BENEVOLENT INTENTIONS. A benevolent man was Absalom Bos*- At aach and every tale of distress , He hjaz«4 op rocket; He felt for all woo, ‘neftth poverty** rawri) Were doomed to beer HfVe psrtr Hi felt for them 10 Us Inmost hm& fiot oevar Celt in Mipockel. YfliftU«io4£ft wftn«»ifrnioM». , ' 'Tor the poor ke’d pree<fi» for poor he’d To better them be wtd wOling; But the oldest one who Bed heard him pray, *• And preach for the poor in a plttfal *Vj • Ooaldn't remember exactly to sa; He had erer given s ilmllng. Oh I an excellent man was Abeolom Beer And the world threw tip its has ds to hies* Whenever hi* name was mentioned; But he died one day, he did, and oh. He went right down to the shades below, Where ail are bound, I fear, to go. Who are ofdy good toteotlpDcd- S&ctcfc. Butterfield at the Ball—AOolUbrnla Sketch. BV JOUN PIKBNIX. Tt ou have noi. heard Iroro me for some time. I have been “ around,” however, which is a pleasant metaphorical way of ex pressing the fact that I have been about, and is not intended as an allusion to my figure, though ! weigh two hundred and forty-three net, and u may appear appropriate to scoff ers. I have been attending closely lo my legitimate business, and do not mind saying (hat 1 have been tolerably successful, 1 did s little in buiter last week, not alter the man ner of the celebrated sculptor, Canova—who, 1 am told, used to carve horses and other animals out of that oleaginous substance, which looked well, but became unpleasant to the smell in a short time—but in the way of speculation, which increased my satisfac tion and my balance at Doolittle, Walker <k Leggett’s, my bankers,-in no small de ers' 1 wss silling in my counting-room a'few days since, in an amiable frame of mind, thinking of that butter which I had sold to i manufacturer to grease the wheels of his manufactory, and wondering whether its strength increased the power-of the machin ery. when Podgers, oI Gawk tc Podgers, Battery street, dropped in “ Butterfield,” said he, “don’t you want to go to a bad i” A vision of Mrs. Butterfield, resplendent in a new dress, which, though of late im portation, she calls “ more antique ” passed before my mind. I thought of the dance at Doolittle's, and, in my usual prompt and de cided manner, replied “Well,! don’t Know ’ “ It's a compli mentary ball,” said Podgers, " given for the beneti! o r the officers o' the Army and N tv), and comes off at Madame Pike's on Friday ’ f The names is Pique, and is pro nounced Pi quet, but Podgers don’t under stand French Now, I always liked the officers. Poor fellows, they looked so prettily in their brass mounted clothes, and walked ‘around with suen a melancholy air, as though they were wondering now they managed to support existence on their pay and allowance— and how the deuce they do puzzles me ! 80, alter a few words more with Podgers, we started off to purchase me necessary paste-board. I suppose it was because the bal. was a national affair that he weal la the Dmted States Mint for that purpose.— Here wo were introduced to a singularly nandsome young fellow, wno gazed ralher dubiously on Podgers and myself jrhen tae oreierred our request. 181 " The ball is to be very select," said he. “ Ah.” replied I, “ lhat’s exactly the rea son we wish to paironlze it." The voung gentleman could not withstand me smite with which these words were ac companied. “ What name ?” said nt " Butterfield,” i rentier, 11 Flour and pork,” said RCT with a kind tv expression 11 Corner of Battery and Front,” 1 answer ec. and tne thing was oom Podgers got ms ticket also ; and wo left tne Mint, arm in arm, wondering if the love tv design (or a head on me new three dollar piece was intended (or a likeness of the United Slates Treasurer, of whose ngree ao/e countenance we caugtit a glance as we retire.' Mri. Butterfield was delighted, so was Austin, I fancy. lie seal me a note a day or two alter, very prettily conceived, with 11 fionuor.. Valenciennes, point, edging, ” idg,.other hard words in it, which must nave giver, him great gratification to com pos , purchased of Keyes (noi that Koves. out the other firm) a new blue dress cos. will brazen buttons, military you snow, g pair of cinnarrton-colored leg-scab oarus. ano a very tasty thing in the way of a vest, garnet-colored velvet, with green