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.