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I SHALL BE SATISFIED.
Not here! not here! not where the sparkling waters
Fade into mocking sands as we draw near
Where in the wilderness each footstep falters- 1 -!
I shall be satisfied—O, no! not here!
Not here—where all the dreams of bliss deceive ns,
W/iere the worn spirit never gains its goal;
Where, haunted ever by the thoughts that grieve us,
Across us, floods of bitter memories rul'.
There is a land where every pnise is thrilling
With rapture earth’s sojourners may not knows
Where Heaven’s repose the weary heart is stilling,
And peacefully life’s time-tost currents flow.
Faroutof sight, while yetthe flash infolds us.
Lies the far country where our hearts abide,
And of its bliss is nought more wondrous told us,
Than these few words—” I shall be satisfied.”
Satisfied ? Satisfied ? the spirit’s yearning
Far sweet companionship with kindred minds,
The silent love that here meets no returning—
The inspiration which no language finds.
Shall they be satisfied ? The soul's vague longing—
The aching void which nothing earthly fills?
0, what desires upon my soul are thronging
As I look upward to the heavenly hills!
Thither my weak and weary steps are tending—
Savior and Lord 1 with thy frail child abide !
Guide me toward home, my wanderings
ended.
1 shall see thee and shall he satisfied.
©ommmucatcono.
Leaves by the Wayside.
BY AGNES
(concluded.)
“Ah, young ladies, always at the foot of
this gigantic tree I I am gelling decidedly
jealous of these secluded, lover-like visits !
Will you allow your humble friend to disturb
your tranquility for a few moments, while he
reposes upon this grassy bank, which reminds
one of Shakspeare’s moonlights.
“How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank,
litre will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep iu our ears! Soft stillness and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit Jessica! Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with pattens of bright gold.”
“!i would give us exquisite pleasure Capf.
Briddlefoot to see you so comfortably situa
ted,” I said, interrupting him in his quotation,
“but we fear instead of gazing at the “floor
of heaven,” your attention will be turned to
the insect tribe;” for that beautiful bank up.
on which you recline, is a bed of ants, who
will be too happy to pay their respects to
you, and’’ the sentence remained unfin
ished, for the Captain had sprung upon the
bridge, and Sallie, catching me by the arm,
cried “a snake/”
“Did you really see a snake Sallie !” 1
asked, as we hailed from sheer exhaustion.
“Yes, indeed, I did I but he walked upright ,
as he did in Eden, where he ternp'ed our first
parents to sin I” and she laid her head upon
my shoulder, and laughed one of her dear
musical laughs.
We were soon back again beneath the old
oak. W e talked until the moon came softly
and lovingly upon us ; for on the morrow we
were in part. When we arrived home, we
found Mrs. Charles playing upon the piano
to a room full of people. Many were listen
ing, as I have seen persons listen after having
solicited some person to play. As the music
fills the room, one voice exclaims, “I wish
our minister was more spiritual!” “Ha !
ha! ha !” laughs another. “There ! I’ve
broken my needle !” exclaims n third—and
when the music ceases and the performer
turns to teav._ the piano, with mortified feel
ings, they all exclaim, “charming. l splendid!”
“Do play again!”
The morrow came. I. kissed the lips of
good Mrs. Charles, and touched the cheek of
Miss Adeline Roseyouster, and wished Capt.
Bnddlefool, who had seated himself in the
eiage coach, after the most approved style of
heroes in the days of Alonzo and Melissa, a
prosperous journey. Then came Henry Wa|.
ton and Sullie. As I stood speechless before
them I felt the meaning of that word, “fare
well. A tempest of sorrow swept over my
soul! but at last 1 said “Good-bye,” after the
fashion of the world, whose cloak of “pro
priety, covers almost every emotion of the
bean, so that God and his holy angels but
know our innermost natures.
For many days after they were gone, Aunt
iteiurm seemed miserable. She would say,
1 wish w e lived in the city, Nell! It is so
°md dull here! there is no one to speak to!”
