hen
house four feet square, no matter how rough,
raake.a cave of (ike dimensions, and give
the whole a nice home-look ; then go to the
city and hunt up a decent widow, with a fam
ily, rent her the house and ground for ten or
twelve dollars a year, and engage to give her
and her children work, i
The entire improvement Could bo made for
one hundred dollars ; and ten dollars a year
would pay a very good interest on it and the
y aljie of the ground. It would be a sure in
vestment. Or it would be as safe as money
“leA at the broker’s.”
As many may doubt that a house can be
built for so little, let me give some description.
When logs are plenty and convenient, it is my
impression a snug little house sixteen or eigh
teen feet square could be put up and made
comfortable for fees than one hundred doll
ars ; but when they are not to be had, ordi
nary laboring men can build a nice liue board
house by placing four sleepers on stone tests
nail boards to these, upright, .first at the cor
ners i have scantling of lengths to correspond
to the sleepers j fix them seven feel above by
props until the top ends of the boards are
made last to them, when the 1 prime difficulty
of the building process is over. Side it up
with boards running up and down, nail strips
over the cracks outside and in; lath to the
inner strips and put on one coat of plaster as
smoothly as possible, which will make it Close
enough. Let the front and back wall bo sev
en feet high ; fix cross ties half way up the
roof for the ceiling, and the room will be high
enough for comfort and health. The' cheap
est and most suitable roof is of rough floor
ing boards, the grooves filled with a mixture
of iwo-tbirds coal tar and one third linseed
oil, giving the whole a thorough coating after
it is put on, and sprinkling it thickly with
sand.' By, having the reof extend’’over one
fool 6t eighteen inches, and putting brackets
under, making a window and door-in front, a
window in one gable with a hood ■ over it,- a
chimney in the other, a door St the other side
with a little rough perch over one "for both
doors, the outside whitwashed and at We part-
ly shading .it, a house of sxteeo : or eighteen
leet square, would be pretty andattractive.—
With the little'hen house, barb and ad 1 oven
OfCal and 'clay,'’ its young fruit trees, truck
patbh, bushes and green, a ward, it would be a
paradise compared to the rooms occupied by
the poor id farge cities. ; Then the .labor of
ihe iOmatCs’, if, well directed, would hie a Wes.
sing to a farjnet, that dollars and cents wilt
not cortipiite,
A decent widow woman Within call to come
in odd do "chores,” where she cpiild. look
(Mitabd oee r that all was Well about her own
domicil, would be a valuable acquisition to the
over-taxed farmer’s wife; .while little boys
and .'gifts would be a greanttsiatanoe
farmelr in bpxn planting, fruit 'pteWogiTltSelo
nn TT
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WBUSBOSOWH, TIOGA
C.):
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1 I.'!m
“■THE; AMTATIO^'j
tK’ £
weeding and
ihg, (Sfr/ibd-gdibg, anij Vsribtos olbef 'mater#,
Thm a 'closs pt laborers wouli
begji# -'’w •''-"mijitV nof
dila
Cases lilce the ooe l amabout to relate are
pouch tpofrequent io our country, and they
•re such* too ns should be guarded against by
all who have an interest in education. The in*
cident was brought lomindby hearings com*
plaint made by the parent ofa poor boy, who
had been grossly neglected by the teacher of
the village school. Neglected because he was
poor and comparatively friendless (
Many years ago when I w«aa small boy,
I attended school in ihetown of —Amoef;
the scholars tbers'was a boy named George
Henry. His father was a poor drinking man,
and the unfortunate boy had to suffer in con
sequence. George came to school habited in
ragged they word the best he
had; he wasltmgh and uncouth io his man
ners, for he had Seen brought bp in this man
ner ; be was very Ignorant, for he had no op
portunity for education.
Season.. aAer season, poor George Henry
occupied (he same seat in (he school room, it
was a back corner seat away from the other
scholars—and there he thumbed bis tattered
primer. The ragged condition of his garb
gave a homely cast to bis whole appearance,
and what of intelligence there might have
been in his countenance, was beclouded by
the outer covering of the boy. He seldom
played with the other children, for they
seemed to shun him; -but when he did, for a
while, join with them in (heir sports, he was
so rough that be was soon shoved off out of
the way.