plush cross bars, in which I fancied I should cre ate sometniog ot a sensation. I also drop* nee it. a: Tucker's, and seemp a pretty oreasipm in the form of a figure 2, which ne saic was a tasteful conceit lor married men, snowing that mere were iwo in the iamii\. i iiouchi that also, and hereby ac knowledge mat u has given ,ine great satis- lacuo. Friday evening at last arrived. Podgers > was io come lor us in a carnage at eight! o ciock, amfNwe commenced dressing at I inree, immediately after dinner. My friends I nave aomeumes flattered me by remarking i aomet mg in n j r an( j p ersona | a pn ear . ; ance resembling lhe lale e , ( D K aoiel Hebster, (formerly Secretary if Stale un. aer Pvlers administrate After dress ing and going through me operatlon which Mrs. Butterfield unpleasantly te rmB pr i n ij. mg, I walled into the room of our next neighbor—-wo board .at the corner of Stock ton and Powell—under the pretense of ho,, rowing a candle. He was sitting by the fire, smoking a cigar, and reading Tennyson's Poems, which 1 take this, opportunity of de claring are the silliest trash I ever had the misfortune to gel hold of 11 Mi. Brummell,'’ said I, complacently, “ ao you think I look, at all like the great Daniel ”■ 6 brummell gated on tne with evident ad miration. “ *es,” he replied, “ but you are notnear *° heavy as he was.” "No i" said I, << Why, Daniel Webstar Wa ®h° l ienlarge mar. ” . *1! re P lie ‘ l he, “ I thought you allu ded t 0 Darnel Lambert ” ■ • ' was a aampc . * rp-.ii jv • y SWMrti to tee SSyteneiott at tbe ates or jF«rtforoA^^ CDBfe; STmmbcK & cb:, TOL. 2. We. worked for three mortal hours get ting little Amos to sleep.. That child is two years of age, possesses a wakefulness of disposition perfectly astonishing in one ao young, and has a pleasing peculiarity of howling terribly in the night at intervals of about twenty-five minutes. Paregoric and taffy were too much (or him this lime, how ever; he succumbed at last, and dropped peacefully to repose at half-past seven, to a second. At eight, Podgers and the carriage arrived. Mrs. Podgers came up into Mrs. Butterfield’s room toshoro herself, Slje was tastefully and magnificently attired. She wore a while crape illusion, with - eighteen flounces, over a profusely embroidered tulle skirt, looped up on the side with a bouquet of Swiss meringues. Her bodice was of a seagreen tabinet, with an elegant pincushion of orange-colored moire antiques over the bertha. Her head-dress was composed of cut velvet cabbage leaves, with turnip au naturel , and a small boned turkey, secured by a a golden wire, “ a la maitre d’hotel,” crowned the structure. Podgers gazed up on her with complacent and pardonable pride. We descended to the carriage ; but find ing it impossible for all of us to ride within, Mrs. Podgers stood up on the seal with the driver, Mrs. IJ. and I got inside, and Pod gers walked. (By-the-way, on this account, he subsequently, in an unjustifiable manner, objected to paying his portion of the expen ses of transportation, as had been agreed upon between us.) On arriving at Mrs. Pique’s, I regret,to say an unpleasant alter cation look place between myself and our driver on the subject of the fee. I was fin ally compelled to close the discussion by dis bursing ten dollars, which that disagreeable individual unnecessarily remarked “ was only about a dollar a hundred after all.”— On entering the hall, which was brilliantly illuminated, we were struck with its size and elebarate ornaments, and also with the un pleasant fact that nobody was there. The fact ist we had arrived a little too early.— However, we amused ourselves walking about, and Podgers got into the supper room, where he broke a sugar chicken off the top; of a large cake to carry home to his little Anna Maria, and, being delected therein, was summarily ejected, and had the chicken taken away from him, at which Mrs. 6. and I secretly rejoiced. At ten o’clock the com pany began to arrive, and in half an hour the large hall was .crowded with the beau ty, fashion and extravagance of the city. It .really brought tears uf delight yi my oy«« u see the number of lovely women that San Francisco can produce, and to think what immense sums of money their beautiful dres ses must cost their husbands and fathers.