„„ j I" 1 ’ Aunty, here is myself, and your
go husband. What other society do you
is or if you have the latter? leaving out
>our humble servanl, Nell ?”
" !l d ° es very well for you to talk, Nell,
ose ideas of matrimony are like ttye poet’s
. ea K mo ' '^ e > where everything wears a rose
“Ti, U6 ’ UDld y° u come to the reality.”—
wh 6 r ? seale hues °f life, or matrimony, are
ere 'he affections glow the warmest said
a?o '=ea(our side.
*‘" M Keturia turned toward my uncle,
You know, Davy, you
stay "T a ' l * ce : y° u would' always
I home, and play turtle-dove; while
hpiiJ 10 P er l“ rm m y duty to society, by
able, like other folks. *
ni»ht°T Keuria > 00 caudle lectures to
-1 will’ j '° * low love, y ' l ' 3 out °f dolors I
jgyg ? raw hack the curtains, so that the
sad k • moon ’ will illumine our room,
even e ' tnine ’ we will he- young again
we '"''he days of our courtship ; and
will 'lf k °*" “ au id lang syne.” Then I
Harold tu y ° U the third ca ° 10 Childe
then i n ' j n we w '*l say our prayers—
I'Cik ° U . r , ams —will that do,Keturia?
fk ’ caar . ni ' n §!’’ she replied,
in 6 i,l° urt „ ains were raised, and then poured
teemed !, jj od ,° r Bllver that the soul
h°me n,„ ° en ? lrans ported to some purer
the wall,” earl , The very pictures upon
winggj eeomed illumined, and the angel
-10 have itl SSBn "j fS ,n s ? me ° r them.seemed
stars, sndlT 3 10 lhe ,' r homes be y°nd the
■ suddenly spread out before them.
THE AGITATOR,
ZleboteQr to tfyt ZSxttmlan of the of iFmirom ana the Spimb of ©raltbg j&eforml
■WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WBONO UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN 7 ’ SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE,
YOL. IY.
Uncle David talked of all that he had prom
ised to Aunt Keturia; but she manifested
about as much interest in what he said, as
the piece of statuary that stood by her side.
I looked at them both j no fault could be
found.with the tout ensemble of either, but a
frigid and distant air surrounded both.
The lamp was lighted, Childei Harold pro
duced, and as my uncle’s rich tones bore the
burden of that grand poem through the quiet
room, I distinctly heard aunt drumming an
opera air with her fingers. Soon her head
drooped, lower and lower, and I knew she
had gone to Dream Land. My uncle looked
up, and with clouded brow he hastily arose
and walked to the window.
“You will not go out to-night?” said he
to my aunt, inquiringly.
“Of all nights, yes !” she pettishly re
turned. “ Would you have me lose the
pleasure of E ’s party, and all the elite
to be there ?’’ j
“ But lam really ill. Your husband, the
slightest wish of whom was once sufficient
to induce you to abandon any pleasure, asks
you to stay.”
“ You are always getting sick when I am
anticipating some great treat,” said she care
lessly ; “ retire early and 1 will return in
two hours and doubly repay you for any lit
tle sacrifice -you may make for me. Nell
will sit by you, won’t you, Nell?” And she
swept gracefully from the room.
At last she returned, attired in a robe of
white satin trimmed with costly lace. Her
raven hair fell in glossy ringlets to her shoul
ders. Her arras and neck were bare. A
single ornament —a coiled serpent, in whose
head gleamed a diamond of great price—
upon her bosom.
“ Why will you wear that strange bauble,
Keturia 1” asked my uncle, with a percepti
ble shudder.
She kissed her hand gaily and with a light
ly spoken.au renoir, was gone.
His eye grew very dark my aunt left,
and he gazed wearily at the .pictures upon
the walls. At last, groaning under the thirst
of fever, be said—
“ I am very sick, Nell.