The teacher passed the boy coldly in the
street, white other boys, in better garbs, were
kindly noticed. In (be school young Henry
was coldly treated. The teacher neglected
him, and then called him an idle blockhead,
because be did not learn. The boy received
no incentive to study, and consequently he
was moat of the time idle, and idleness begat
a disposition to while away the time in mis
chief. For this he was whipped, and the
more idle and careless be became. He knew
that he was neglected by the teacher, and
sirriply because he was poor and ragged, and
with a sort of sullen indifference, sharpened
at lime* by feeling of 'bitterness, ho plodded
on bis dark thankless way. . —..wai years. |
Most of the scholars who were of George
Henry’s age, had passed on to higher branch
es of study, while he, poor fellow, still spelled
out words of two syllables, and still kept his
distant seal in the corner. His father had
sunk lower in the pit of inebriation, and the
unfortunate boy was more wretched than
ever.
The look of clownish indifference which
had marked hia countenance, was now giving
way to a shade of unhappy thought and feel
ings, and it was evident that thmgreat turn
ing point of his life was at hand. He stood
now upon the step in life from which the fate
of after years must lake its cast.
At this lime a man by the name of Kelley
look charge of the school. He was an old
teacher, a careful observer of hutnau nature,
and a really good man. Long years of guar
dianship over wild youths had given him a
bluff authoritative way, and in his discipline
he was strict and unwavering.
The first day be passed at the teacher’s
desk of our school, was mostly devoted to
watching the movements of the scholars, and
studying the dispositions with which he had
to deal. Dpon George Henry his eyes rested
with a keen, searching glance, but evidently
made little of him the flrst day; but on the
second day he did more. I
It was during the afternoon of the second
day that Mr. Kelley observed young Henry
engaged in impaling flies upon the point of a
largo pin. He went to the boy’s seal and
after reprimanding him for bis idleness,'he
took np the dirty, ta’Uered primer from his
desk. . .
“Have you never learned more than U in
his book?" asked iheteacher.
“No sir," drawled George.
“How long have you attended school t 1 ’
“1 don’t know, sir; It's ever since lean re
member."
“Then you must bo an idle reckless boy,
styd the teacherr with much severity. “Do
you realize how many years you have thrown
away? Do you know how much you have
lost ? What sort of a roan do you intend to
make in this way.? 'One of these days you
will be too old to go to school, and then,
while your companions ore seeking honorable
employment, you will, be good for nothing.
Have you parents."'
“Yea, sir," answered the boy in. a hearth
subdued voice; •’
“Anti do they wlsh you to grow op ah ig
norant worthless roan ?" '' '■
. The boy had bong down bi» head and .was
silent | but Mr. Kelley saw two great tears
; toll down bis cheeks. In an instant the teach
er saw that he bad something besides an idle
atnbborn roiodtO deal with in the ragged
scholar before 1 him. Be laid bis hand on the
boy’s head, and id a kind too* he said.
“[ wish ybu"to stop after school is dismis
sed.- Do not bo afraid for I wish to assist
you'if 1 cdn." 11 ■
’ George looked wonderingly into the mas* ■
ler’i'facei for there was something in ,the tone 1
of the voice which foil upon his ear that aoun
ded strattgely; tb him and ha thought, (00, as
he looked' around that tbeTrest of the schol
ars-: regarded him with kjpder countenances
than usual: A r dim'drought broke in upon
bis mind, that from cause, he was going
to bo happier 'lhan’before, -4:tWr the school
was 'Haolpy: icmainbd in.
V" rsv^/vr
.w! ,V% i.’l ilnir:- iT.
•L*r rt'tri} *||
*** ?' • \ '.’•’i' P'j'wti: '''fill r "ti'"f "<1 -1'- ,• .!■
>vinavam wwsoqituiia, 0?
iUTO PA., IHpSDAT MOBMNG. IfABCH m m
' ;■ --'f -”* - I
'B
■•' yi ;;■
M'-V
I V'i
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1 * ':tTU
fii
bis him lobia deski
NoW, said MrKel)y,“f>rth tofcoowwhy
it is'(bat you base never learned ariy more.
Ybu look bright, ahdloOk aslboogh you
might make? a smnrtimari. Whyis jt that I
find you So ignorant ?’ 1 , 7
“Because nobodyeverhelps me.replied the
boy., Nobody cates for me, ifor lam "poor,”
By’; degrees the' kind-hearted ” teacher. got
the poor boy’s whole hiaiory, and whilogen
eroua-teara bedewed bis. eyes he said;’ . ,’' "
“You havebeen wronglyjrpaled Gfsorie,
very wrongly; but there h? yet time,for re
demption, , If. rwUl try td teach you, will
you Jry to learn T”
“tea—oh, yes. quickly uttered the hoy.in
earnest tones., Yes—l should love to learn.
I don’t waht tp be a bad boy, be feelingly ad
ded,' while hip countenance glowed with un
wonted animation: "
Ur. Kelleyiproroised to,purchase books for
the boy as fast as he .could learn to read
them, and when George Hear; left the school
room his face was wet with tears. We schol
ars who had remained in the entry saw him
come out, and pur hearts were warmed to
wards him. We spoke kindly to him, and
walked with him to his house, and his heart
was too full for utterance:
On the next day, George. Henry commen
ced studying in good reamest, and the teach
er helped him faithfully. Never did T see a
change so radiant and sudden as that which
took place in the habits of the poor boy.
As boo a as the teacher treated him with
kindness and reapectj the scholars followed
the example, and the result was, they found
in the unfortunate youth one of the most no
ble hearted, generous and truthful playmates
in the world.
Long years have passed since those school
boy days. George Henry has, become a
man of middle age, and in all .the country
(here is not a man more beloved and respect
ed than he is. And all is the result of one
teacher having done hjs duty. I
You who are school-teachers wcmember
(he responsibility that devolves upmiyou. In
this country of free schools, there should be
no distinction between classes. All are alike
entitled to your carej and counsel, and the
more weak the chiltl the mqre earnest should
be your endeavors to lift him up.and aid him.
Fashion In Old Times.
New England al the trying period to which it
relates:
Late in the after noon of one of the last
days in Mav, ’79, when I was a few months
short of fifteen years old, notice came to
Townsend, Mass., where my father used to
live, that fifteen soldiers were wonted.
. The training band was instantly called out,
and my brother next older than myself, was
one that was selected. He did not return till
late at night, when all were in bed. When
■I arose in the morning, I found my mother in
tears, who informed me that brother John-was
to march the day after to-morrow, at sunrise.
My father was at Boston, in the Assembly.
Mother said that though John was supplied
with summer clothes, he must be away seven
or eight months, and must suffer for want of
winter garments. There was at this lime no
store and no articles to be had, except such
as each family would make itself. The sight
of a mother’s tear always brought alt the hid.
den strength of the mind to action. 1 imme
diately asked her what garments were need-,
ed. She replied, “pantaloons.”
“Oh! if that is all,” said I, “we will spin
and weave him a pair before he gbes.”
“But,” said my mother, '‘the wool is on
the sheep’s back, and the sheep are in the
lasturc."
I immediately turned to a younger brother,
and bade him take a salt-dish and call them
up to the yard.
Mother replied, “poor child, there are no
sheep shears within three miles and a half.”
“I have some small shearsia the loom,”
said I.
“But we can’t spin and weave it in so short
a time.
“ I am certain we can, mother,”
“How can ydu weave it t There is a long
web of linen in the loom.”
“No matter, I tan find on empty loom.”
By this time the sound of the sheep imade
mei quicken my 'Steps towards Che yard. 1
requested my sister to bring roe: the wheel
and caids, while I went for the wool. I went
into the yard with my brother, and secured a
white sheep, from .which I sheared wi|h my
loom shears, half enough for the well: we
then let her go with the rest of the 1
Sent tho wool in with myslsier. Luther ran
for a black sheep, and held hen-whils; I cut
off wool for'my fUUng and half the warp,and
then weallbwed her logo with the remaining
pan of her fleece. ; .
The Wool thus obtained , was duly cafded
and spun, wished,’steed ahd dried $ iUoorti
was found a few' doors off, the web got ,in,
woven sod prepared, out and made (wo ijf
three hours -before .my; departure,
lhat is to say, in forty hpure (Vein the com
mencement, without help from any rr|dderh
improvement. The igood .qld .lady closed bj
saying, “I felt no wept pot—
was serving, roy country ; I wqsassiating ray
poor mother; I was. preparing a garment for,
my darling brother.. , .. .. i.
..The garment, being, finished, I retired and,
wept* till my overcharged anffburstiug heari
waarelieved. . * ■. n ,-i
That brother wai'one 6f Gen.i Stark's Min
diers, and with such a spirittb cope with,:
ncedwoworider that Burgoyne did . not eXe
curt bts threat ofmatching through America;
* 1 1 7* * r Ji ,•
ia.a wJhoolmasrtrbkeafitoU-maker;
Becauta be caneaiflMOßU.'
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iii.
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PUBLISHERS. .& PRpPRT^roES.
* r .v
[l** following beautiful poem !■ (jam tin pea of
air. Wm.R. B**x Of Coming, N. Y n who read a
poem in (hit place a little lime since.- > The great
excellence of this poem consists in its naturalmsi.
There it k charming naitx/q Of 'expression seldom
ihdnlgod in (hit Alexander Smithean tjje. We find
H iff Phtakm for March, io.ifa.] ' ■■
B E SS IS,
BeMs wean a gown of red,
_Ahottiespungown sod apron Utter
Sho baa no bat upon her bead, ,
And her wec brown fist are without • ehoe.
Beaale hashair tthe the sunset's fold,
Arid her, ayes were boro fiora tbs deep bias isc
In their depths is a story told—
Iloro Bessie *«d the lores me.
Bessie's hands are hard with toil.
And her cheeks are dark with the wind and rain;
Bat ber lips aro rich with the rosy spoil,
That if orich I taste, I most taste again.
Bessie hsa'rie’or a silkin gown.
Nor.a crimson hat our a necklace fine,
Bnt she weaves of cowslips s golden crown,
That I’d rather than any queen's, were mine,
Bessie dwells in a lowly col—
A lonely cabin' with trembling walls; '
■Tis old and poor, but she thinks it not,
And lores it better than lordly halls.
She counts the stars as she goes to sleep,
And loves to listen to the pattering song,
That over her bead the rain-drops keep,
1 In the April weather, all nightlong.
Bessie’s step is light as a fawn’s,
And her voice like the chiming of silver bells;
1 hear it oil in the .summer morns.
But 1 dare not whisper what it tells!
Lingering and dying round my heart,
Ever and ever its echoes be; ■
Who shall diride us, or what shall part 1
I.lore Bessie and she loves me.
Origin of Silk.
Id the early stage of the Christian era, the
inhabitants of the little island of Coos, in the
jEgean, near the coast of Africa, were ac
customed to manufacture a species of silk'or
rather a sort of thin gauze, from the web of
a worm, which they fed upon leaves of the
oak, the ash, and the pine trees; and this
Coan manufacture, the invention of a woman,
was tong admired and extensively used, both
in the East and at Rome, tor female dresses.
They were however, after a while superseded
by the Chinese sjlks, which at that early
period were so cosily that but few, compari
lively, could afford to wear them. Aurelian
is said to have complained that a pound of
silk was sold at Rome lor twelve ounces of
gold. The Phoenecian women sdroalimesam.
an intarmnitii-o
than two hundred years after the age of Pli
ny, the use of silks as a garment was entire
ty confined to the female sex ; and it is said
that the Emperor Elagabolus was the first
Roman who, by the adoption of this efferai
nito habit, “sullied the dignity of an Empe
ror and a man."
Silk wag supplied to the Romans by the
agency of the Persians, who id their turn,
procured it, with quantities of aloes, cloves,
nutmegs and sandal wood, from the Chinese
merchants, and conveyed it to their own
country, at first by long, toilsome and dan
gerous journeys in Caravans, and subsequent
ly by vessels which carried on a beneficial
trade between the silk merchants of China
and the inhabitants of the Persian Gulf.
As the use of silk became more arid more
indispeosible to the Romans, the Emperor
Justinian, id (be middle of (ho-,sixth century
seeing with concern that the Persians had se
cured, both by land and sea, the monopoly
of this important supply, and that tho wealtlT
of his subjects was continually drained by a
nation of enemies and idolaters, tried various
expedients'to remedy the difficulty but with-'
out success. Finally two Persian monks, ac
tuated by some stronger impulse than that of
patriotism, and encouraged by the promises
and persuasions of Justinian, penetrated the,
Silk growing country,and concealing a large
number of the eggs, of tho silk worm in a j
hollow cane, succeeded in returning safely {
and in triumph with their spoils. These eggs
were batched by artificial heal, and the worms'
being carefully taken care of, and fed on-mul
berry leaves lived, and labored, and wove
their golden tombs and soon the Roman s
achieved a greater perfection in the art of ed
dealing the insects and manufacturing the
silk than the Chinese Ihemsqlves. Siuceihat
period the culture and manufacture of silk
has never been confined exclusively to any
distinct portion of the earthy but has been en
couraged and practiced whenever end where
evter it could be made profitable. The south
ern countries of Europe, however—France,
Italy and Spain—still retain the supremacy
which they obtained in the sixth century;
and it is from these countries that we now de
rive our finest silks and most costly and'lux
urious laced. —Boston Journal.
Qdbbr Dodge. —lt his been discovered
tbtfl the keeper of a larger beer collar in /be
Bowerf, New York, for the purpose of eva
ding the law requiring him 4o close his place
do Sunday, bits'been in the habit-of holding
pretended religion# services therein, officia-
I (rig himself astho leader of thecefefhonies.
He P takes the Bible, reads a chapter or two,
serves earih of his hearers with a glass'of
beer, and takes up : a collection] As the
Constitution' pfdbably'did not contcmplato'sb
much liberty of consciences, hra arrange
ments will bo interfered with by the pd
lice 1 , ■'
Woman’s RiOßTsPsootAiusD.— Old Chan
ticleer awakes in the morning, flaps his wings,
vociferates (ft the top of his Voice: “ Woman
rilfcs h-e-r-e!” fmrriediatelya - neighboring
rdt&tef OhsWors-ijgSo they do hrt*-e !”
Thia.U 'no soon'Srnitered than a third re
appndi at; a considerable distance—“So theyl
do l’’ In this woman’s fightd
era it is significant ~fot old-ChanlictoQt is a
keen observer! and k'bows, ,
iaii.
. iZ—wH <■■ fit's
• ®°** - oocaa.
i v; r-tbpo on a idtiuoißidfligb,
n* Wi waa notorioustor legyftui balMitruh?
«cmg:iiecwd thirl. iWhile.here j».*M:i£
vited to auead a gay and fashionable patty*
to .ha gtvpDi intbofpllpwiogeyening at the
rwideaca qf Judge „ visiting
Judge war terribly, perplexed,, about andean
end
hit mina how hS ‘should, hirasejf of
tpe (in ihdto days ready sede
shirts'were'npt as now, articles of mbrchan;
dize,) when he wSa. called on hit, bis ',rpdm, by
r * fi-r-- i ranoiher limh of the Jaw.
?ht a Jpdge. ‘ ‘After passing the. usual com*
pliroents, Judge A—— -remarked. . See
hgfC, C—! have just beeo. invited to' a£
tend a petty rigid* ttjtfgiWr'iU a
clean shirt. for the. occasion—hoping,. no
doubt, mat his friend wouM'pWfici l the loan
of one pf his. But being a oft of A wag uid
reliahiog a good amazingly, hft Jw«h
ded to have* little fhh. andAt.tbb'eaibb fttoe
learq his judicial friend a legion concerning
his negligent , (here’*
no difficulty about that, l ean have you One
made. But do you think iVtmn'te'
in time? said Judge A ■■ ■
No doubt about it. I have a shhrtmakor
who is perfectly prompt and reliable, and I
can vouch for its being ready.
All right, then if you’ll be sure and attend
lo it. ' •
)* * * »*v ■'i
.•» -H i
m 37.
You may depend on if, said the. fudge's
friend. ,Il shall be here by half-past six (0-
morrow evening. ■ 1 ' 1 ’ v;
C —, in going homo that night, edited
at (ho lady’s and ordered her to go to $
-’s store, get nine yards of bleached ■
domestics and three yards of linen, and make
a shirt of it for Judge A———, and.deliver
it as bis room, on the following evening, at
half-past six precisely, and charging her par 1 -,
ticularly there was 10l be no disappointment
and not to deliver sooner or later than half
past sir. -
But Mr. B- , expostulated thorns
man, ydumehn three shirts, don’t you, out
Of nine yards!