— Sets of quadrilles wete formed; then fol lowed the fancy dances, polkas, redowas, -and that funnydance where the gentleman grabs ' the ■ lady about the waist with one hand and pumps hoc arm up and down with the other, while hopping violently from side to side, after the manner of that early and estimable Christian, St, Vitus. I cannot pretend to enumerate the ladies whose charms particularly impressed me, .More over, if I could, it would be of little service to the public, for it is in the fashion to do this sort of thing by initials ; and who would recognize lovely Mrs. A., with her ugly daughter, in white cottonet, and magnificent C,, the cynosure of all eyes in a peig noir of three-ply carpeting, with a corsage de gunny §ag, and the point applique robe de nuit; or the sweet Misses C., in elabor ate Swiss ginghams, with gimp cord tassels, and afautuil de cahroilet. Suffice it to say, that the loveliest ladies of San Francisco were there; and the belle of the evening was unquestionably Miss , though many preferred the mature charms of the radiant Mrs. . (You percei'e that these blanks are left for the convenience of those who wish to send this description to the eastern Stales, who hereby have my express per mission to insert any names they may think appropriate.) One lady [ observed, whose dress, though no great judge of,dry goods, I shoultj imagine to have cost in the neigh borhood of filly barrels of mess pork. Eve rything went off admirably. Wobble*, of Wobbles & Slrycum, who was present with his daughter, a young lady of nine years, with a violent propensity to long curls, dres sed iu crimson silk, with orange colored pan taletls—Wobbles, who has a pretty way of saving poetical things, remarked, with greet originality, that;“Bofl eyes spoke love to eyes that spke again, and jail went berry as a marriage mell,” and I agreed with him. The officers were all there, moreover, ra diant in brass coats and blue buttons—l mean blue buttons and brass coats—a-look mg divinely. One of them accidentally trod on my toe ; but before I could utter the ex clamation of anguish that 1 was about to give vent to, he said _ao sweetly—“ Don’t apolo gise,” that the pain left, me in a moment. The officers of the Vincennes, though suffi ciently handsome, are.not (all. meo.. This, Podgers remarked, was a. dispensation of Di vine Providence, as- the Vincennes is only four Teel six inches between decks, and they would he continually bumping their heads if they were tailor. , Ailwo o'clock wo sat down: to supper, Magnificent indeed-t-r-iurkeys, chickens, sal ads, champagne—everybody gobbling, .and guzzling everything, presenting to my mind a far finer spectacle than the vaunted Falls of Niagara, which I think, have been overrated. Podgers, who is always doing somethin" unpleasant, emptied a plate of oyster soup on my head, merely saying, “Beg paidon, Butterfield,” in consequence of which I found a largb stewed oysler in my right whisker on returning to" the ball-room, and was made exceedingly uncomfortable during i ‘‘ THK AGITATION pF THOUpHT IS THJE BSg’iNNINO. OF^WJUD'pk^’ 1 " l! ' WELLSBOKOTOH, TIOGA COOiTl:. PA., raTOP4i:^MK®i'APfitt ■HpmftSS the rest of the morning. The half was delightful. ' f heard the con sul of New Zealand say it was rdtistant , and,' though with but adim idea or his mean ing, lam sure it was. 'We returned home at half-past three, a. m. The street of our residence was lighted up as if for a celebra tion ; people stood around (be door steps, and an old gentleman with a watchman’s rat tle in his band, both slightly sprung, was leaning out of an upper window of No. 3 be low. A loud shout hailed us as we approa ched ; but high above that shout, loud above the whirr of the rattle, shrill above the roll ing of, our carriage, sounded an alarm that we recognized but too, well. It was the voice of our little Amos. The dear child had woke up the whole street; and it was a marvel that he had not awakened the. sleep ers in John Jones’ of Peter’s cemetery, just beyond ; for (he name of Butterfield, as you well know, is synonymous with that of truth —but if that boy had not shattered every pane of glass in our front windows, and loos ened all the top bricks of the chimney by the concussion of air produced by screaming I wish I may never sell another lot of clear bacon. The paper was loosened from the walls, the plastering was falling from the ceiling, the wash basin and—eveverylhing was broken, and there lay Amos,.black in the face,,p-gurgling in his throat, and his small blue legs kicking up towards Heaven. We,did not get to sleep until late that morn ing, and what with damages, repairs, hack drivers, dresses and tickets, the little balance at Doolittle, Walker & Leggett’s is nearly exhausted. • • " Perhaps we slmll ' go to another half at Madame Pique’s soon ; if so, 1 will send you an account of it. Very truly yours, AMOS ..BUTTERFIELD. Flour and Pork corner of Battery and Front St. Country orders promptly solicited and filled, etc. [After the foregoing sketch had appeared in the California papers, the following card was published :j Having noticed in one of the morning pa pers, a few days ago, a communication from one Butterfield, coutaining certain insinua tions calculated to do serious damage to my reputation, 1 feel called upon to indignantly deny every allegation therein contained ; and to save trouble to deny firstly, that I ever went to the ball; secondly, that I ever went euppor Xuuu, , lordly, 11,01 ihoy did not succeed in getting the sugar chicken away from me as I have it yet; and lastly, in refusing to pay ,my share of the carriage biro. It was stipulated that the caniage hire should not be more than two dollars a head for the ladies, and one dollar each for the' gems..; and moreover, nothing was said at the time of Mrs. ■ Butterfield’s intention to wear a whalebone balloon—called a skirt— thus “chousing’’ -Mrs. Podgers and myself out of our portion of said carriage, and, ex cept for the name of it, we might as well have gone afoot—especially myself. Fuller particulars will be given whenever they are wanted. In the meantime, I ask “a suspen sion of opioion in the public mind,” and trust that 1 shall be ready with the necessary evidence abouthbe time it is determined who struck a respectable citizen named William Patterson. "PODGERS.” I have understood, Mr. Thinker, that now adays, almost all of the destitute churches look for a man who can do “fancy work,” and are determined to call no other. The Rev. Mr. Goodman, the pastor of a church in New England, once asked a dis mission from his people. A council was called ; and it soon appeared that his people wished to get rid of him, rather than he of his people. The following dialogue took placp between the Moderator of the council and one of the Deacons of the church. Moderator. Why, deacon Allthings, do you wish to have your pastor leave yog ! Is he nol,a godly man? Deacon A. That he is ; I rejoice to say it. We are all witnesses,nod God also, how holily, and justly, and u'tblameably, he has behaved himself among us. Moderator. What is the matter, then? Does he not preach the truth ? Deacon A. He docs, very fully nod clear ly, He. has “kepi back nothing that was profitable’! to us. He. has pot “shunned to declare unto us the whole.counsel of- God.” Moderator;. Has be been deficient jo pri vate labors 1 Deacon A. Not at all. He has not only taught us “pujblicly,” but “from house to house.” He hit? been instant in season and out of season.” Moderator. Well then, is he a cold, un feeling preacher? Deacon A. Far from it. It can truly be said of him, ha has “ceased not to warn every one, night and day, with teats.!’ Moderator. Do tell us, then, Deacon All things, why you wish to get rid of: him. Deacon A. Why-tsir, Mr. .Goodman ift a pious,' worthy minister ;<he is very Ihithful, and I love, him much;' but it somehow hap pens (hat he is not popular. He fails, os a body may say, in "fancy work.” Ours is a growing place; and we think it important to have a smarter man—a man who will draw in retire of the young people and men of in fluence. We must nave a man who is good at “fancy work.” So all our leading men thinkr-squire Mittimus, and Dr. Bolus,.and Mr. Yardstick, the rich Merchant, and Judge Mandamus; and, to speak plainly—l .thick so too. The Rov, Mr. Goodman was dismissed* ! is* »-'-■J tl .-‘M- A CARD. Fancy Work. rnp M O] Mill I) VO OK'l 0 >!•/ *.■ .