“ Shall I send for aunt 7”
“'She is more the world’s than mine,” he
said.lhalf “ She married me for my
money, and while she can shine pre-eminent
in society she will be happy. Yet, I would
not seem to speak harshly of my wife. She
is not so much to be blamed. False training
has closed the avenues to her soul to enjoy
ments of a higher nature. When we mar
ried she seemed genial and affectionate as
well as domestic in her nature; but I fear
she did only as 100 many giddy girls do in
adapting themselves to the temper and tastes
of their lovers that they may secure hus
bands. Alas! Nell,'they do not consider
that they drive their bwn happiness aw reck
in so doing. Your aunt is not happy with
me—how can she be while we walk two
ways in life! Not until the millennial day
will two unlike souls harmonize in the walk
of life.”
Toward morning, as I leaned my face
against the window peering into the thick
outside gloom, oppressed by the hush of the
sick room, I heard a gay laugh and a lightly
spoken ‘good night.’ The hall door opened
and a light tripping of feet on the stairs told
me that my aunt had returned. I saw her
approach the bedside of my uncle and as his
flushed cheeks and fever-maddened gaze met
her eye, she shrank back and sank fainting
on the floor.
Three weeks of bitter sorrowing passed
and again I stood by my mother’s grave and
saw her loved brother laid beside her. My
aunt wept bitterly, and I shall never forget
how she said to me that night: ,
“He was such a good man, Nell —I shall
never find'such a friend again !”
And, dear coz, I fear she never will. You
remember (he gay, dashing widow at A ,
Springs? You heard of her! Well, had
you seen her you would have recognized the
original of the portrait by the side of Uncle
David’s.
“ What became of Henry Walton ?” Let
me see—it is an hour ere the train will be
here. In an hour, then, cousin mine, I will
introduce you to Henry DeVere—my hus
band. .
Foggy vapors upward tending,
Sam continually descending,
Mod, and shine, and water blending
Ail together;
Wind around the corner tearing,
Everything before it bearing,
People slipping, grumbling, swearing,
«Blame the weather.”
Well IVfr. Editor, “they say” if is Spring.
Perhaps it is in some places, but we are
having a sorry lime of it here. Rain and
mud, then mud and rain, and ihen rain, wind,
bail, and mud all at once. Do you remem
ber how we used to read of lovely Spring,
of wild flowers. May Queens, and dancing
around the May-pole. We believed what we
read 100, before time taught ua better. At
least I did. And once when my home was
in New Hampshire, we little folks thought it
would be a fine idea, to have a May day
celebration, like “those we read of.’’ So
after a deal of teasing, we obtained the con
sent of our parents, who probably thought
experience would be a good teacher; We
went to a grove near the village, chose the
prettiest girl in the company for our queen
of May, and with shivering forms, blue faces,
and with chattering teeth, proceeded tocrown
her. But alas I our crown had to Mplnade
of evergreens, as the lovely spring flowers
were not forthcoming. Pretty little Marcia
mug have felt, if she did not say, “Uneasy
is the head that wears a crown.”- The rest
of us in our warm bonnets nearly froze, and
her evergreen wreath must have been more
cool than comfortable. Long before sunset
WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. JUNE 10, 1858.
we were glad to return to our warm firesides.
You Mr. Editor, who likewise hail from
Yankee Land, can appreciate the beauties of
that Maying.
I dont think however, that the Pennsylva
nians need boast much of their early springs.
In New England, one knows what to expect;
while here, “the oldest inhabitant” is forever
saying, “what weather I it never used to be
so.” But lam getting more and more of
the opinion, (hat it has always been just about
“so,” and that Tioga Co. has very often been
blest with just such spring weather. It is
bad enough, and disagreeable enough no
doubt for your village people. It is not very
pleasant, to see nothing but cloudy skies, and
muddy streets, and to hear from wet and shiv,
ering pedestrians, .rather doubtful blessings
called down upon “this weather.”