Do 1 ns 1 tell you, Madam. Don’t you Sup.
pose 1 know what sized shirt is required by
ray friend ?
Early next morning the cloth was procured
and the making of the shirt entered upon—
About six o’clock in the evening, C ,
all altired-and ready for the party called on
the Judge, when he was saluted on his en
trance with—
See here, that shirt has not been sent
yet! ;*•
■Oh 1 says C., pulling out hil-’watch,- it is
not time yet, it lacks a quarter to the time
for I told her to hare it here by half-past
six.
The couple chatted away a while when
prbsently a timid knock at the door was heard.
Judge A. jumped to open it, when a little girl
asked if thatu-aa imw.tv i U |»i ’a room L
make for you. Itlv ‘norharf"
All right, my nice little Miss and straight'
way began to prepare for donning the much
coveted garment, remarking, it is well made'
and handsomely done up, too, Smart wo
man that, Mr. C. f
Oh! yes; I knmv she would not disap
point you in any respect.
By ibis time ihe Judge had commenced
pulling it over him. Ho pulled, aad pulled,
as yard alter yard passed, and still bis,(mad
was enveloped in the shirt. Ha complained
of its size, but his friend told him be bad got
Sj twisted, but to hurry ou as 'twas lime they
were at the party. Again he set himself to
tho task,' and by hard struggling got through,
binding himself enshrouded in a shirt hvo
yards long and four yards broad,covering over
all the floor with its ample drapery t
In God's name, said the Judge in astonish
ment What is it this Ibe woman bos sent mel
looking with consternation upon the mon
strous shirt around and beneath him. What
is it 1 say 1
It was with much difficulty that C, could
restrain his laughter, but approaching his
enshirted friend and pulling the huge collar
! down so that he could see his face, be gazed
with apparent wonder, and observed.
What ft silly, stupid woman! 1 told her to
gel Just enough to make three shirts; instead
of making three she htis put the whole nine
yards-into one shir! !* But we must hurry up
and make the best of a bargain,* for it is high
time we were at the party this minute. You
can push it down into your trowsers and! no
-1 body will be Ihe wiser. So at it the Judge
1 went, his friend assisting him, as yard after
1 yard was piled away in his unmentionables,'
(they didn’t wear tights in those days) and
1 thus ho went to Judge B.'s party,yf not (he
1 finest dressed, at least the largest shifted getf*
■ tioman in the crowd. *
C. promised never (o’Wow on his Judicial,
friend, and kept his word, until he learned
that thd Judge was compelled to toll it on
himself, for unfortunately be carried the big'
shirt home, ajid Mrs. Judge wanted to' know
what'tremendous big woman’s s—ft (hat Wati
in his trank T He had to om with iVi >nd it
being told by the Judge himself, Mr.’C •'-
fell at liberl toll it also; which hedotosf
sometimes id this infinite merriment qf all
who beor him. :
- “Mr loye," says Mrs. Foozle to her hus.
Wind,.“oblige me with a five pound note'tow
day, topurchasea new dross.’’ ■ > ■
‘‘Shan’t do any such things Agnes >;• yen
hailed mjj «• bear yesterday." m
--“Lor; love, that wasnothlnjp; f thoanVby
it (bat you were fond of hugging/’ 'i
“You little—,i have.no five, but here’*
a ten.” • r:'- ■ ' ■■ l > ’
FtATTiiSY.—“You ftatter ,mp, rnsdam.’’,
taid a ,iop, upoq,being told by .a ladylhqtdiia
bal waa.a vpry fine 0ne..,., , . f c i"j. ;
“Nqt at all, sir,” replied she, ‘‘l.only-pnaisa
the hatter. Had. the head pcTape worth
notice, I should not have thought of (hehau”
A KwrW Poist iii’
our vicinity, the otter ijiy.raya
Courier, tr|e ( d to put down his
iW* qnestion j “If did
dove ihat peyet' feitehw.'wWedla Itgotir?
"Why,” retorted MtfUayjelih'Dg
“I mppcfeci toaubady ibot «< /”
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