<■' tl U!o arts The Old Tillage Oharch. The editor of the Knickerbocker -attributes the following-to Ike Marvel;,and it is cer tainly worthy of him Says the Priioiwr't Friend from which we copy it: “Last evening’ we ware 1 walking leisurely along. The music of choirs in three church es came floating out into the darkness around us, and they were all new and strange tune* but one; and that one, it was hot sung as we haye heard' it, but it awakened a train of long bUried memories, that rhse'fo useven as they were before' the cemetery of the - soul had a tomb in ft. li was sfveet old ‘•'Corinth" (hey were singing—strains hitve sel dom heard since the rose color of lifSw'aa blanched ; end we were in a •moment back,' again to thi old chiifch; end it was o sum mer afternoon and yellow surib'eams were streaming through the west windows, and thq silver hair of the old deacon, who sat in the pulpit, was turned to gold in its light, and the minister, wio we used to think cquld never die, so good, was.he, had concluded “applica tion” and “exhortation,” apd the village choir were singing. the last hymn,and the tune was “Corinth.” “It is years—we dare not think how many since then—and the. “prayers of David the son of Jesse,” are ended, and the choir are scattered and gone—the girl with blue eyes that sang alto, and the girl with black eyes that sang air ; the eyes of the one were like a clear June heaven at noon. They both be came wives, and 1 both mothers; and .they both died. Who shall say they are not sing ing “Corinth” still, where Sabbaths never wane and congregations never break' up! There they sat Sabbath after Sabbath’, by (he square column at the right of the “leader and to our young ears their tones were the very Soul of music. That column bears itill their pencilled names as thtey wroie'them in those days in life’s June, 183-^before dreams of chapge had overcome their spirits like a summers cloud. Alas that with the old singers most of the sweeter tunes have died upon the air! but thiy linger, in memory, and they shall yet be qung in the swept reunion of song that shalltake place. by, and’by, ,in a hall, whose columns are beams of morning liglii, whose ceiling is pearl, whose floors are gold and where hair never turns silvery, and hearts never grow old. ‘ Then she that sang alto and she that sarig'air will be Iri their places once more. Greeley-phobia. The New York Picayune thus hits off the habits some people have of attributing all the evils in the land to the-influence of Horace Greeley: t According to many of our .cotemporaries, Horace Greeley has been at the -bottom of nearly every crime of consequence or inter est that has been perpetrated, or pernicious doctrine that had' been exposed for the-last three or four years Naturally alarmed at such depravity on the part' Of ona of our prin cipal editors, we have made diligent inquiry as to what the Philosopher will be up to in the future—and have ascertained that he is at' present— Plotting the death of the President. Making arrangements for the massacre of the Cabinet. Trying to introduce Yellow Fever into the city. Buying a couple of powder mills .on the Brandywine Creek to be blown up for his own amusement. Filing thin places in the boilers of North river steamboats, and hiring the captains to race their boats. Bullying the peanut market. , ,j Endeavoring to increase the price of flour to $l5 a barrel. Buying up, with Solon Robinson’s assist ance, all the beef cattle in market, in order to raise the price-of steak to $1 a pound. And going out nights poisoning favorite dogs, and stoning the pel cats of old maids smoking in the faces of people—insulting un protected females—throwing vitriol on peo ple’s clothes, besides performing a variety of other pretty misdemeanors in his leisure mo ments, such'aS rli'nmhg pins through flics— pinching infants in their cradels pulling door bells and running away, merely to oc cupy him in the absence of opportunity for greater mischief. A small party of ladied'ftn'd gentlemen, were laqghing over the supposed awkwardnes attending a declaration of love, when a gen tleman remarked thnt if ever he offered him self he would do it id and business like manner. “For instance,” h'econtinued, addressing a young My present, “f would say, Miss S—-,I have been two years looking for a wife. 1 am in the receipt of abpul a thousand dollars a year from my'busi ness, which is on the increase. Of oil the ladies of my acquaintance, 1 admire you the most, indeed I