But think of the farmers. They may as
well plant the creek, as their fields, where
little pools of water stand on the surface,
with the rain dropping, dropping continually
and dimpling the tiny lakes. The land when
worked is like a mortar bed, and if any one
works much in this weather, he and his
horses will have a fair specimen of “inland
navigation.” Grass grows finely, and if
nothing else will, we may have to follow the
example of Nebuchadnezzar of old. Weill
you know Mr. Editor, that there is a law of
compensation. We are receiving daily proof
of the truth of a widely accepted doctrine,
that the earth shall not again be destroyed
by water; and if the opinion of some is true,
that this; world stands in constant danger of
spontaneous combustion, from its own inter
nal fires, are we not safer than some more
favored people? Can any land combust
spontaneously, which is so completely water
soaked ns is our own Tioga?
May 26th. , Virginia.
Gen. Jackson a Gentleman.
Instead of being a rude and unpolished
man as many erroneously supposed, Gen.
Jackson was considered by all who knew
him intimately as the very pefection of a
gentleman. His manners were courteous in
the extreme, and, to illustrate this fact, Mr.
Buchanan related a striking incident. He
said, on one occasion he received a letter
from an American lady, who had a daughter
married to an individual of high rank among
the English nobility. In her note to Mr.
Buchanan she informed him she bore a mes
sage to the President of the United Slates
from William IV., and she desired him to
accompany her to the White House in order
that she might deliver it in person. Mr. B.
obeyed her request, and they went to the
President’s mansion. He excused himself
for a few moments, and went to the private
room of the President, where he found him
in the most wretched dishabille. He was
clafl in an old gray surloutcoal, a dirty shirt,
his beard long, and to crown all was smoking
an old blackened pipe. Mr. B. acquainted
him with the fact that Mrs. was in
another part of the mansion, with a message
to him from the King of England.
He was fearful the old General might walk
down to receive his visitor in that sorry
plight, and therefore suggested to him wheth
er he had not belter arrange his dress and
shave. General Jackson made the following
reply; “Buchanan, I once knew a roan who
made a fortune by minding his own business
—go down stairs and say to Mrs. 1
shall be happy to wait on her presently.”
He left the apartment and in a very short
time the old gentleman gracefully entered
the room, dressed in a rich suit of black
cloth, clean, shaved, with his fine head of
white hair carefully brushed, and received
(he lady with'the greatest ease and polish of
manners. She bore to him the kind saluta
tions of the King, with the request that after
the expiration of his term he would visit
England, On their return from the White
House, the lady expressed her gratification
and the pleasure she had derived from the
interview, and said she had visited every
principal court in Europe, and mingled with
those of the highest rank, but that Gen. Jack
son, in all the attributes of gentlemanly
courtesy and highly refined manners, ex
celled every other man she ever met, — Ar
thur's Magazine.
No temporizing with a wrong can stand.
It roots itself the deeper in corrupt humanity,
and demands more room. Collision con
stantly ensues at every point of its widening
circumference. Wrong, grown haughtily by
indulgence, more imperiously demands con
cession ; and conscience weakened by com
promise, yields more craventy than ever.—
Rev. Dudley A. Tyng.
For the Agitator.
Religion is not a perpetual moping over
good books. Religion is not even prayer,
praise, holy ordinances —these are necessary
to religion—no man can be religious without
them. But religion is mainly and chiefly the
glorifying of God amid the duties and trials
of {the world ; the guiding our course amid
the adverse winds and currents of temtalions
by the starlight of duty and the compass of
divine truth) the bearing ns manfully, wisely,
courageously through for the honor of Christ,
our great Leader, in the conflict of life.—
Caird.
Goon and Bad Signs. —lt is a good sign to
see a man doing an act of charity to his fel
lows.—lt is a bad sign to hear him boasting
of is a good sign to see the color of
health in a man’s face. It is a bad sign to
see it all concentrated in, the nose.—lt is
a good sign to see an honest man wearing
old clothes.—lt is a bad sign to see (hem
Ailing holes in (he windows.—lt is ft good
sign to sea a woman dressed with taste and
neatness.
THE SUN OF MA F,
The son of May was bright in middle heaven,
And steeped the sprouting forests, the green bills
And emerald wheat-fields in the yellow light.
Upon the apple-tree, where rosy bods
Stood clustered, ready to burst in bloom.
The robin warbled forth his full, clear note
For hours, and wearied not. Within the woods,
Whose young and half transparent leaves scarce cast
A shade, gay circles of anemones
Danced on their stalks; the shad-bush, white with
flowers
Brightened the glens : the new-leaved butternut
And quivering poplar, to the roving breeze
Gave a balsamic fragrance. In the fields
1 saw the pulses of the gentle wind
On the young grass. My heart was touched with joy
At so much beamy, flushing every hour
Into a fuller beauty. Brtakt.
Mysteries of Howe’s Cave,
Doubtless we have all had, at times, the
desire awakened in our hearts to see the
mysteries of the “Mammoth Cave tolisten
to the dull sound of the falling stone, dropped
into the “Bottomless Pit,” as it goes bound
ing and leaping on Us way towards that vast
sea of molten lava, which geologist tells us
of and which must be more easy to imagine
than to describe, or to,engage the services of
Charon, and explore the unknown wonders
of the cold, black “St'yx,” or listen to the
tales of ancient “Indian towns” in the inte
rior of the cavern’s maw, and wonder how
the race lived, and when they died. Indulg
ing such reveries, many have sighed that
distance and expense render a visit to this
cave to them impossible, nor seem aware
that near at hand a cave of almost fabulous
proportions and features is found ; and even
a slight and imperfect sketch of it may prove
acceptable to our readers.
“Howe’s Cave” is situated in the (own of
Cobleskill, Schoharie county, in the State of
Now York, and deserves the celebrity so
generally awarded to it of being the greatest
natural curiosity in the United Stales; and
many who have visited the cave of Kentucky,
prefer to linger here.
The town is easy of access either from
Cherry Valley or Canajoharie. Having
safely landed, (for not being able to describe
nature’s laboratory as it is, must need give
our own experience, we booked our names
at the “Cave House,” and having donned a
suit of clothes that seemed to have suffered
in a desperate struggle for existence with the
old-clothes man,) we descended a few stone
steps, and entered with a shudder (perhaps
occasioned by the cjold blast that saluted us)
this wondrous boudhir of Dame Nature.
In “Entrance Hall” we found ourselves,
and, after lighting our torches, discovered it
to be a rocky passage, two hundred and sixty
feel in length, by thirty-five in width. Being
satisfied with our view of stone and smell of
dampness,'we entered “Washington Hall,”
which is one hundred feet long and thirty
wide; here is a beautiful stalactite, resem
bling the Father of his Country,l>r what is
really imagined to be his statue. His mantle
is falling in graceful folds from about his
commanding person, while his epauleltt, re
moved from his shoulders, are hanging on
the wall beside him. On the opposite side of
the wall hangs “Lady Washington’s hood,”
every fold in the ample cape distinctly visi
ble. Near by, at an elevation of twenty
five feet, is an altar, kneeling at which many
have taken the most holy ties, that bind fur
life. The ceremony solemnized ‘in such a
place, the walls blazing with the red glare,of
torches the solemn voice of the officiating
minister, must stamp the memories of the
assembled guests and produce impressions
lasting as the granite walls that echoed their
responses. A little removed is a small statue
of a woman, sitting in a chair—also a
withered hand, with beautiful stalactite germ
inations. “Hermit’s Cell” is the next object
of curiosity, but deserves no particular men
tion save that all above us, attached to the
walls, are images of birds, beasts, trees, and
fishes, until one is almost ready to believe
that he stands in nature’s storehouse of pat
terns, and these are carved out, of black and
white marble, in the matchless style of the
Creator’s hand alone. Passing through the
“Tunnel” we entei “Cataract, ’’ which is five
hundred and forty feet high and thirty five
wide, through the midst of which a stream
ripples and murmur a in its darksome way,
toward a cataract never yet seenlby man.
But applying our ear to a fissure in the
wall the distant roar of waters was distinctly
heard, its height or depth unknown. The
very mystery attending it renders additional
interest to the hidden waterfall. At the
“Lake,” a large body of water reposing in
a huge alone reservoir, we stepped into a
large boat, and as the torches’ lurid glare
falls on the dark walls, the eye is bewildered
by the multitude and beauty of the groups of
figures on which the light is thrown. Cor
nices, statues, men birds beasts, and fishes,
are seen on every side, and excite the won
der and adnjiralion of all who like us, expe
rience the pleasure of a visit to these en
chanted halls. In “Music Hall,” near by,
is a huge formation, called the “Harp,”
weighing nearly a ton, which, on being
struck, sends echoes through the cavern in
tones of finest melody and sounds of deepest
pathos and most witching tenderness. The
musical education of the water sprites, or
genii of this cavern, has not been neglected,
and if they could pot go to the mountain,
the high and towering peaks of the “Alps”
have come to them, and from their summits
we look far down into a dark chasm
called the “Pirate’s Cave.” Leaving “Mount
Blanc” behind us we toiled up the “Rocky
clambering over huge rocks and
scrambling through chasms, until we gained
a height of five hundred feet, wlicn we be
gan our descent of Jehosa
phat,” passing the “Winding Way,” a nar
row passage hewn out of the solid rock, or,
perhaps, channeled by a narrow stream, and
just wide enough to admit one [person at a
time, so crooked .that we could see scarcely
three feel in advance, while the walls are
ornamented with most beautiful specimen/of
carving. We came to the “Devil's Gang
way,” which leads to the “Rotunda,” a room
six hundred feet in height. This altitude was
ascertained by the Bight of rockets. Being
satisfied with having penetrated, four miles
and a half, we commenced our return ; and
when once again the sun’s bright rays fell on
us our joy seemed 100 great for utterance.
Those granite domes and rock-ribbed halls
showed superhuman skill of the great atchi
tecl’s own inspiring. Those sculptured and
wondrous forms of stone seemed angels'
work and not the work of change-|~lhe water
drippings of ten thousand years. | The Lake
and Winding Way excite our interest; the
Hidden Waterfall and mystic I Harp stir
feelings in' our breast that give us pain, and
yet such pain is delicious] But ii is the sun
shine the bright, glorious sunshine ihe
fields, the grass; the trees, ihatj give such
ecstatic joy, that only those who live with
them around can ever know.—i-Neia York
Dispatch. \
Melancholy. |
This disease, or symptom of a idisease, has
long been supposed to be of the 'mind, more
particularly than the body, and has Been
treated accordingly, if treated at| all. That
its effect is produced upon the mihd is not to
be denied, though we do deny i that it ever
remains so for a length of lime, except it be
sustained and fostered by a diseased state"of
the body. Melancholy is often produced by
mental emotions, losses of various kinds, be
reavements, &c., and if no diseased stale of
the body be brought on, they pass off, as the
remembrance of the circumstances which
produced them becomes less v(vid by the
lapse of lime. Bui ofltimes this is not the
case, and there is a diseased stale of the body
induced by the mental affliction ; and this
diseased stale reacting on the mirid, keeps up
a constant source of depression iof the feel
ings. This, however, is but one source of
melancholy ; a second, is where the effect is
produced on the mind, merely from disar
raugements of the functions of the body, and
cannot be traced to any mental emotion.
The origin of the word is to be found
among the ancient Romans, and yras coined,
so to speak, by some of their physicians. It
is, however, made up of two Greek words,
though we have never seen the wprd used by
any Grecian author. Pliny the elder, a Ro
man writer, having been the first to have
made use of it. It is compounded of the two
words, melas, signifying black, and chela,
signifying bile. Roman physicians thinking
it depended upon a redundancy of iblack bile.
This opinion is wrong, and the etymology of
of the’ word is founded in error, lit is not to
a superfluity of bile, but by a diminution of
secretion of the kidneys and olhier organs,
that the disease is produced. Notjonly then,
to a disorder of the functions of the liver,
but the bowels, and other glands, that its
cause must be looked for. It is chiefly to
be found in dyspeptics, and persons of a
torpid sensibility ; but of all thei conditions
of the body, costiveness is the Jworst, and
most likely to produce a depression of the
feelings, and melancholy state of the mind.
We have noticed in convalescing cases of
cholera, that the kidneys were ‘slothful in
their action for several days after the .purging
had been arrested, that the patients exhibit a
very melancholy stale of mind, and were for
a ijong lime unable to explain it) A close
observation during the last cholera’convinced
us that it was owing to the urea.’ilhe salt of
the urine, which was left circulating in the
blood, from the deficiency of the urine sq
creted. i ' '
The kidneys then should be attended, and
the pancreas as well as the liver, jand above
all the bowels be regulated, if we would pro
duce a cure of melancholy.— Wrightsville
Star. j
Anecdote op Dr. John Brown. —When
John Brown, D. Dr firesettled at Haddington,
Scotland, the people of his parish gave him
a warm and enthusiastic reception;; only one
of the members of that large church and con
gregation stood out in opposi'ionhto him.—
The Rev. Doctor tried all ihe (neans in his
power to convert the solitary dissenter to
unity of feeling which pervaded the whole
body, but all his attempts to an imer
view proved abortive. As Providence direct
ed, however, they happened one day to meet
in the street, when the Doctor out his
hand, saying, “My brother, I understand you
are opposed to my settling at Haddington.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the parishioner.
“Well, and if it be a fair question, on what
grounds do you object to me ?” r
“Because sir,” quoth he, “I don’t think
you are qualified to fill so eminenlj a post."
“That is just my opinion,” replied the Doc
tor ; “but what, sir, is the use oj you and
me selling up our opinions in opposition 'Ujra
whole parish ?” ;
The brother smiled, and their [friendship
was sealed for ever. How veryj true and
forcible God’s word, “A soft answer turns
away wrath.” I
A Virginia paper records the mlarriage of
Miss Jane Lemon and Mr. Ebeneier Sweet;
whereupon our devil moralizes as follows ;
How happily extremes do meet
In Jane and Ebenezer; (
She’s oo longer sour, but Sweet,
And he’s a Lemon squeezer!
There is only one objection to people who
“mean well” and that is they nevof.can spare
time to carry out their meaning, i
Advertisements will be charged SI per square o
fourteen lines, for one, or three insertions, and 25
cents lor cvcrysnbsequcnl insertion. Al! advertist-.
menls'or less than fourteen lines considered as a
square. The following rates will bo charged for
Quarterly, Half Yearly and Yearly advertising:—
• Square, (Hlines,) - $2 50 $4 50 $6 00
SSquares,. . - - 400 600 8 Oft
J column, \: ... 1000 1500 2000
column, 18 00 30 00 40 00
All advertisements not having the number of In
sertions marked npon them, will be kept in until or.
dered out, and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbills, Bill,and Letter Heads,and all
kinds of. Jobbing done In country
executed neatly and promptly. Justices 9 , Consta
bles* and other BLANKS, constantly on hand and
printed to order.
NO. XLY.
A well-looking girl, named Mary W., re
cemly formed the acquaintance of the servant
of a family residing in West Nila street, and
latterly she became known to the mistress of
the house, who formed a favorable opinion of
her. On Monday last the girl came to the
housd, apparently in much affliction, stating
that her only brother bad died on the prece
ding Saturday, and that her mother had de
parted this life on that very day. Amidst
her sobs sbe-begged, as a favor, that Mrs. S.
would lenS-her a black dress and bonnel'Tor
the funeral, qn'Wednesday following, untit
her own mourning could be got ready. This
was readily promised, and on the day ap
pointed the girl was dressed respectably, if
not handsomely, in clothes belonging to the
lady with which she attended the funeral as
was understood, and returned with the gar
ments’ in the afternoon, when she obtained a
promise that she should again have them on
the following day, when she was to dispose of
her mother’s effects, to whom she was sole
heiress. About eight o’clock the same even
ing the bell in the West Nile street bouse was
rung, and Ihe servant went to the door. She
was heard to open it, and in a moment or uto
afterwards scream out, “Mary’s mother!’ *
and then fall on the floorof the passage “with
a clash.” A female inmate then proceeded
to the door to see what had happened, bur
she the example of the servant by
also screaming in dire alarm, and then tum
bling over in a fainting condition. The mis.
tress then went forward, and walking over the
bodies of ihe poslrate maidens found a pale
faced, decent-looking woman standing in the
passage, respectably dressed, with a u hile cap
on her head, and a good size haddock in her
hand. She spoke not a word, but gazed
intently on the two girls who had been
frightened into oblivion by her very appear
ance. “Are you Mary's mother?” said Mrs.
S. “I am,” said the pale-faced woman.
“Were you not buried to-day 7” “Not to my
knowledge,” rejoined the other. “Then come
in.” The matron was accordingly brought
into the parlor., and an explanation made to
her regarding the reason why she should have
been accounted dead and buried on her own
daughter’s authority. On her part she slated
that she had herself been within an inch of
fainting when she noticed others go over with
a yell, without any preceplible cause. She
had noticed her daughter that very day
dressed in a suit of mourning, and she had
made free while out purchasing a haddock, at
any rale to call for the servant al West Nile
street, to ask if she knew, where the dress
came from. No sooner were these expla
nations made than the girl Mary was called,
still in a very doleful mood. She was al
once brought into the room and confronted
with her mother, when she yelled in real
alarm at the exposure, and bolted to the
kitchen. Eventually both were sent off to
gether, and the house settled into its ordinary
wont, after having been for a lime in great
confusion. It is believed that the girl had
fabricated the story of faor mother’s death and
funeral to obtain a suit of good clothes, in
which to show off before her sweetheart or
acquaintances; and al last she might have
walked off with them altogether. At any
rate, the West Nile street ghost has given
rise to a good deal of merriment in the neigh
borhood.—Glasgow Herald.
Losing All—A Family Scene.—There
is something exceedingly lender, as well aa
instructive, in the following, which we
from the Child’s Paper:
"A few years ago, a merchant failed in
business. He went home one evening.—
“VVbat is the matter V’ asked bis wife. “I
am beggared—l have lost my all! ha ex
claimed, pressing his hand upon his.forehead
as if his brain was in a whirl.
“All!” said his wife. “I am left.” “AH
papa,” said his'eldest boy; “here am 1.”
“And I too, papa,” said his little girl, run
ning up and putting her arms around his
neck. “I’s not lost,” papa, repeated Eddie.
“And you have your health left, said his
wife.” “And your two hands to work with,
papa,” said his eldest ; “and 1 can help you.”
“And your two feet to carry you about.”
“And your two eyes to see with,papa,” said
little Eddie.
“You have God’s promises said the
Grandmolher. “And a good God, said his
wife.” “And heaven to go to,” said the
little girl. “And Jesus who came to fetch u?
there,” said his eldest.
“God forgive me,” said the poor merchant,
bursting into tears. “I have not lost alt.
What are the few thousands which I called
my all, to these precious things which God
has left me ?” and he clasped his family to his
bosom and kissed his wife and children with
a thankful heart.
Ah no, there are many things more pre
cious than gold and bank slocks, valuable as
these may be in their place. WhenlheCcn
tral America was foundering at sea, bags and
purses of gold were strewn about the deck
ns worthless as the mere rubbish. “Life,
life !” was the prayer. To some of Ihe
wretched survivors, “Water, water,” was
the prayer. “Bread, bread !” it was worth
its weight in gold if gold could have bought it.
The habit of using ardent spirits by men
in ppblic office, has occasioned more injury
to the publitTservice, and more trouble to me,
than anv other circumstance which has oc
cured in the internal concerns of the country
during my administration ; and were I to com.
mence my administration, with the knowledge'
I have acquired from experience, the first,
question j would ask in regard to every can
didate for public office, would bo, is he ad
dicted to the use of ardent spirits?— Thontaa
Jefferson. .
Kates of AdrcrUsjns,
3 months. 6 months. 12 mo’s
A Scotch Ghost Story.