u Artis Agitator.
Twilight Mulap.
Uf fclherl H»uf tjbt*l4hink,
Id tblkjlhfieeoeljnendloly boor,
And ill thywell meant eotuSelllaga'
O’er me haveSfetglc power.
Aod, .att«r dear, you too win fill
A place in nsemorj’i nro:
And-farigbter.ftr than otbar lore,
That porar JUmswiU bn*-
And the to whom we dally weal
With ill our babygrief,
(Wboee, but ■ pure, true mother*! lore
So quick eoqld pro telleft")
Wu called from u» too eoon away
To dwell with angels bright:
And up in Heaven she pleadrfer a*
And strives.to guide 01 right.
But lereied ie oar household band,
Pcrhtpi we're ne'er to meet;
No more to feel the light careM
Not the kin of welcome sweet.
Bat ever from tbit heart of mine,
Ascending to the skies.
For all the dear one's thaj I low,
Will fervent prayer arise.
Uomm;
i DOMESTIC STORY.
Asm tie Sur SpangUi Btnntr.
HARO TIHEI)
—OS—
THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE.
V ouvxs onto.
CHAPTER 1.
"What makes you look so doll this morn
ing, Ellen?” inquired Mr. Chester, a young
merchant in a small way, of bis wife.
They had been married about a year, and
thus far not an ill-natured word had been
Spoken by them. At his marriage, Chester
had taken a small, but neat and convenient
house in the upper part of the city. He had
been able to furnish it only in a very, plain
manner: but since his marriage his business
had added many articles of luxury to his es
tablishment.
The times bad begun to tighten up, how
ever, and business was dull. T|ie notes were
due, and he had to bestir himself to make his
payments. Fortunately for him, however,
as the stringency in the mony market begun
to weigh the most heavily, his father’s admin
istrator placed him in possession of two thou
sand doflars, which had been reserved to
await the contigencies of a lawsuit, and
which had now been satisfactorily adjust
ed.
With this sum he had been able to pay off
his more pressing demands, and to lay by a
surplus of five hundred dollars to meet a note
which would fall due some two months
hence.
The receipt of this sum had also induced
him to increase the luxuries of his house.—
The parlor had been newly furnished, and
the old parlor furniture placed in (he room.
They had everything (hat was necessary for
comfort, and Jor a creditable.appearance in
the world.
“You look|very dull,” continued the hus.
band, as he rbse from the breakfast table.
Ellen looked up at him with a languid
amile, but made no reply.
“What ails youi”
“1 was thinking how lonesome I should be
here alone all day,” replied she.
“Lonesome I Why donl you go ont, then,
and take the air ? Walk down Washington
street, round the Common —it will revive
your spirits.”
“How absurd you talk I Walk round the
Common in the month of December! Why
1 should freeze to death I"
“Nol so bad as lhat,” replied the young
husband, chucking his wife under the chin.
“Go to the Alhenteum, then, and see the
pictures.”
“I couldn’t do that every day, and you
dont know how lonesome I am.”
‘Cant you read 7"
“I dont want to read all the time.”
Read part of the time, then ”
“But, Fred, 1 have been thinking of some,
thing,” and a smile played upon the pretty
lips of ihe young wife."
“What, Ellen 7”
“I miss something In our bouse.”
“Do you 7"
“0, very much, indeed.”
“Well, Ellen, what is it I"
“A piano. It would be so nioe to practise
these long dreary days. I should be as hap.
py as a princess if i only bad a piano.”
Mrs. Chester’s father was in affluent cir
cumstances, and before her marriage she had
been accustomed to many luxuries, which her
husband’s limited means would not peunit
him to provide.
“But, Ellen, I cannot afford a piano. The
limes have not been so bard before for ten
years.”
“You have live hundred dollars in the
bank.”
“But I have reserved that to pay all
Botes.”
“Dont you expect to make enough to pay
it 7”
“ft-is very doubtful; my business hardly
pays expenses.”
“You will be able to pay that, I know.”
continued the eloquent petitioner.
“Well, welt, my dear, you shall have the
piano.”
“Yob are a dear husband! You will gel
me one of Chiokeriog’s 7”
“Any Kind you please, my dear.”
And before dinner time the instrument
came home, and Mrs. Chester was aa happy
as a piano could possibly make her, albeit
she hsd little idea of the significance of
“three per cent, a month," and protested
notes,
CHAPTER IL
Men eaid (he time* would be better, but (he
prophecy was vain. Merchants failed, bro
kers (ailed, banks and insurance companies
Tailed. Business was duller than it had been
before for twenty years' Poor men lounged
at the corners of (lie streets, vainly waiting
for a job while their wives and children shiv
ered with the cold, and hungered for even a
crust of bread. Ruin and disease were (he
order of the day, and men wondered where
eroutd be the end of it all.
Fred Chester’s not pay hie
stop expenses, to say nothing of bis house
bold, and when that dreadful note fell due,
be bad not a dollar towards redeeming it.—
Ruin stared him in the face, and it w« now,
his (urn to look sad. ,
Five hundred dollars wu • small sum, yet
Tti
to the Sytrasten or the Mm et FmQom-atiir the Specs* at BtaTtbs Krtotm.
COBB, STOjRROCK & CO.,
you. i. i
he could not raise it. Even three' per cent, a
month, without “collateral," would not pro
cure it . Something must bd done.. Some
friend must gel him out of the' scrape, or he
must cerlaily fail. His wife’s father was
wealthy, but he had married his daughter
against bis wishes, and there was no hop* in
that quarter. But EHoh’s uncle, a blunt,
honest master mason, had always looked kind
ly upon him, and perhaps be would open bis
pursestrings. *
The note was due on the following day, and
he deoided to make the application to Uncle
Luke, as he was familiarly called. In the
course of the forehdon, however, he happened
to call at the store, and Fred stated his pot.
ilios. >
“Ah?” said the blunt old mechanic, “I
thought things were going on swimmingly
with you.”
“So they were, but the times are so deuced
ly hard, that I cannot make enough to pay
expenses,” replied Fred, with a dolorous ex
pression of countenance.
“Where’s the two thousand dollars you re
ceived from your father’s estate ?”
“I paid my debts with it.”
“But did’nt you tell me you did’nt owe above
three thousand dollars ?”
' I paid oft* fifteen hundred.”
“And the real."
“Well that went in various ways.” **
“And your slock is mortgaged?’
“Yes for one thousand.”
“You have done a good business.”
“Yea.”
“Well, well, I am in a hurry just now, but
t will go up and dine with yon, and we will
talk it all over; and Uncle Luke left the
shop.
Fred did not half like his uncle’s inquisi
(iveness, but he bad a strong hope (hat he
would get him out of his present scrape.—
Writing a hasty note, he despatched hia boy
to inform hia wife that Uncle Luke would
dine with them.
CHAPTER HI.
Dinner lime came, and so did Uncle Luke.
Ellen had a nice dinner ready, and her pret
ty face was covered with smiles when she
welcomed the honest old man to the hospital
ities of her board.
Uncle Luke seated himself at the table.—
His accustomed smile had disappeared, and
ho looked rather stern.
“Fred,” said be suddenly, as the young
merchant inserted his fork in the breast of the
nicely browned roast turkey, “you haven’t
found (be philosopher’s atone yet.”
Fred suspended the operation of carving
the turkey, and gazed with a look of astonish
ment into the face of the speaker.
“What do you mean,Uncle Luke?” asked
“You dont know what the philosopher’s
stone is, do you ?”
“No.”
“I found it when I was quite a young man,
and what prosperity has crowned me, 1 owe to
lhat.”
“Pray explain, Uncle Luke,”
“After, dinner, I will.”
“Somehow in spite of the extraordinary
preparations Ellen had made for the reception
of her, uncle, the dinner did not pass off very
pleasantly. There was a reserve on the par
ty, which threw cold'water on the whole af
fair. But it was finished at last to the relief
of all.
“Now, uncle, come into’the parlor and
Ellon shall play you a tune on her piano,”
said Fred, leading the way.
“On her what I” exclaimed the old roan
with a start of surprise.
“On the piano, of course."
“Then you keep a piano 7”
“Certainly; we could not possibly get along
without a piano, could we Ellen.”
“I am sure we couldn’t,” replied the young
wife. “O, it is such a comfort !’’
“Such a luxury, you mean,” answered
Uncle Luke, with a cold sneer, “What did
you give for it 7”
“Five hundred.”
“Is it paid for!"
“Certainly it is.”
“And your note due to-morrow which you
cannot meet.”
i Fred glanced at Ellen, who looked aa woe
begone, ss though she had lost every friend
she bad in the world.
“It was not bis fault, uncle; I leazed it out
of him,” said she.
“Then 'he is a bigger fool than I took him
to be," replied Uncle Luke, contemptuously.
“And when he Was not doing business enough
to pay expenses, you dine on roast turkey,
and all manner of fancy stuff.”
Uncle Lube, though conscious that he was
meddling with did not concern him,
could not control bis indignation at the wan
ton extravagance of the young people. He
felt kindly towards them, as he always had,
and though his words were harsh and cold, he
intended to do them a kindness.
“Yes, and Ellen you wear a silk gown for
every day, and to crown ell, you have got a
piano. Do you expect to pay your notes in
this manner, Fred 1” continued he j “hero is
the secret of hard times—extravagance—silk
dresses, roast turkeys, ice creams, and pian
os.”
“Things were going very Well with me
when I bought the piano,’’ suggested Fred.
“No matter; you are n fool. Now I will
tell you what the philosopher’s stone is."
Uncle Luke paused and looked coldly into
the eye of the yoog merchant.
“Well, uncle, wbat,is it T”
“Live within your means.. If you do not
earn but a dollar, spend only seventy-five
cents,” and Uncle Luke put on his great coal
and edged towards the door, without ever al
luding to (he important topic in which Frde
felt so much interest.
“But, Unde Luke, cap you lend me ifa
yPEUSBOROUGH, TIOGA COUNTY, BA,
money I want!” asked Fred, dismayed at the
thought of failure.
“No, I cannot."
“Then 1 roust fail.”
“You ought to have thought of that when
yau bought the piano,” Luke,
sternly. “Do you know VtamV*
' “The carpenter I’? ■ •
“Yes.”
“I do,”
“Apply to him; be wilt lend you tho mon
ey."
“But he is almost a stranger to me."
, “No matter; go to him," and uncle Luke
left the house.
“Ob I Fred, this is all my fault,” said El
len, bursting into (ears.
“No matter, my dear, it will all come round
right.”
Fred did apply to Waters.
“Wbat security can you givel” asked the
carpenter.
“I dont know,” replied Fred, doubtingly
“My slock 13 mortgaged.”
“Household furniture?”
“No.”
“What have you got!”
“A piano antfe .”
“That will do; give n>e a bill of sale of
that. If not paid within thirty days tbe pi*
ano is mine.”
Fred assented and received (be money.—
The papers were executed, and Fred got out
of the scrape.
During the succeeding thirty days he tried
hard to raise the money to redeem the piano,
without success. Waters took it at the ap
pointed time, and seemed perfectly satisfied
with bis bargain.
A few days after, tbe young couple were
surprised to receive an invitation to dine with
Uncle Luke, and, to their astouisment, when
they arrived, they found their piano in bis
snug litte parlor, '
“Did you buy this ?” asked Fred.
But Uncle Luke would answer no ques
tions, yet he promised to make him a pres
ent of it as soon as be had paid all his debts.
The dinner consisted of corned- beef and
baked potatoes, with an apple' pie for desert.
Uncle Luke was in unusually good spirits, and
never once appologized for tbe singular fare
he- had set before his guests.
But they understood the meaning of it. It
was intended as a lesson for them, and they
profited by it. They brought home the phil
osopher’s stone and began to live by a much
humbler system. The hired girl was dis
charged, and Elled had so much to do in at
tending to her household duties that she had
no time to be lonesome. They were much"
happier than when she moped all day in the
parlor, and belter (ban this, the limes began
to mend, and Fred’s business prospered again.
He paid off his mortgage, and the piano was
duly returned to them, because they could af
ford to support such a luxury.
In a “Prize-Essay on the Sabbath,” written
by a journeyman printer in Scotland, there
occurs (he following passage :
“Yoke fellow ! think how the abstraction
of the Sabbath would hopelessly enslave the
working classes, with which we are identified.
Think of, labor thus going on in one monoto
nous and continuous and eternal cycle—limbs
forever on tbs rack ; the fingeraforever play
ing, the eye-balls forever straining, the brow
forever sweating, the feet forever plodding,
the brain forever throbbing, the shoulder for
ever drooping, the loins forever aching.
Think of the beauty it -would effeae; of
the merry heartedness it would extiogusb; of
the giant strength it would exhaust; of the
aspirations it would crush; of the sickness it
would breed; of the projects it would wreck;
of the groans it would extort; of the lives it
would immolate; and of the cheerless graves
it would prematurely dig I See them, toiling
and moiling, sweating and fretting, grinding
and hewing, weaving and spinning, sowing
and gathering, mowing and reaping, razing
and building, digging and planting, unloading
and storing striving and struggling—in the
garden and in the field, in the' granary and
in the mill, in the warehouse and in the shop,
on the mountain and in thb ditch, on the road
side and in the wood, in the city and in the
country, on the sea on the shore, and on the
earth, in days of brightness and of gloom.—
What a sad picture would the world present
if we had no Sabbath !”
Triumph of Leabrino. —Mind consti
tutes the majesty of man—virtue bis tru6
nobility. The tide of improvement which is
now flowing through the land, like another
Niagara, is deslied to roll on downward to
the latest-posterity; and it will bear, then,
on its bosom, our virtues, our vices, our glo
ry on our shame or whatever else we may
transmit as an heritance. It (hen in a great
measure" depends Upon the present, whether
(he moth of immorality or ignorance and
luxury shall prove the overthrow of the re
public; o.r knowledge agd virtue, like pillars,
shall support her against the whirlwind of
war, ambition, corruption, and the remorse
less tooth of time. Give ypur children for
tune without education, and at least half the
number will go down to (he tomb of oblivion
—perhaps to ruin. - Give them education,
and (hey wilt accumulate fortunes; they will
be a fortune .to themselves and to their coun
try. It is an inheritance worth more than
gold—for it buys true honor—they can never
spend or lose it, and through life it proves a
friend—in death a consolation.
Thb Pbinteb, the Master of all Trades,
He beat* the farmer with his fast Hoe, the
carpenter with his rules, and the meson In
setting up tall columns, be surpasses the Law.
yet and Doetpr in attending to his cose, and
beats the Pptsoty fo ))|s management of the
Deoil. * "*
\ »
"I '■ i
“TUB AGITATION OF THOUGHT IS TUB BEGINNING OF WISpOU."
Itfo Sabbatb,
Gif ATM.
THURSDAY MORNINGj AP
Adventure with Rattlesnali.es.
I noticed a sketch, in the Courier a few
days since, entitled Taugkannuc Moun
tain,” ’ that, recalled •Jo my mind an incident
that occured to me on those mountains,'some
twenty-five or thirty years ag<s, I .was at
that time'a resident of Should. At the
time to which I refer, 1 formed one of a par
ty of young men who made an excursion to
the summit of these mountains,.to hunt part-
&c. There are, or were at that time,
places there so infested with rattlesnakes that
it was dangerous to approach them. . To
avoid these abodes, we relied on the acquain
tance of one of our parly' with their locality.
After chasing over the hills Tor six or eight
hour*, we were tired enough tp think of re
turning to our homes. We were proceed
ing along in an “Indian file,” through a de
file some four rods wide, one side of which
was,a mountain; the other some forty feet
high, composed of loose ledges- that were
overgrown with ivys, when a sharp rattle was
beard that sent a chill to our hearts. The
foremost of our line saw the reptile just a
head of him, and without thought raised bis
gun and fired | As the report of the gun
echoed along the crags a most hideous rat
tling and hissing arose on all sides.'
We were in the midst of the “den.”—
Each' rook and bush teemed populous with
rattlesnakes, and we could {see them descend
ing from Ihe higher crags. We stood still,
not knowing what to do. |To go back would
be as dangerous as to advanceand to re
main where we were, as. perilous as either,
for several were moving in the bushes near
us. The slightest touch of a fang was cer
tain death, as we were too far from any hab
itation to jnable ns -to reach it before the
deadly virus would have taken effect. We
feared to stir, lest we should attract (heifed v
motion sooner than if we remained quiet/l-
What passed in the minds of my companions
I know not, but I remember that my own
thoughts were of no very agreeable na
ture.
At this juncture, one of us perceived a
large fiat rock, some three rods from us, and
proposed in a whisper that we sheuid make
for it. Having ascertained that none of our
assailants were between us and it, we made a
rush for it, and gained it unscathed. Our
last movements notified our creeping foes of
our whereabouts, as well as to irritate- them
more, and they made for our position.
Our weapons of defence were four guns,
two pistols and an axe. We were then so
situated as to be able to defend ourselves, in
■DM manvure. Weicuta enable of very
slender sprouts that grew close by the rock,
stationed ourselves in the center, and as the
snakes came on the edge of our diladel we
killed them. Only five or six made the at
tempt, and we pitched their mangled car
casses back to their comrade. It was evident
that so long as we remained on the rock we
were safe; but how to escape was more ihon
we could predict. If we could have killed
all of the reptiles on one side, with our guns
and cudgels, we should have encountered
more in scaling the ledge.
We remained quiet on tbe rock, and, in a
short timetbe rattlesnakes ceased their attacks,
but on our making any movement, (hey
commenced hissing again. These snakes
emit a disagreeable ordor when disturbed,
and the air warfilled with it. We had no
ticed a tall tree growing close by us, nod one
of our party proposed to cut it, so as tu'eause
it to fall against the top of the ledge, and
thereby form, if it did not break, a way by
which we might extricate ourselves. We in
stantly commenced culling it, keeping a
sharp look out for the spotted rascals, who
were now doubly enraged by the resounding
blows.
The tree fell with its top against the sum
mit of the ledge, and we ascended its trunk
and escaped. Before we left we just took a
farewell glance at our baffled belligerents,
who had then taken possession of our rock,
and were engaged in snapping a handkerchief
dropped by one of us. We formed a line,
and shot at them, and then left.
Fatal as is the bite of a rattlesnake, yet
there is a weed growing in our meadows,
which being properly applied, readers it
harmless. Many persons are not acquainted
with it, indeed very few are. I have known
persons whof knowing antidotes for ibis pois
on, refuse to disclose them.
The weed to which I refer grows from
twelveto eighteen inches high, one stalk,
leaves narrow, and grow singly from the
stem from one to two inches apart. This
weed is surrounded with small bluish
blossoms that have five ledvesr; three on
the lower portion and two above. I see
one growing a short distance from me, which
I enclose, If this weed be bruited in cold
water and applied, the bile is harmless.—
Were I a botanist I might give a belter des.
criplion of it. —Boston Courier.
Thb following little incideht was related to
us by a frjend who vouches for its truthful
ness.
A teacher in a neighboring Sunday School
was examining a class of little boys from a
scripture Catechism. The first question was;
“who stoned Stephen 7” Ans, “The Jews.’’
Second question “where did (hey stone him?”
Acs. . “Beyond the limits of the city.” The
third question. “Why did they take him be
yond iheHimits of the city 1” was not in the
book'and; proved a poser to the whole alas*.
It passed'from head to foot without an answer
being attempted. At length a little fellow;
who had been scratching his bead ail the
lime, looked up and said t “'Well I donl know
unless it was to get a fair Jling at Aim.
Tub traveling artist who went around the
country taking likenesses, has been arrested
(bf taking some tjlM djdt)’| belong ,(o him*
i 'i 1
PUBLISHERS it' PROPRIETORS.
5, 1855.
AHUM SKETCHES.
Anecdote iof General Taylor.
If there was One thing that the late Pres
ident valued less than any other, it was dress.
This indifference to the fine arts, of, the tai
lor,, ns knight-have been expected, led ton
great many amusing blunders on the part of
his subordinates., On the day after the bat
tle of Monterey, the General was. in compa
ny. with two other officers, in undress, "talk
ing over matters” in the dining room of a
cale.. The General was dressed in o*wbite
jacket, straw hat and nankeen continuations.
The party bad been in close conversation but
a few minutes, when a young Lieutenant,
fresh from’ lowa, made his appearance. It
was bis first day in camp, having arrived
that mpmlng by the way of an up train from
the Rio Grande. He was, of course, unac
quainted with anybody. After looking about
him for a few minutes, he took his seat at a
marble lopped table, and commenced “order
ing up.”
“I say, shorty, pass the bill of fare.”
Thib was addressed to the General.
“Humor the joke, General,” whispered
one of the officers, “he evidently takes you
for the waiter,”
“We'll seel” said.the General. “What
do you want ?” he inquired,
“A mutton chop and cup of coffee, and
suddenly too,” responded the lowa officer.
“James, get the gentleman what he de
sires,” said the General to one of the real
waiters.
“No,'sir!” energetically and quite indig
nantly responded the subaltern, “that won't
do. if I wanted James to gel my dinner, I
would have given my orders to James. 1
want you, old fellow,” he continued, rather
facetiously, “to attend to the matter. It
would do me good to see a man of your
build fly around. Ha I Ha !”
“But I am engaged, sir, and cannot poss
atlend to you. James must wait upon you,
or you must wait upon yourself,” replied the.
General.
“Well, let James go,’’ the subaltern re
.plied. “Queer people, these,” he muttered
half audibly, “two big lubbers to gel one
mutton chop ! No wonder they cannot resist
invasion.”
James attended to the order. The Lieu
tenant partook of his mutton chop, and cof
fee, paid his bill, picked his teeth, adjusted
his cap, and sauntered fotb to take a look at
things. The first person he met on the Pi
azza, was “shorty,” the waiter, arm-in-arm
with Gen._ Quilijian and Col. Duncan,
“Well, if this aihY rushing things, you
may shoot me !” exclaimed the surprised sub
altern. “A getter up of fried potatoes sup
ported by a live General and a Colonel of
Artillery. I wonder who the devil he is, and
where ho got his impudence. My friend,”
he continued, accosting another officer, “can
you tell me who (hat little old fellow with a
while jacket is, and what he does for a liv.
ingl”
“What! the onesupporled by Gen, Quit
man ?”
“Yes.”
“Why that’s old Zachariah, and he makes
his living by walloping folks,” the
interrogated.
“What Zachariah do you mean?” asked
the lowa subaltern.
“Why, old Zachariah Taylor, the com.
mander of the Rio Grande-army,”
“You don’j say so ! Not General Taylor?
Je-ru-so lent!” exclaimed the dumb-fouoded
subaltern, and left.
Bradlug the Law.
Two worthies had occasion a few days
since to journey a short distance in the State
of Vermont, on business. The weather be
ing some whot chilly, (he friends concluded
to stop at a tavern on their way and warm
up. Acting according to their resolutions,
the friends walked up to the bar of a public
house, and said they “would lake a little
brandy."
. “We do not keep the article,” said the man
in attendance.”
‘Well, we' will take some gin, then, said
one of the applicants.
‘Havn’t got it,’ said boniface.
One of the thirsty applicants beginning to
get a little impatient asked.:
“Do you keep whiskey ?”
“No,” was the reply.
“If you havn’t got whiskey, what do you
keep—beer t”
“No sir not a drop ?”
After muttering some thing about Yankee
fanatics and the confounded Maine Law, the
friends look a seat by the stove. Presently
a trio came in, went up to (he bar and after a
short consulation, in which the landlord who
was heard to say ‘they are all right,’ one of
the party called for a bundle ef slrau>.
The straw was promptly handed over and
the man went out. The two followed
his example; and each left! with a- similar
bundle. Our heroes, by (his time began to
famell the rnl,’ and one of them stepped up,
raying; that he guessed he would feed, and
accordingly purchased three bundles, upon
opening which the anxiously sought, ‘red eye’
made its appearance, enclosed in small black
bottles, much to the satisfaction of the friends
who after 'warming’ departed with Iho inv
pression that the Maine Law was net a bad
institution after oil.
“John, how does the thermometer stand ?*’
“Against the wall, dad.”' •
' “I mean howja the mercury 1”
“I guess it’s pretty well, dad; it hasn’t
complained-lately.
“Ymi little rascal, is it colder than
davf’
■*{ cjoo’t know; I'll f> Bill and (fee).*'
ting from Jerusalem, in Virginia, tolls ihefoU
lowing good, story, illustrating atotjcelW*
importance of the letter “D," and the ha 4
qdorof Abolitionism iotboold J}«iuilio6 >
- Theodore D.Parker,lSsq.,Na merchant iq
Boston, happened a few weekasioca tb. be, q
guest for one night at Knapp’s hotel in this
place. After tea,/ as he ; wa» enjoying the
coolness of tfe evening on the pjasaa, he no,
ticed a. gentleman in the office whowasexi
amioing the books of arrivals, and who sftsr,
wards walked up and down tjie piaaaa, Scan*
ning him (Mr. P,) very closely. Somafen or
fifteen minutes passed in this way, when the
stranger broke the. silence by addressing h>(Q t
“Is your name Parker, sir I’’
“Yes, air,”
“Theodore Parker^”
“Yea sir.”
NO. 38.
“Do you come from Boston, air V*
“Yesair.’V , ,
.“Then air,” (with the looTc'aa if theidentl.
ly of the individuaf'wera fairly established,)
“I suppose that you are the man that goes
about in New England vilifying the inslila*
tiojis of the South.”.
"Ob, do, do 1” answered the astonished Mf.
Parker, before whose eyes * bag of feathers
and a kettle of tar danced a momentary pas
de deux, "I am Theodore D..Parker«-l am
a merchant of Boston*—l am not the Minister
of whom yon apeak.
“Ah, that alters the. case,* responded the
chivajric Virginian in a milder lone. "80l
allow me to give you one piece of advice i
and-that is this, if you are going .to travel
around these diggins, you had. better in fu.
ture, when you sign your name,.be particular,
and pm that "D.” d——n plain.”
“Will you keep your eye on my horse, my
son, while I step in and get a drink 1"
“Yes sir.”
[Stranger gets his drink and cornea out.]
“Where’s my horse, boy ?”
"He's ruon’d away, sir,”
“Did’nt I tell you to keep your eye on hint,
you scamp?”
“ Yes, sir; and I did keep it on him till be
got clean out of sight.”
When (he town of,Woodstock, Coon., first
began to be settled, (here was a time when
(he few and scatiered families were filled, with
the dreadful apprehension of being taken and
perhaps killed or carried off by the Indiana,
No man retired at night without at 'first hav.
ing his gun well loaded, and placed 1, over hit
head where he could seize it instantly.
With these and other precautions, one of
these bfave men, and his no less courageous
companion, on a certain night retired to bed.
In the dead of night they were awakened by
an unusual noise around the house; They
listened—presently they heard it again; it
sounded like a slight knocking against (he
window "shutter at the opposite end of the
house. The man seized his gun, and boldly
entered the apartment whence the noise pro,
ceeded, and in thunder (ones demanded—
‘‘Who’s there!”
A gentle voice, which he well knew, re,
plied-
‘•I am your neighbor, and have come to
gel some medicine for one of my children
that, is sick,”
He lowered his gun, and turned lo go ntHJ
replace it over his bed, almost in vain Strug*
gling as he went to let his courage down, and
to calm his penurbed feelings ; as he entered
his bedroom he discovered his wife deliberately
changing her inner garment.
“Pray, what, are you about 1" he exclaim*
ed,,“0l such a time as this 1“
“Why,” she replied, “you see what I am
about, don’t you T 1 wasn't going off among
the Indians without clean clothes on, 1 Would
have you to know.”
Pobbs in the Legislature.
.Owing to a new phase in politics, Dobbs
was elected to the Legislature. Though gra.
tided, he was also a little intimidated by the
honor, and but for the thought that he was
not necessarily obliged to speak, would have
declined serving. As it was, he accepted.
All things went on smrothly for a lime.
Mr. Dobbs could vote on other people’s mo*
lion, though he couldn’t make any himself.
One .unlucky day, however, the proceedings
being raiher dull, and Mr. Dobbs rather thirsty
he concluded to go over to Congress hall, and
get a glass of lemonade. As he rose to leave
the hill, he caught the speaker’s eye. The
speaker supposed he intended to address (ho
House, and accordingly announced in a loud
voice i
“Mr. Dobbs."
Dobbs started as if he had been shot.-.
The assembled wisdom of the State had their
eyes fixed.upon him. He pulled out his pock*
el-handkerchief to wipe away the perspiration,
and feeling it necessary to say something,
blubbered out—
“ Second the motion.” .
“There is no motion House,"
said the Speaker, ,
“Then I—I.”
The silenco was breathless.
“1—1,"
Dobbs couldn’t think of anything to say.
But a bright idea came to him, and he finish*
ed the sentence—
“ I move we adjourn”
The motion didn’t go, but Dobbs did, and
nothing more was seen of him that day.
An Explanation.—ln addressing‘n jury
upon one occasion, Mr. Jeffrey
found it necessary to make very free with the
character of a military officer, who was pre
sent during the whole harrangue. Upon hear*
ing himself several times spoken of as “(he
soldier,” the.son of Mars, boiling with indig.
notion, interrupted the pleader—“ Don’t call
me, soldier, sir, I am' an 'officer.” Mr. Jeff,
rey immediately went on—“ Well, gentlemen,
this officer who is no soldier,” was the sole
cause of all iho mischief that , has occurred.”
A drunken Jowyer otygoii
was observed byi the minister;
him thus: 1 i
“ I shall bear witness- against you at the
day of judgment.” , ■ r V
The iawyejr shaking drunk*
eo gravity replied: ’
~ “I. have twenty five years at the
bar, antfhave always found inat the.greatest
rascal is the first (o turn Stale’* evidence.”
.Theodore Parker.
A Very Nice Lady.
>g into church,
| who addressed