love you, and would gladly make you my wife.” “You flatter me by your preference,{food’ humnredly 1 replied Miss S ,to the surprise of all present; “I refer you to my father.” “Bravo ! ex claimed the gemlemdn. “Well, 1 declare” —said thq ladles in chorus. The lady and gentleman, .good reader, were soon ’after mar ried. Wasn’t lljiat a’Vnbtjeai way oT“’coming to at|d‘a’lady Jlke method'to take 'qwt.fUJifc w,brd t ' ’* ' The Phrenological■ Journal' says that 'in sleeping, thd”p6stdVe should be chosVrt" which Is prbpioiive oi (Icel and full InbpifatmnVbe pause nature renders ihb laitbf’deeper 'whea V&ojfa ln ,acUqn. .. Hence,' a, High pilfbw, hV Ofamjllbg both I fie windpipebtid ’ hloodvbsiblji l^'il''b(rd. ?b9M!4 TA 13 , 1 w iT/ l c V«ri • * JUv'i - ; i,. -:r. »■ i, ) » •' • \\}^ '• r T i i LiVi.,' I u-<j ;»< ,7! r- : - : -= ii 1o ll PUBMaHBRB &r PROPRIETORS. Legend of tie Twisted Tree. I was brought up in the “grand old woods,” perhaps. lam sure they were old enough, for 1' have counted more tha’n fire hundred grains on a pine tree, and have seen ..much larger ones. Yet there was nothing so par ticularly romantic and grand as story writers describe in wooded coumries. It was hot so wondrously rocky,, barren and hilly'as New England, nor werp lha woods so lovely as (he Kentucky forests are said to be. We had no craggy nor leaping waterfalls, nor smiling,prairies j. and 1 believe we all grew to think (here was nothing, in particular to lose or gain, albeit some of us cling to it yet most tenaciously. Yes, our town was com monplace. There was no stream Ihrge enough to catch a fish’in,.there was no hill where I could look abroad more than a mile or two, and then only against another hill covered with those same old trees. Those same trees were a beautiful sight though, when we had climbed the highest hill we could find on a nulling excursion, when Oc tober had put on her gayest robes. But I always knsw there must be a history to these old woods. The earliest violet that sister Louisa always found, the spring-beauty, (hat nodded at me and called me whenever 1 came in sight, (old me so and invited me to come and learn il; the pine sang of it, and every tree the woodman felled, told mournfully that the history was being lost. The woods are disappearing, slowly yet purely, and { find now, and then a hill, where I can look off and see a road or a..patch of clearing and a smoke through the trees. . i 'went up one of these hills on a neighbor’s farm one summer, to see what 1 could see. I found rather a fine view, a' hill two miles to the easl, with a, road with which I was very familiar, hut. which looked strange from q strange'standpoint, winding among the trees; the dry, red soil gleaming under the afternoon sun, between the forest green that hemmed il in; on the west was a cleared hill that completely bewildered me, and sent mo look ing in an opposite direction for the house it belonged to, of that belonged to it, —which ? On the tpp of this hill there was standing what the country people call a “stub.” It was the remains of a large oak tree, but of an oppearance I had never seen before. It was a atrip little more than two feet wide, and. ten or twelve inches thick,—the remain der, seeming to have been'’burned away,— which in’rising’some filteen feet, twisted tone and a half,limes around. The rest of flie view directly lost its interest, for the old tree began,to whisper of its story, and before I left had given me the following account of itself:, ■ Years and years, ago, when, the largest pines om these hills were just beginnings to grow, an Indian tribe had its encampment for' a season that spring in the valley yonder, and roamed the woodsTearless and free. The children’s fairies -had not yet forsaken the earth, and they often came out in groups to meet the Indian children, when they wan dered alone, and watched them, end helped them when in trouble, and sometimes arrested the arrow which was aimed at some defense less bird, for the birds and the fairies were firm friends. They danced to the yellow bird’s song, and the wood thrush tolled the funeral notes when a fairy died, for the red man was growing wicked, and that drove the elves away, as the pale face has driven the Indian. The spicy wintergreen grows on this hill, and the children came here to gath r or berries, and ran races, and played games, and learned to love their country, and the land which afforded them so many pleasures. But one summer there came among them a.very wicked boy. He quarrelled with his males, claimed the best places and best play things, and when he had broken his arrow, would take one by force from his little play fellow, The fairy whose especial charge he was, often remonstrated with him; when be slept on the ground she came to tell him that evil would surely come to him if he persisted in doing so much evil to olheija. And then the elves joined inclior.us, and sang to all the children in praise of goodness, and bade them beware of the evil that was in Wylee’s heart. The children told it to their parents, and Ip VVylee’s mother, —for his father was gone to the war, and she tried to teach him better things, hut it was of little avail, for his heart ■was very- wicked.' -One Summer day they were on the hill, and had gathered flowers and tried their bows and' arrows as usual till time to go home, When Wylee drew his bow ‘at a yellow bifd that- Ivbb singing her parting song a little way off. The'fa ties came out riuging 'Sweel" music from'their little bells ttthde of wintergreen blossoms, and begging Wylee to desist, for the bird was to be their minstrel at a grand feast the next day, and they warned him tfi At ha good would come if he killed little Mqnee.' But the’ nexfin ?tant,the bird Igy lifeless on the ground, and W y leta picking up his arrow turned carelessly [ homeward. , . ’ That night the warriors came homo. They had been unsuccessful in battle, and when .Vjf-jlnp’s. l v . a 9, known (o them ."they Jipew tjie. Great Spirit wps.oflended,.arid would not favor them till Wylee was pun ished.. They held a solemn council that night, .forth* wood thrush sang longer, and m ore .mournfully, than usual, and they (qared Wy •lee’s,good-spirithad.,departed. They resol ved that,he should.ha punisihadMjfin fpiries wiight direct, as,a, warning to the oiher chil dren,- ond,to-,appease ihe. spiritq iWjjjq, were angry with.them- The next ,m9|nf -ingacumbipr of the best.hoys wefo .selected to go id tho'ht!!• loses what; was, to j'Thb fairies' werc ntaurniug. around, the dead c-. .a- ; . ]f. ts\ h T **> I bt mseaJhb; ' t lS3V^n^r~Tompatiior)., WylebVwrcKed-' ness had killed her, children awaited in silence their commands. When themourn ful clunks. . »wrd the children and sptd, -‘Tpe Manitou has. de cided! ; Let the 'warriors bring VVylee to tha hill at need, and bind 'him fb the (red ipfm which he shot the birlf.’* Thejfturjfea (fwfs j, dhd the children went tack 1 tb ihe 'HaVriJi, Wylee had no brother or sister, and if he waptaKen away, hismother could Walk nb niord With the’ women wh'p wefS qducaiing their sens for braves, but 1 she" bWde ht.m' gb; and hid ' herself In the hut tb rtourn 'alode, AH’the others went 'to the hill, add at noon Wy lee was bonntf'lo the'tree! "The fairies had departed, btut the warriors had hafdfy'i"o.i treated a 1 little way' from the’.'ti'ee, wfjen it form of grave aspect stoddfbeside it, to’pra* nounce W >• lee’s aenibface. For all his wick. eddeaa which they hid <*:Weseed, ending ia causing the death of the fairy, he shahid be imprisoned in the tree, (o remain there aa long as the tree lived and grow. He stretched ouf his hand toward VVylee, and the next in. slant neither the boy nor the form were to be seen. The tree was spurred a's though light, ning had struck' it, but nothing more waa seen or heard. They returned ond'iold Wy lee’s. pother, and prepared for a departure to another encampment. Wylee’s mother stole to the hill at daybreak, and she saw the tree was strangely' twisted. They went away -that day, and did not return till the war was finished and they were Victorioss. When they came back the tree had grown more awry, and they knew Wylee’s spirit was there, and that it had grown no bellet*. Thd fairies came to the hill no more, but some times met the children in Ihe valley, and danced by the brook to the music of the gur gling water. 'Not till Jong after the last of his tribe was dead, die,the old oak cease to put forth its leaves in the spring time, but it died when the white man came, and Wylee’a spirit rejoined his Iribt? In the fadeless Hunt, ing Ground. M 5 M' v'i ; 1 >T. > “Yes, I’m coming,” rang out from the sil. ver voice of a child, through the half opened door of a house on our sir eel, as we were passing the alher day.. , We saw no one, but (he sweet musical (ones still lingered in our ears as we passed on, and we thought to our. selves, yes, my child, you are “coming." Coming from the guileless sunny flower gar? den of childhood's-'glory, and beauty, and joy, into a world of' (horns, and sio, and suf fering—from the sweet harmony of infantile melody and gladness, into a world of sharp discords,and human deformity—coming from ihe warm lips and kindly embraces, and gen tle words of a mother’s love, into air made poisonous by the breath of the slanderer’s lungs—a world full of rude jostlings—where the traveler need be firm in nerve, and strong in smew, or he is pushed aside, or trampled under foot—a world full of cursing and bit terness, (hat almost turns to gall the few cups of Eden’s nectar still kept pure from the ef fects of the fall. Coming from the sweet peace of your loved heaven of home, into a “strange land,” where there are backbitings, and envyings, and falsehoods—men striving to overreach his neighbor—yes, neighbor* whom he daily greets with a smile and pro fession of friendship'—all hurrying, running, snatching after Yellow gold ; (crazed with us serpent charm—forgetting the very ties of nature, and lacking up forever all its kindly sympathies. Coming, alasl to be as avari cious, and vain and cold hearted as the rest of mankind; and coming, too, into the same narrow home to which we all hasten. Ah ! sweet child, may your “coming” bo such, that when thy hour is coma, aod'tbo angels'beckon you away, you'may look up with joy, and exclaim again : “Yes, I’m com* mg." Good. —Some years ago, an old sign pamier, wno was very cross, very gruff and a little deaf, was engaged lo paint the ten commandments on some lablets m a church not five miles from Buffalo. He-worked hard two days at it, and at the close of the second day the pastor of the church came in to seo how ihe work progressed. The old man stood by smoking a short pipe, as, the rever end gentleman ran his eye pver the lablets. “Eh !” said the pastor, as he detected something wrdng in the wording of the holy precepts, “why, you careless old person, you’ve left a part of one of the command ments entirely out—don’t you see 1” “No —no such thing,” said the old man ; pulling on his spcclalcs ; “ no, nothing leA out. Where I” “ Why there,” persisted the pastor; “here ; look at them m the Bible—fyon have left some of the commandmenis out.” “ Well, what if I have,” said old obstina cy, as he ran his eyes complacently over his work—“ what if 1 have ! There’s a great sight rnpre there now than you'll keep ! ” Genius and Laboii. —lt would be an ex tremely profitable thing to draw up a short and well-authenticated account of the habits of study of the most celebrated writers wi'h whose style of literary industry we happen to be most acquainted. It would go vary far to destroy the abdurd'nnd pernicious'associa tion of genius and idleness, by showing them that ihe'greaiostpoetd orators,statesmenand historians—meti of the most brilliant and imposing talents—haveVactually labored as hard as the makers of dictionaries and the arrangers of indices ; anti- that the most ob vious reason why they have been superior to other men is that they have taken morepnips than other men. Gibbon was in his study every, morning,' winter and summer, at six’ o’ clock. Mr- Burke was the most laborious and indefatigable of human beings; Leibnitz was never out of his library ; Pascal killed himself by study ; Cicero narrowly escaped death by the stjrae cause’; Milton was at his books With as touch regularity as a merchant or an anorhe'y—he had • mastered all the knowledge of his limp; so hud Homer. An Englishman of recent importation ac cidentally dropped into-a restaurant in this city a few days since, and made a .hearty tnppl, topping off with a piece of pie. Tha laUfer^upon 1 tasting, he found to'beebld, and, calling the Ethiopian waiter,whoilood near, 'he said to him:—“Take this- pra lo thefire and ’eat it.” His consternation was’great .when Sambo walked lo ibe lire,and,,quietly devoured Iho-pte. .. _ , Wayside Thoughts.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers