From the Evening Mirror. O Lorers, when rare Llpi say Bfo. 1 wctfdhot iajhujindon’g abide, j And Bus was ahyr.tnd half afraid i . ■ \.J. Aq4 «*kqd—wl* l7 •; , OV M - , Her bparli md yMj lior. lipa saia no.; , ~ ; - 01oTera, lipsefT P<H, . ~, riLpt;pot joar.;liq|pe grow less, grpjjf leepj . For oll’ug so (iiatf imply no . , Haifibiddetf 'nealh a alike □ tress, ■ Her eyes wert frill of lenderness ; And still sholislenod, till—ah Bta* S Her heart, her soal, her lips said yes! ..I O losers. When rare Ups say no, .... . • Let not your hope grow less, grow lest; For olttioeo Hut Amply no 1 letnPaplforyea/ia meant for yes. •■•7 :o ; ,'■ > f T. B. Aunucu. . .1 ■■ •Frim the American Sean. ■AFtalcli is .the ITlai» t; I see its pins, fend chains and rings. Its eyeglass and its trumpery things; 1 see its whisker*—they ari fine' • OrnaipanU io.tjie .hairy jine; feci its' Sait, I'seh’ its hat, Isee it* boots, and ,ifs cravat, . ■ it ehinceto meet' > SaitnteHbgiij) the well swept street, - The tailot praise who made sndh suits, ' Add praise the artist of such boots. T do'ndt see his slmbbydroas, I see mu in bis manliness’; I see biß aiJL seo hi? spade, . f see a nhfn whom God hath tndifa.' ' If snob a maobtfoto yon stand,. '■ L Give him your heart, give him your hand, And praise your Maker for. such men— They make this old earth young again. Wiuj s Mariana 1 ■lkons MiTOH. A PORTRAIT PROMT LIFE. SETB WOODSDM’S WIFE. Mr. Soih Woodsum was mowing one morn ing in his lower haying held and his eldest son, Obediah, a smart boy of thirteen, was opening the mown, grass to the sun. Mr. Woodsum looked up towards his house, and beheld bis little daughter Harriet, ten years of age, running towards•hinv'with her utmost speed. As she came- up, he perceived she was greatly agitated; tears were running down her cheeks, hod she had scarcely breath enough to speak. '•Oh', fatherf’she faintly articulated, ‘moth er is dreadful sick: she’s on the'bed, and says she shall die before you.get there.” Mr. Woodsum was a man of sober, sound mind, Bnd calm nerves; but he had, what sometimes happens in ibis cold and loveless world of ourjs, a tender attachment for his wife, which made the message of the little cirl fall upon his hear: lute a dagger. He dropped his scythe, and ran with great haste to the house. Obediah, who was at the other end of the field, seeing this unusual move ment of his father, dropped his fork and ran with all his might, and the two entered the house almost at the same lime Mr. \\ oodsum hastened to the bed side, and look his wife's hand ‘My dear Sully,’ said he, ‘whin is the mutter V echoed Mrs. Wood sum, with a plaintive groan, “1 shouldn’t think wou would need to ask what is the mai ler, Mr. Woodsum. Don’t you see lam dy m" “Why, no, Sally, you don’t look as if you wagjjymp Wl ia t is the matter? How do vou fee 1 ” “0. I shan’t live til! night.” said Mrs. Woodsum, with a heavy sigh ; “I am going Mr VVoortsum. without waiting to make further inoumcs. told Obediah to run and imnn upon the horse, and ride over after.Doc lor Fairfield, and pet him to comoiover as ouick ns he can come “Tell him I am afraid vour mother is dying. If the Doctor’s horse is away in'the pasture, ask him to lake our horse and come right over, while you go am) catch hir ” “Obediah, with tears in his eyes, and his heart is his mouth, flew as though he had wings added to his feel, and in three minutes’ time was mounted unon Old Grey, and gal loping with full speed towards Doctor Fair field': “Mv dear.” said Mr. Woodsum, leaning his head upon the pillow, “how do you feel? what makes vou think you are dying ?” And he tenderly kissed her lorehead as he spoke, and pressed her hand to his bosom, “Oh, Samuel," for she generally called him by his Christain name, when under the influence of lender emolinn : “Oh, Samuel, I feel dreadfully, 1 have pains darling through my head, and most all over me; and my heart heats as though it would come through my side. And besides, I feel as though I Was dying. I’m sure 1 can’t live till night; and what will become oi my poor children?” And she sobbod heavily and burst into a flood of tears. Mr. Woodsum was affected. He could not bring himself to believe that his wife was in such immediate danger of dissolution as she apprehended. He thought she had no appearance of a dying person; but still her earnest and positive declaration, that .she should not live through ihe day, sent a thrill through his veins, and a sinking to his heart that no language has power to describe. Mr. Woodsum was ns ignorant of medicine as a child; he therefore did not attempt to do any thing lo relieve his.wife, except to soothe her feelings by kind and encouraging words, till the doctor arrived. The half hour that elap sed, from Ihe time Obediah left till the doctor came, seemed to Mr. Woodsum almost an age. He repeatedly went from the bedside to the door to look and see if Ihe doctor was nnvwhere near, and ns often returned lo hear his wife groan, and, say she was sinking fast, and could not stand It many minutes longer. length Doctor Fairfield rode up to the doof;'dn Mr. Wnodsum’s Old Grrey,and with sadefte bags in hand hastened info the house. A brief examination of the patient convinced it was a case of hypocondria.'ond be soon spoke encouraging words to lier, and told hot although she was considerably ne wel), be did not doubt she would be belter in « little while. “Oh, Doctor, how can you say so?” said Mrs. Woodsum ; "dont you see I am dying? 1 can t ppssibly live till night; I am sinking veryjasl, Doctor, apd 1 shall never see the again, My heart sometimes almost sinrif ti l>eaiing now, >nd my feet and hands are growing cold. But [ must see my poor children once more; do’ 1e( them come in and hid me farewell ” Here she was so overwhelmed with sobs and tears as to pre vent her saying more. The Doctor having adminislercd the drugs MI-V- . . r, r.-i •} 0 ” ■'>" COBB, S' T,OL. 1. in each case-mi out by Mr. W tbs real danger that it' is only a (he good lady h Again and i Seth summoned lor 1 from his pi '•»< 1 and relief in he again does she story of ' ' : k deatJslast assault. 'At last, the eoSr saddening days of autonrn came on, Mr, mwteum was in the midst of hi* “(hit work, fthich had been severaT times interruptej by these periodical turns of despondency- itihis wife. One morning he went to his fiel early, for he had a heavy day’s work to to, and had engaged ono of his neighbors tacome with two yoke of oxen and a plow tonelp him “break up” an old I mowing field. His neighbor could only help ■ >s him that day, i plow the whoU left the children strict charge to) er. Mr. Wood! his neighbor wai went on to theirl the fqronoon, wtan little Harriet came run ning to the field; and’told her father that her mother-was “driadful sick,” and wanted him to come in as qiick as he could, for she was certainly dying how. Mr. Woodsum, with out saying a wo-d, drove his team to the end of the furrow; tut he looked thoughtful and perplexed, Altjough he felt persuaded that her danger was : imaginary, as it had always proved to be befhre, still the idea of the bare possibility that this sickness might be unto death, pressed upon him with such power, that he laid down his goad slick, and telling his neighbor to let the cattle breathe awhile, walked deliberately towards the house. Be fore he had accumplished the wlTole distance, however, his own imagination bad added such wings to his speed, that he found himself moving at o quick run. He entered the house and found his wife as he hod so often found her before, in her own estimation, almost ready to breathe her last. Her voice was faint and low, nntj her pillow was wet with tears. She had already taken her leave of her dear children, and wailed only to ex change a few parting words with her beloved husband. Woodsum approached the bedside, and look her hand tenderly, as he had ever been wont to do, but he could not perceive any symptoms of approaching dissolution, different from what he had witnessed on a dozen former occasions. “Now, my dear,” said Mrs. Woodsum, faintly, “ihe lime has come at last. I feel lhat lamon my deathbed, and have hut a short time longer to stay with you. But I hope we shall (eel resigned to the will of Hea ven. I would go cheerfully, dear, it it was not for my anxiety about you and the chil dren. Now, don’t you think, my dear,” she continued, with increasing tenderness, “don’t you think it would be best for you to be mar ried again to some kind, good woman, that would be a mother to our dear little ones, and make your home pleasant for all of you.” She paused and looked earnestly in his face. “Well, I’ve sometimes thought of late, it might be best,” said Mr. Woodsum, with a very solemn air. “Then you have been thinking aboul it,” said Mrs Woodsum, with a slight contraction of the muscles of the /ace. “Why, yes, said Mr. Woodsum, “I have sometimes thought about it, since you’ve had spells of being so very sick. It makes me feel dreadfully lo think •of it, but 1 don’t know but it might be my duty.” “Well, I do think it would,” said Mrs, Woodsum, "If you cat\ only gel the,right sort of a person. Everything depends upon that, my dear, and I hope you will be very particular about who you get, very.” “I certainly shall,” said Mr. Woodsum; “don’t give yourself any uneasiness about that, my dear, for I assure you I shall be very particular. The person, 1 shall probably have is one of the kindest and best tempered women in the world.” “But have you been thinking of any one in particular, my dear?” said Mrs. Woodsum, with a manifest look of uneasiness. “Why, yes,” said Mr. Woodsum, “there is one that I have thought for some time past, that I should probably marry, if it should bo the will of providence to take you from us.” “And pray, my dear, who can it be 7” said the wife, with an expression more of earth ihan of heaven, returning to her eye. "Who is it, Mr. Woodsum? You haven’t named it to her, have you 1” ‘ Oh, by no means,” said Mr. Woodsum; “but my dear, we had better drop the subject J it agitates you 100 much.” ~ . “But Mr. Woodsum, you mast tell me who it is; I never can die in pedee till you do.’’ “It ia a subject too painful to think about,” said Mr. Woodsum, “ an d it don’t appear to me it wopld be best to call names.” “But I insist upon it,” said Mrs. Woodsum, who had by this time raised herself up with great earnestness and was leaning on her elbow, while her searching glance was read ing every muscle in her husband’s face. “Mr. Woodsum, I insist upon it.” “Well, then,” said he, with a sigh, “If you insist upon it, my dear—l have thought that ff it should be the will of Providence to take you from .us, to be here ho. more, ! have 'thought,lahoutd marry .for my second xvife, fiaonah' Lbvejoy.” , ‘ ' w*; / An earthly fire once more nashed. froro Mrs. Woodsom’s eyes—she leaped from. the bed like a cat i walked across the room; and seated herself in a chair, “What!” she exclaimed, in a trembling voice niftiest choked with agitation— *‘‘wb»ll HK •*$ *y,i ha. *'Vr ■■ ,■ VA tf>e or#mff6m amrttje Strmft of ' t ■ , :ock & co,, WELLSBOROUGH/TIOGA CODNTT, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, .MAY 24, 1855. k ' . ,•« • _ *• e and provided* is followed idsunt, ali anjiety (o team f the case. He la assured aitack of hypochrondia, and self ere long-recovers, ain, however, is our friend rom ltre plow and the doc i, to administer 'consolation dying hour, and again and cover. We give below the nd ho was very anxious to field. He accordingly had md nurse in the house, with ake good care of their moth tm was driving the team and holding the plow, and things mind till about ten o’clock in i' f \ tp } !*£ O 1 /- \ .■ r. J l. f r_. - y - •v» ' '!n - it ' “ THE AGITATION OP THOUGHT IS THE BEGINNING op WISDOM,” marry (Mi- idle, sleepy slut of a Hannah, £.o»ejoyl' Mr/Woodaum, that' is too much for flesh and blood to bear —I can’t endure that, nor 1 won’t—Hannah Lovejoytobe the toother pf, my No, that’s; wjial she never phall, ~So ypu may go. to your plowing, Mr. Woodsum, apd set your heart at, , real, i Suspn,” .she . ; C9nflbhed,; “jnake.up pinna (fan, iindenjjiai; dinner pet,”.,' . .went to the field, and pur sued his work,, and ,whpn bejeturned at noon, hn/oundj dinner wellpreparod, and his wife ready to, do (he honors pf.ihp.table, : Mta. Woodsuro’s health from that day continued to improve, , and she woe never afterwards visited by the terrjble.afleotion..of hypochron dia.—Way Down East hy Jack Downing, Fhospliornt. If is now just two hundred years since phos phorus was first obtained by Brand, of Ham burg. So wonderful was the discovery, that Kraft, an eminent philosopher of the day, gave Brand three hundred dollars for the se cret of its preparation. Kraft then travelled and visited pearly all the courts : of Europe, exhibiting phosphorus to -kings and nobles. In appearance phosphorus resembles bees wax; but it is more transparent, approaching to the color of amber. Its name, which is derived from the Greek, signifies “light bear er,” and is indicative of its roost distinguish ing quality, being self luminous. Phospho rus, when exposed to the a'tr, shines like a star, giving out a beautiful lambent greenish light. Phosphorus dissolves in warm-sweet oil. If this phosphorised oil be rubbed over the face in the dark, the features assume a ghastly appearance, and the experamentalist looks like a veritable living Will-o’-the-wisp. The origin of phosphorus is the most remark able concerning it. Every other substance with which we are acquainted can be traced either to the earth or air; IJiut phosphorus seems to be of animal origin. Of all the an imals man contains the most ;| and of the va rious parts of the body, yields by analysis more phosphorus than any other. This fact is of no little moment. Every thought has perhaps a phosphoric source. It is certain that the most intellectual beings contain the most phosphorus. It generally happens that when a singular discovery is made, many years elapse before any applica tion is made to the welfare and happiness of man. This remark applies to phosphorus. It is only the other day that It was sold at five shillings an ounce ; now it is so cheap that the penniless portion of our population telVn’to, 1 1 1 fc ,* Vi giffam.Tfire' gfv in g ol&e does it fill I For commercial purposes— match making—phosphorus is extracted from burnt bones. The demand for it is now so great that many tons are annually prepared. When Kraft travelled, he had not more .than half an ounce “ip set before the king.” Tiio Cost art War. The New York Courier says the British Government and people are begining to feel, by means of augmented taxes, that war is an expensive occupation, and the opening of the firejof the Allies suggested a calculation as to the cost of the iron balls which have been thrcj'lv into Sevastopol by the 500 cannon which have vomited them in what Gorlscha koff called “an infernal fire.” The account by the Asia represent that each of these guns fired one hundred.and twenty rounds -a day, which gives a total for the five hundred, of sixty thousand rounds. This fire had been continued for thirteen days, making an ag gregate of seven hundred and eighty thousand missiles rained upon the city. The weight of the shot fired from the guns of the Allies va ries probably from nineteen to one hundred and ten pounds—nod forty-five pounds would probably be a low estimate for an average.— This would give a daily delivery of iron to the Russians amounting to two millions seven hundred thousand pounds, and a to'tal for the thirteen days of thirty-five millions one hun dred thousand pounds, the prime cost which, in the rough, at the average iprice of pig iron in England for the last year, was not less than three hundred and thirteen thousand three hundred and eighty dollars. This is, ofcourse, without any regard to the .enormous cost of transportation to the Crimea. If the cannon balls fired from the Allied lines, during the thirteen days, were rolled into rail bars, weighing sixty pounds to the yard, the bars would extend three hundred and thirty-lwo miles. The charge of powde ■ for each gun would probably average aboit six pounds, which Would show an expenditure for the'thir teen days of four millions six hundred and eighty thousand pounds of powder. Such powder is worth here eighteen cents a pound, but in England, would not, probably* cost more than fifteen cents, at which price the powder cost seven hundred and two thousand dollars. SIAVEHOLDEBS IN THE UNITED STATES, ln 1850 according to the census, there were 846,526 slaveholders in this country. Of these 98,820 have but one slave each— -100,683 from 1 to 3 each —90,769 flora 6 to 10 each—54,565 from 10 to 20 each— -29,738 from 20 to 50 each—6,l96 from 60 to 100 each—l,479 from 100 to 200 each— -187 from 200 to 300 each—s 6 from 300 to 600-each—9 from 500 to 1000 each, and 2 over .1000. . Mbmobies, of Childhood.— The memo ries of childhood, the long, far away days of boyhood, the mother’s love and prayer, the ancient church and schpolhouse in all the green god hallowed associations, come upon the dark hour of sin and'sorrow, - as well ns in the joyous lime like passage of a pleasant ly remembered dream, and cast a ray of their own purity »nd sweetness oyer (i. GIT f, ‘.f ■“ Si; .. Discovery of & Kev People on the Western: continent. •A discovery which even in this age o£. al most daily revelations of antiquities and won ders of remote times and people, must strike iheintorid with'wonder, has just been made by tbqofiicers of the sloop of war Decatur.—lt will be-p Collected that the Decatur sailed from Rfi in company with the Massachusetts (pro peller)—that they patted company, anti that for some the loss of the Decatur was looked upon as certain. She was afterwards •dimjjvered by her consort, part way through the Srrfciiu-w Mogcftiifr, ooti -wne-rowetr nfkr the Pacific by the Massachusetts. The New Orleans Picayune of (he Ist insf pufalishesa letter received from 0. H. Green, dated on board the Decatur, “off the straits of Magel lan, Feb. 15,'* and which contains some sen timents so startling that we make the follow, ing extracts. From the apparent respecta bility of the source, we see no. reason for doubting the. narrative, remarkable as it is. The writer says : There being no. appearance of a change of weather, I obtained leave of absence for a few days, and accompanied by my classmate ond chum, Dr. Buinbridge, Assistant Surgeon, was landed on Terra del Fuego. With great labor and difficulty we scrambled up the mountain sides, which line the whole south east shores of these Straits, and after ascend ing 3500 feet, we came upon a plain of sur passing richness and beauty ; fertile fields— the greatest variety of fruit trees in full bear ing, end signs of civilization and refinement meeting us on every side. We had never read any account of these people, and think ing this island was wholly deserted, except by a few cannibals and wild beasts, we had come well armed, and you can judge of our surprise. The inhabitants were utterly as tonished at our appearance, but exhibiting no signs of fear, nor any •unfriendliness. Our dress amused them, and being the first white men ever seen by them, they imagined that we had come from their God, the Sun, on some peculiar errand of good. They are the noblest race I ever saw, the men all rang, ing from 6 feet to 6|, well proportioned, very athletic, and straight as an arrow. The wo. men were among the most perfect models of beauty ever formed, averaging 5 feel high, very plump, with small feet and hands, Juid with a jet black eye which takes you by storm. We surrendered at discretion, and remained two weeks with this strange people. Their leachers of religion speak the Latin language, and have traditions from success- They tell us that this island was*onco at (ached to (he main land; that about 1900 years ogo, by their’rccords their country was visited by an earthquake, which occasioned the rent now known as the Straits of Magel lan ; that on the top of the mountain which lifted its head to the sun, whose base rested where the waters now flow, stood their great temple—which, according to their description as compared to the one now existing we saw, must have been 17,200 feet square, and over 1100 feet high, built of the purest pantile marble. The ship sight that will carry this to you, and 1 must now close; only saying that the official report of Cambridge to the Department, will be filled with, the most in teresting and valuable matter, and astonish the American people. The vessel proves to be the clipper ship Creeper, from the Chinchi Islands, wuh guano, for your port, and I will avail myself of this opportunity to send you a specimen of painting On porcelain, said to be over 3000 years old; and an image, made of gold and iron, taken in one of their wars many years before the Straits of Magellan existed. They number about three, thousand men, women and children, and I was assured the population has'not varied two hundred, ns they pVove by their traditions, for immemo rial ages.' As the aged grow feeble they are lefi to die, and if the children multiply too rapidly they are sacrificed by their priests. This order comprises about-one tenth of the population, and what the ancient Greeks called “Gymnophists.” They are all of one peculiar race, neither will they admit a stran ger into their order. They live, for the most part, near the beautiful stream called Tanu- takes its rise in the mountains, passes through the magnificent valley ofLe uvu, and empties into the Atlantic at the ex treme south western point. This residence is chosen for the sake of their frequent purification. Their diet con sists of milk, curdled with sour herbs. They eat apples, rice, and all fruits and vegetables, esteeming it the height of impiety to taste anything that has life. They live in little huts or collages, each one by himself, avoid ing company and discourse, employing all their time in contemplation, nnd their religi ous duties. They esteem this life but a nec essary dispensation of Nature, which they voluntarily epdure as ft penance, evidently thirsting afier the dissolution of their bodies; and firmly believing that the soul at death, is released from prison, and launches forth-in to perfect liberty and happiness. Therefore they are. always cheerfully disposed to die, bewailing those who are alive, nnd celebra ting the funerals of the dead, with joyful so [enmities and triumph.— North American. A Baroirr Bov.—A pedagogue in. this neighborhood related to me a laughing story of one of his scholars, a sbrf of-the Emerald Isle. He told him to spell hostility. “H-o-r-s-e, horse,” commenced Pat,' “Not ftdrse-tility,” said the teacher, “but Aea-filitjr;” ' “Sure,” replied Pat, “an’ didn’t ye tell me the other' day not to say hoss 1 Be jibbers I its wan thing wid ye one flay and another the next.” ! Knickerbocker, AT 0 H i (t ■ t i \ POLISHERS & PROPRIETdRS: Pram thtSvniay tiecury. Why Jfaba Stole the Banket- John McDonnell, s young man, ttiih to open prepossessing countenance, was nought up for stealing a lady’s bonnet from if milli nery stoxe ip Second street, it is nodi com mon e*ent, m the .course of human affairs, for a young map to steal a bonnet—lndeed, the case was‘singular enough to excis gene ral curiosity; the mdypr himself aeemjd atlx ious to know why John’s pickers shoun have fallen oh a bonnet rather then a bat, or the um,ir Wah |er a tong and faithful service. “Why did you steal a bonnet, John hfcDon nalir*. - r | “An, your honor, it’s n Worry delicate sob ject, and I’d rather say nothing about it) if it’s, ail the same to you and the other gentleman.’’ ‘.‘Have you a wife 7” | “Divil a one.” ■ “A mother or sister, “Not a taste, please your honor,” ( “Then what use did you intend to nnkeof the bonnet T” • 1 "Must I tell you worship 7 Why, then, it was faking Nelly Callahan over Schuylk'll Inst Sunday that led to the whole calamity.— Tho ould scratch instigated me to khs her among the blackberry bashes, and she fit against the civility (ill her straw bonnet was used up like a crunched egg shell.” “There, says she you’ve ruined, me. 1 ’ “How’s that 7” says I. I : “Why,” says she “you’ve kissed the head off of me and spiled my best bonnet besides, and if thats not ruination I’d like to know what is.’’ “Never mind,” says I, “there’s not much ’harm done yet; and I’ll pay all the dama ges.” Says she, “if you don’t get me another bonnet, yoy willain, I’ll sue you for high travson, and so, your honor, I was obliged to do‘it.” “To do what?” “Gel her another bonnet. There was no shying off; the bonnet bad to come by hook or crook, and so 1 hooked it. If 1 must go the voyage, let me speak a word of advice to the young men which is now present, slan din’ in solemn silence around this inclosber. Take warnin’ by my melancholy fale, and kiss the gals moderate; don’t smash their bonnets. And now, gents, lam ready to suf fer. I hope the gent who is taking down the •perceedings will sartify that I bore it with manly fortitude. It’s a crashing affair, and I have a sneaking notion that my heart is ih.„ Mot 1 - r>.,'iotiaT>’» bon net. The milliner lady from whom the bonnet was stolen w.as-deeply affected, and consider ing that the thefi was committed under the influence of “almighty love," she declined to prosecute, and at her earnest request tho erring lover was set at liberty. Jones Tells His Experience. When I was a boy, my father, who was a good man, sent me to school, and gave me what he called a liberal education. It cost' him four dollars and seventy-five cents. 1 went to school during the winter. In tho summer I remained at home ; I plowed, sowed, I raked, I mowed. I was a farmer’s boy. Well, I grew older. I taught school. I studied law. Law didn’t agree with me— thought to become a minister of the Gospel, but my conscience wouldn’t allow me. I went into a grocery store as a clerk. It was a country grocery store, and its stock was made up of sugars, lace, candies, crockeries, tea, tinware, whiskey, whips, molasses and an infinite number of articles, which, accor ding to the advertisement, were foo numerous to mention. 1 advanced; I bought out my employer; I grew rich every day, and finally with a cash capital of five thousand dollars, I came to New York, and went into an exten sive business. I prospered ; 1 married; and at length I “burst,” I fell bad. I had a wife—yes, I had a wife. She ran away with ray bookkeeper.— I felt bad. . Well, one morning I found myself a wid ower, and in debt, and I could not pay my debts, so I shifted the responsibility, and ran away with—myself. I didn’t feel quite so bad. I had five hundred dollars. I bought a suit of clothes and a bunch of cigars. I went to Boston. I thought Boston a nice—a very nice place; the people were nice; the stores were nice; but somehow or other, everything and everybody were 100 nice for me. Men looked sharp at me over (heir pointed collars, the women didn't look at me at all. My star was on the wane. 1 felt bad. I went to my hotel. I counted my money —I had two hundred dollars. I meditated. I fell bad. Resolved to go to New York; packed my trunk and went to New York.— Creditors arrested me; compelled me to swear how much I was worth ; swore 1 wasn’t worth a cent, I was set at liberty.— Fall belter. Counted my money; one’ hun dred dollars. Felt, worse. As editor who was elected to the Indiana Legislature, was so elated with his success that he caught himself by the seat of his trowsersand tried to hold himself out at arms length. It is added in a postscript that he would have.accomplished the feat if be had not let go to spit on his hands. Af very, steady old farmer was betting against a rouletie table. Upon expressing a a vmy natural surprise at this sight, the old gentlemen assured us, upon his honor he 1 didn’t want a cent of their money. “Why are you plaving then I” “Because they’ve got about Jffly dollars of mine." . F f W :.? <,mma ni(iea ore more strongly in>- faued withe passion for borte-rtofog.-ih* tl« good pepptaofKalcfbea. JosNsw York, folk* /.W 1 Vand -cngine;” in Paris ibsy thJ LT * ,he * “ik vJww." They believe P %3]»dr»(edi l ..«Bd' ino( hing dee. . Toown .lhe &eteai horse in Natohe* is to enjoy the fjo simple of an honor in com* panson with which, a member of Conans* sinks Into nothingness* . * In .October lost, the “/allnjeetiDg" took place, and led lo mpre than the usual quanta |y of excitement and brandy cocktails. Tho last race of the last day, Isas a sort of “fray fight,” open to. erery horse ,th«t bad asywr won a race; purse, 5500, entrance, 529. Among those who proposed to go in, wits 8 with a sorrel colt, of rather, promising proportions. He thud eddrweaJ one of the judges j— “I say, Captain, I should like to go is for that puss I” “With what 7” “That sorrel colt.” “Is he speedy t” _ “I calculate be is, or I would not wish far risk a load of tin-ware on the result.” “Do you know the terms V . lee'&jo*; arnTfifereYntelffiries.”' * ~ ~ »( :*J:- ■ ■. m.\ 45. Here Yankee drew out a last century val* let, and socked up two X.’s and a V. Among those who witnessed the operation, was Jack Rink, of (he Bellevue House. Jack saw his customer, and immediately measured him for an entertainment. After the usual fuss and palaver, (he horses were brought up—l he Yankee gathered up bis reins and adjusted bis stirrups. While doing ibis, Mr. Rink went to the rear of “the sorrel colt,” and placed a chestnut-burT under bis tail. The next moment, the order to “go," was given,. and away went nine horses ■ of all possible ages and conditions. The Yankee’s was ahead, and kept there. “Tin-Ware" wjsevi dently pleased with the way things were working, and smiled a smile that seemed lo j say, “that puss will be mine, in less time than ( it would take a greased nigger to slide down a ( soaped liberty pole." Poor fellow! he hado’t reckoned on that chestnut burr. The “irritant” . that Jack Rink had administered, not only mcreased tha animals velocity, but bis ugliness. He hot only ran like a deer, but he refused “to do” anything else. As the Yankee approached the Judges stond, he undertook to pull up, but it was no go. He might as well have un dertaken to slop a thunder-bolt with a yard of fog. The Yankee reached (he„ stand—(he Yan kee passed the stand—the Yankee went down I the road. When last seen, the Yankee was I passing through the “adjoining” county at a speed that mode the people look at him as “that comet,” that was to make its appear ance in the fall of 1854.” Where the sor rel gin out, it is impossible to say. All we know, is, that the Yankee has never been heard of from that day to this, while his wagon load of tin ware still makes one of the leading attractions in the Museum of Natchez. Hi sts to Young Married Women.— After the baby is two months old, your inter est in u =,iv«to “'■'■-Mra, u you cannot ex pect to be consistent for a longer time man that—besides it is entirely unfashionable to lie yourself to your duties as a mother, just for the sake of your first and only child. You can, after three months has elapsed, transfer your affections and cares in • your first child, to the German or Irish domestic. They, of course from the very nature of the case, will have a greater interest in it than its mother dught to have, and be a fash ionable member of society. As soon as it advances into the regions of chicken pox, mumps, measles, scarlet fever, teething and all the'dangers to which un weaned children are'subject to, insist upon a nurse—declare that you are extremely sus ceptible to contagion of all sorts—put tho child out for its health, ond you will realise peace and quiet by day, and innocent ond re freshing sleep at night, at no other expense than avoidance of your duty as a mother be fore Heaven, who has given you your con science as a woman. —Buffalo Republic. Size op Lennon.—London extends over an area of 78,029 acres, or 122 .square miles and the number of its inhabitants, rapidly in creasing, was soma 2,902,233 on the day of the last census. A conception' of this vast mass of people may be formed by the fact that, if the metropolis were surrounded by a wall, having four gates, ond each of the four gates were of sufficient width to allow a col umn of persons to pass out four abreast, and a peremptory necessity required the immedi ate evacuation of the city, it could not be ac complished under four and twenty hours, by the expirotioq of whicb-time the head of each of the four columns would have advanced a no less distance than seventy-five miles frofti their respective gates, all the people being in close file four deep. ■ Proving Character.—' Do you know the prisoner, Mr. Jones V “Yea, to ihe bone:” “What ia his character!” , "Didn’t know he had.any. - ” “Does he live near you 7” “So near that he bas.only spent five shil lings (or firewood in eight years.” “Did he ever come into collision with you in any matter?” - “Only once, and that was when he was drunk, and mistook me fora lamp post." “From-what you know of him would you believe him under oath 7 • . “That depends upon circumstances. If be was so much intoxicated that ho did not know what he was doinng, I would. If not I wouldn’t. ■ The Spanish iNauismoN. —In the Ro mish inquisition in Spain alone, as its «*n record shows, in the last 300 years, 17,090 persons have been burnt in effigy, 34,332 burnt alive,End 261,450 imprisoned, scourged, torturedi etc} average number of its Victims thus being 'Seen to be over n thousand per year, or rnote than three every day. “Mother,” said a boy, is there any harm in breaking egg-shells 7" .'“Certainly not, my dear, but why doiyouask?” ‘‘Cause I drop, ped the basket of eggs just now, and ateppet) on the shells,” Jack Blok and Itaa Yankee.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers