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BuaseW t" ’
ALICE MAY.
a cently murmuring river
' Where the moonbeams brightly play,
r Ired a fair and lovely maiden
I her name mis Alice May.
There she wandered by tbe river,
1 Where the air was eiroot with flowen—
tr-ndcred when the day was closing
’ j„ ifac-pleasant twilight boars;
Vbero she wandered sad and lone,
wishing, ever longing
Tor one heart to call her own.
1 And one day, when all the shadows
Bute had, and longer grown.
Came this one to gentle Alice—
Cant 10 be hers all alone.
TfeH she loved this youths© noble.
And together, now they strayed,
Strayed beside the rippling river
tfberc th® moon-beams sweetly played.
- s. -2 * V * * ' «
But one morning when tbe dew-drops
In the flowers still were sleeping,
By the murmuring, purling river
uandered Alice sadly weeping,
for the noble youth was lying— <
Dreamt, sleeping on the bed,
And 100 well did gentle Alice
Know that she was cold and dead#
o,ie short moment she is standing
Where the flowers are blooming ever,
jben she plunged Into ihe 4 waters.
And her were closed foreVcr.
Bet. the peasants sometimes say,
-At the closing of tbe day, •
Wanders there the youthful lover
And the gentle Alice May."
Mansfield, Pa- E. Sophia;
The Creased Pole.
gojrjsc non" zeke philpot got sucked in, and
TEEN AGAIN HOW HE DIDN’T.
Izekiel Philpot was born in America,
.-Kvhere near the headwaters of the Penob-
w d when he arrived at the age of nine
-c he had got his growth and “cut his eye
rX’ a circumstance which was generally ad-
- atii by all who knew him. One bright mor
ij,; in June, Zeke placed his long body in a
chin shirt, run his long legs through a pair of
cfcd trowsers, wrapped a span new waist
«> about his breast, hauled up 1 bis stiff cot
is dickey, and tied a checked gingham about
Li sect, and then donned his swallow-tailed
cat, the brass buttons of which looked like a
mof newly risen stars. Zeke was literally a
peer is the “Bloomer costume,” at least one
raid bare thought so to see him ns he now
r.»l. He disdained to have the trowsers legs
tingling in the mud, or to have the cuffs of bis
tat slopping in the washbowl; so his blue
iciings peeped forth from beneath the tops
ins cowhides that looked up full sis inches
the trowsers bottoms, while his bony wrists
.1 free scope from either shirt-sleeve or cuff.
' hair was no color in particular, but bore
ill the lighter shades of the vegetable kingdom,
ns down fiat with pure boar’s ile, and directly
to the top of his head ho put a white hat,
cmewhat resembling an inverted butter-firkin,
ir.4 alter paiing at his presentment in the
looking glass fur fuur and a half minutes, was
heard to say:
‘‘Thar, Mr, Zeke Philpot, if you don’t slide
in dial, then I guess what ain’t what, that’s
Zcke was bound to Costing with a load of
ermine apple sass, and he expected ere he re
oracd, to make a light commotion, if not more,
:: lie great metropolis. The old mare was
tirccsced, and in due course of time* Zeke and
U load arrived in Costing, where the “sass”
disposed of at good advantage and with
t i ia his pocket, onr hero began to look around
Usee the sights.
' Hel lo 1" exclaimed Zeke, as he stopped one
: -i.' before a blazing placard which adorned
t: of the back walls in Flag alley; “what’n
t-T.iu-m’s that! A Golden Ladder—a road
Fcrm-n-e —oh, fortin’ tliat's it—a road to
!r..n.-
dehewenton to decipher the reading beneath,
ho gained the intelligence that
"Kick Bay there waste he a pole twenty
■=*t high, on the top of which the proprietor
v place al prize of $2OO, to be owned by
*7 one vrh.o could obtain it. Chances S 3.
"h ell, tew hundred dollars is some punkins,”
t- icquiscd Zeke. “I’ve dumb pooty skinny
1 -' t ys mmy day. I’ll just wade into that fel
** two hundred, rot me ef I "don’t.”
nith this feeling of cupidity, Zeke started
, K <111(1 of action, and it was not till he
(til run down a dozen apple women that he
his entire ignorance of where
aek Bap might he, and when this information
(i 1 -! gained, he appeared to remember that the
-a mare” hadn't been seen to.
Ac was economical in his horse keeping.—
p e a s ' n gle stall in a small shed near the
depot, brought his own hay, and
o-t care of his own animal. Thithpr he has
liK step, and having watered and fed his
”■ foot from his wagon box an old wool
and raked down the mare in the most ap
■uenner. To be sure tlie steel teeth
a lUtl e more harshly over the bones than
." , Jlu t i’ en 2eko was in a hurry, for that
T hundred” was in his eye.
to by dint of much enquiry Ezekiel
v his way to the spot where the
! e had already began to collect around the
Udder.”
V" esc 'himc?el Zeke, as he came up,
! die chap wot keeps this ere pole f" *
*ii’ 3a f le ::lap -,” answered a burly fellow,
f*; ” , , nose aa( i pimpled chin, who oocu
-I"n®ar n ® ar tbe pole. “Want to try a
hr, " a * U P> gentlemen, walk up—only
.j, . “**l ’ Who wants,tbe two hundred ?”
‘Ut ’ ° n ’ teller,” interrupted Zeke,
/ ?, r Me jm to say as faeow there’s tew hun-
la that‘ere bag up to the top o’
(^rtainly # »» *
I ken get It, it’s mine?”
' Jave a chance for throe dollars,
“•’’'inJf nOWj fh« re ’ 8 yer three dol
tt,» ‘ Be< >w here’s whst goes in for the hull
eSt6 j *“® 8e lf of his coat, rolled up
fid the«!’) , S ivin g a powerful leap, gras
aj° Ut ten eet *" rom the ground.—
t>a longer—he staid there, and
«lij »2|r ““s on terra firmo. Zeke looked
*1 and thsn down upon, his .striped
THE AGITATOR
VOL. V.
For tbe Agitator.
trowsers. Then ho looked at hie bands again;
and raising them up to his nose, while a deep,
long smell seemed to set his doubts and queries
at rest, uttered;
“The duce I -Hog’s fat by thunder!”
A broad laugh from the crowd soon brought
Zeke to bis senses, and convinced him that he
had been sold. But ere he could find his
tougue again an old salt, about “three sheets
in the wind,” paid for his chance and essayed
to climb the poie. The sailor hugged half-way
up and then slid. The crowd laughed again,
but this time their attention was turned from
Zeke to the new aspirant; after waiting a mo
ment in a sort of “brown study,” our hero
quietly slipped away, remarking to the red
nosed man, “he was goin’ to get three dollars
more; he’d be darned ef-he didn’t try it again !”
In an. hour Zeke was again npon the ground.
“Neow, ole feller,” said he to the man who
took tbe entrance money. “I want to try that
ere thing wunst more, an’ I want yew’t under
stand ‘at I shall jis’ take eff my shews, this
time.”
“Got nothing in your stocking ?” suggested
the red nosed man.
“Nothin’ bet my feet,” returned Zeke, as he
planted thirteen inches of flesh and bane into
the lap of the querist
Zeke paid, his three dollars, and minus coat,
vest and “spews,” he grasped the pole. Slow
ly, yet steadily, ho crept up from the ground.
He hugged like a blood-sucker to the greased
pole, and by degrees ho neared the top. His
hand was within a foot of the bag of dollars,
and he stopped to get his breath. One more
lift, and then another, and the prize was within
his grasp. Zeke slid to tho earth with the two
hundred dollars.
“Xhar! know’d I could dew it. I hain’t
dumb spruces and white maples all my days
for nothin’! Good by, folks, an’ ef enny of
yeou ever come down cost, just guv us a call.”
Zeke left the crowd in wonder, and made the
beat of his way to the stable. lie shut the
door to the shed, and then pulling up his trow
sers, he untied from the inside of each knee
one-half of the steel-toothed leather of his horse
card!
“Wall, old Dobbin,” said Zeke, patting the
mare affectionately on the back while he held
the piece of card leather in his hand the scat
tering teeth -of which had been filed sharp,
“rather guess I ken ‘ford to buy yeou a new
card neow.”
Let us, my dear countrywomen, reflect what
a charm would he diffused in every domestic
circle were each member constantly striving to
do his or her best, as they do before strangers,
and making the same effort to please each other
which they would consider the law of polite
ness imposed on them were they in a large social
circle, or even with indifferent people. The
good Vicar of Wakefield required his family,
upon meeting at breakfast, to salute each other
with proper courtesy. “I always thought fit,’ 1
says he, “to keep up some mechanical forms of
good breeding, without which freedom even
destroys friendship."
These “mechanical forms” ure very useful
in reminding us of what we owe to another,
and in preventing carelessness from degenera
ting into selfishness. “Politeness” (we quote
from Dr. Johnson) “is fictitious benevolence.
It aids and strengthens virtue where it meets
her, and imitates her where she is not.”
Is it not surprising that persons who arc
quite able to be amiable in company can not
restrain their bursts of petulent ill temper at
home, though they thus wound and often out
rage the feelings of those they love best in the
world ?
What can quell these domestic hurricanes ?
Let a stranger enter, and the scene changes
as if by magic; all is sunshine and apparent
peace ; politeness comes when it is needed for
show before strangers. Alas for the happiness
of that home where Selfishness is thus found
to be more powerful than Love 1 There are
others who think they do enough at home if
they do not gire way to unkind feelings.—
They consider a negative behavior quite suffi
cient for “the family,” But is this enough ?
Ought we-qiot to exert ourselves, and try to
make home art-agreeable as well as a safe place,
where must, afteraille our stronghold of com
fort? Would it not be well if children were
trained to exert their talents, acquirements, and
accomplishments more in the family and less
for the world? to enliven and entertain the
home circle, rather than to show off in tbe
ball-room or tbe musical entertainment? The
efforts made to amuse and please the “world,”
which never succeed, would, if as pcrseveringly
made at home, conferunspcakable delight on
those who should consider first in our love, and
who, are best and only true friends. In this
waW the young can best reward their parents
and older friends for the affectionate cares and
self-privations undergone often by the elders to
give the education and accomplishments which
make youth so charming. Will you not, my
young friends, endeavor to make homp happy
by your courtesies and sweet amiability of
conduct? to make your family circle the place
of enjoyment every day, every hour, every mo
ment?
If nature has not gifted us with great talents,
if wo are not learned, or accomplished, or witty,
or wise, still there is a charm in kindness that
never fails to please. There is a consideration
for others that saves the feelings, because it is
never guilty of rudeness, never utters a cutting
sarcasm nor vulgar epithet to wound the' self
respect of another, or inflict a pang on a heart
that loves the one who has'thus cruelly or care
lessly made it sutler. And all these graces of
manner, this charm of giving pleasure, do not
require genius, or learning, or accomplishment,
though these will add to the power of those
who possess them.
Happy the home where the real art of life’s
courtesies ia understood and practised. There,
selfishness conquered by the generous desire to
promote the general happiness; and thus “the
friends whom God has given us,” as Mrs. Bar
hauld prettily calls the family,- become the
friends of our choice, one heart in one house
holdcrr ffodsy’s Lai'/s Bede.
to m Extension of tf>t mvtu of tftttttom an* tbe of mtaltbs JsUCorm.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG HNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
The Courtesies of Borne lafe,
WULLSBORO. TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. APRIL 7, 1859.
The Western Hunter.
A British officer, who' was at the battle of
New Orleans, mentions an incident of thrilling
strangeness, and very descriptive of the West
ern hunter, many of whom marched to the de
fense of New Orleans as volunteers in the army
under the renowned Andrew Jackson:
We marched, said the officer, in a solid col
umn of twelve thousand men, in a direct line
upon the American defenses. X belonged to
the staff, and as we advanced watched through
our glasses the position and arrangements of
our enemy with that intensity an officer feels
when marching into the jaws of death, with
the assurance that while he thus offers himself
as a sacrifice to the demands of his country,
every action, he it successful or otherwise, will
be judged with the most heartless scrutiny.
It was a strange sight, that Jong range of
cotton bales—a new material for breastwork—
with the crowd of human beings behind, their
heads only visible above the line of defence.
We could distinctly see their long rifles laying
over the bales, and the battery of Gcn.tCoffee
directly in front, with its great month gaping
toward us, and the position of Gen. Jackson,
with his staff around him. But what attracted
our attention most was the figure of a tall man
standing on the breastworks, dressed in linsey
woolsey, with buckspin leggios, and a broad
rimmed felt hat that fell around bis face, almost
concealing hia features. Ho was standing in
one of those picturesque and grateful attitudes
peculiar to those natural men-dwellers in the
forest. The body rested on the left le"g, and
swayed with a curved line upwards; the right
arm was extended, the hand grasping the rifle
near the muzzle, the butt of which rested near
the toe of the right foot, while with his hand
he raised the rim of the hat from bis eyes, and
seemed gazing from beneath intensely upon our
advancing column. The cannon of General
Coffee bad opened upon us, and tore through
our ranks with dreadful slaughter; but we con
tinued to advance, unwavering and cool, as if
nothing threatened our progress.
The roar of cannon seemed tolhave no effect
upon the figure standing on the cotton bales,
but be seemed fixed and motionless as a statue.
At last he moved, threw back the hat rim over
the crown with his left hand, raised the rifle to
bis shoulder, and took aim at our 1 group. Our
eyes were riveted upon him. At whom had he
leveled his piece? But the distance was so
great that we looked at each other and smiled.
We saw the rifle flash, and my right hand com
panion, as noble looking a follow as ever rode
at the head of his regiment, fell from his sad
dle. The hunter paused a few momenta, with
out moving his rifle from his shoulder, then re
loaded and resumed his former attitude.—
Throwing the hat rim over his eyes and again
holding it up with the left hand, he fixed his
piercing gaze upon ns as if hunting out an
other victim. Once mote the hat rim was
thrown back, and the gun raised to the §houl
der. This time we did not smile, but oast
short glances at each other, to see which of us
must die; and when the rifle again flashed,
another of ua dropped to tho earth. There
was something aiyfal in marching on to certain
death.
General Coffee’s battery and thousands of
musket baits played upon ourranks. Wf cared
not for them; there was a chance of escaping
unscathed. Must of us had walked upon bat
teries a hundred times more destructive without
quailing; but to know that every time that rifle
was leveled toward us, and its bullet sprang
from the barrel, one of us must surely fall!
To see the gleaming sun flash as the iron came
down, and see it rest motionless, as if poised
upon a rock, and know, when the hammer
struck and the sparks flew to the full-primed
pan, that the messenger of death drove un
erringly to its goal—to know this, and still
march on, was awful.
I could not see anything but the tall figure
standing on the breastwork. He seemed to
grow, phantom-like, taller and taller, assuming,
through the smoke, the supernatural appear
ance of some giant spirit. Again did ho reload
and discharge bis rifle with the same unfailing
aim: and it was with indescribable pleasure
that I beheld, os we neared the American lines,
the sulphureous smoke gather around us and
shut that spectral hunter from my gaze. We
lost the battle, and to my mind the Kentucky
rifleman contributed more to our defeat than
anything else; for while he remained to our
sight our attention was drawn from our dalles,
and when at last we become enshrouded in the
smoke, the work was complete—we were in
utter confusion and unable, in the extremity,
to restore order sufficient to make any success
attack.
So long as thousands and thousands of rifles
remain in the hands of the people; so long as
men como up from their childhood able, ere the
down appears on the chin, to hit the centre of
a mark, or strike the deer, at one hundred and
fifty yards, in the most vital part; so long as
there is a great proportion of the Republic who
live as free as the wild Indian, knowing no
leader but their own choosing, knowing no law
but that of right, and the honorable observance
of friendly intercourse, America is unconquera
ble, and all the armies of the combined world,
though they might drive them from the sea
coast and across the Alleghany mountains,
would not be able to subdue the fresh-souled
hunter among the mountains and great prairies
and mighty rivers of the West.
Time’s gratitude and revenge. —Time is a
good and faithful friend, bnt a most revengeful
and remorseless enemy. Like a. deep feeling
find love- desiring human heart, it treasures up
a grateful memory of kindness and good ser
vice ; and is sure, sooner or later, to make pay
ment with the addition of compound interest.
But for every instance of neglect or abuse it
takes certain and terrible vengeance; and none
who incur its anger Can escape its punishment;
for, like death, time is inexorable.
Piccoiomoni replied to a serenade at Troy !-
—“ShentJemen; I am veer, mooch obligee for
dis complements. Pam veer poo i epeajc An
glisb, ant I feels shleepy."
BV A IHIIISiI OFFICES,
Artexnns Ward again.
[From the Cleveland Plnindcaler.]
BaudinsvillS, Isdyant, Feb. 10, 18&59.
Gentz ; Ime in a sad & senterinental Mood
ternite. I thawt at Ist Id kourt the Muze &
did so try to do, but the Muze refused to he
kourted & so methincs I’ll let my thawts ex
press themselves in proze. & spekin of kourt
ing remines me of bow I wood and-one Mrs. A.
Ward, which I dessay will intrest the redera of
jure valerable paper. Twas a carm stil nite in
Joon, when al nntur was husht & nary Zeffer
disturbed tbe sereen silanse. I sot with the ob
jek of mi hart’s afekshuns on the i'ense uv her
father’s pastor. I had experinnsed a faankerin
after her fur sum time bat darsaot proclame
my pashun. Wall, we sot there on the fense a
swingin our fete 2 & frow & blushin as red as
the Baldinsville skool house when it was fust
painted, & lookin very cimpul, I make no dowt.
My left arm was okupide in balhinsin myself
on the fense while my rite was wounded affek
shnnitly round her waste.
Sez I, “Snzanner I thinks very mnehly of
yu," & I side deeply.
Sez she, “How you do run on.”
Sez I, “I wish there was windows to my sole
soz yu coed see sum of my feelins.”
I pawsed beer, but os she made no jreply X
continnered in the followin strane;
“Ar cood yer know the sleeplis nites I pars
on jure account, how vittles has seased to be
attractir to me & how my limbs is shrunk up
yu woodnt dowt me not by no means. Gaze
on this_ wastin form & these sunken ize.” I
cride, jumpin up & I shud hav continnered sum
time longer probly, but unfortnitly 1 lost my
ballunse & fell over into the pastur ker smash,
leering my close and severely damagin myself
ginefally. Suzanner sprung to my assistance
& dragged me 4th in double quick time. Then
drawing herself up to her full hite sed;
“I wont listen to your infurnel noucents eny
longer. Jest yu say rite strate out what you
air dtivin at. If you mean gettin hitched, Ime
in !”
I considered that air enuff for ail practical
purposes & wo went to the parsun's at onct &
was imraejilly made 1. Ive parst through a
grate many trying Ordeels sins that memorable
nite, but Mrs. A. Ward has been troo as steal.
By bein virtuous Ive one a repartashun fur hon
esty whitch few showmen, (alars, alara for the
perfession!) injoy &by attendin strickly to biz
ness Ive amast a hansum competunsy, & ray
show is ekalled by few & exceld by none, em
bracin as it doz a wonderful culleckslum of liv
in wild Beests and Snaiks, a endlis variety of
wax figgers of life sise & the only trained Kan
geru in Atneriky—the most amuzin littel cuss
ever introduced to a diecriminatiu pnblik.
& why am I sad ? raethinks I heer yu ask
Jentle reader. Becawz I feel that the Show
Bisniz, which I’ve stroven to ornyment, is bein
usurpt by Poplar Lectors, as they air kallcd,
tho in my pinion they air poplar humbugs.—
Eastern individiwals, mostly from Busting, who
git hard up, embark in the lecturin bisniz.—
They cram themselves with hi soundin frazis,
frizzle up their hare, git trustid for a emit of
black close & cum out West to lectur at 50 dol
lars a pop. They aint over stockt with branes,
but they have brass ecuff to make sufishnnt
bittles-to bile all the sope that will be required
by the ensewin sixteen generations. Peple
flock to heer um in krowds. The men go be
cawz its poplar & the wimmin folks go to see
what other wimmin folks have on. When it is
over the lecturer goze and regales himself with
gin and sugar, while the people say, “What a
charming lecture that air was,” etsettory, etset
tery, when 9 out of 10 of imi don’t hav no
mor idee of what tho lecturer sed tliaiKnjy kan
garu has of the sevunth speer of
Thares more infurmashun to he got out of a
well conducted noospaper—priced cents—than
there is out of ten poplar lectors at 23 or 50
dollars a pop. as tho case may be. These same
peple, bare in mine, stick up their nosis at mor
al wax figgers & sagashus heests. They say
these things is low. Gents, it greeves ray hart
in my old age, when Ime in the “Sheer and
yeller leaf” (to cote from my Irish frend Mister
Mcßetli) to see that the Show biznis is pretty
much plade out. Howsomever I shall chance
it agahe in the Spring. Ime negoshiatin with
the Jarst Joory in the Hiram Cole knse A if I
kin get them remarkabil iivin curiositys I think
Lshall make a payin season of it.
Very Respectively, Yura,
ABTEJIUS WARD.
Intemperance. —What hopes so precious that
it has not withered ? What career so promising
that it has not arrested ? What heart so ten
der, what temper so fine, that it has not de
stroyed? What things so noble and sacred
that it has not blasted ? Touched by its hell
fire flame, the laurel-crown has been changed
to ashes on the head of mourning genius, and
the wings of the poet scorched by it; he who
once played in the light of sun-beams, and
soared aloft into the skies, has basely crawled
in the dust. Paralyzing the mind even more
than the body, it has turned the noblest intel
lect into drivelling idiocy. Not awed by dig
nity, it has polluted the ermine of the Judge.
Not seared away by the sanctity of the temple,
it has defiled the pulpit. In all these particu
lars, I speak what 1 1now. I have seen it cover
with a cloud, or expose to deposition from the
office and honors of the holy ministry no fewer
than ten clergymen, with some of whom 1 have
sat down at the table of the Lord, and all of
whom I have numbered in the rank of acquaint
ances or friends.— Guthrie.
A good story is told of a fellow in Ohio dri
ving a crazy one horse wagon over a railroad
track. He wae run into by the locomotive, his
vehicle demolished, and himself landed, unhurt,
about two rods from the scene of disaster.—
The engineer stopped the train to see if any
one was killed. “Well, friend,” said he to the
fellow, “are you badly hurt?” The reply,
Yankee like, was by another question, long:
drawn out;. “Will—you—s-e-'t-t-l-e now, or—
wait till—till morning ?”
Fanny Fern says she once had a narrow es
cape from being a-minister's wife.’ Tho witty
Fanny doesn’t tell what thermnistep "e^osipad.’’
The American Wan.
We copy the following amusing conjectures
-as to what the American man will be, from the
Baltimore American. It is evidently a com
pound based upon traits already developed.—
The American takes the several threads and
weaves them into one piece. The result is nat
ural—a man full of energy, full of everything
that constitutes the business man, but totally
destitute of refinement, of sociality, of domes
ticity. His insatiable acquisitiveness finds noth
ing to gratify it at home ; restless and prying,
home, home is the last place in the world to
which he goes, of his own will, and is even then
attracted to it by inquisitiveness, to satisfy his
cariosity as to what changes time may have
effected. When the rest of the continent is
thickly settled and the “coming man” can find
no new place upon which to set his foot and
make a “nice thing" by speculation—when, by
the force of circumstances he shall be compelled
to stay at home—when this time arrives, the
“coming man,” unless some wonderful change
he wrought in his nature, may be about.as in
significant a type as the world has ever pro
duced. But we will append the pen sketch
which the American has drawn out:
“What sort of a man is the American man
going ‘to be ?’ That is the great question with
the Massachusetts prophets. The answer may
be easily inferred. Men whose boast is the
universal Yankee nation is ‘the greatest in crea
tion/ are not apt to admit the inferiority or
even the equality of any other men whatsoev
er. Hence the speculative New Englanders
conclude that, although the existing American
man may be afflicted with a few trivial defects
and ephemeral blemishes, the ‘coming American
man' will be a gentleman such as the world
never saw. He will be no weak copy of his an
cestors, no duodecimo Britisher, nay not even
an enlarged and revised edition of John Bull,
illustrated with cuts and copious appendix;
but an entirely new, original, unique, unrival
led, and unsurpassed man, different from any
that ever walked the earth, and better than any ;
in fine, the very climax of humanity." Ho will
not have the brawn of the Englishman, nor the
impossibility of the German, nor the levity of
the Frenchman, nor the laziness of the Italian.
He will not be able to eat beef by the cord, nor
drink brandy by the pipe; will soar high above
lager beer and pretzel, look down with disdain
upon frog legs and sour wine, and utterly scorn
raaecaroni and garlic. I.can of person, sharp
of feature, active in motion, persistent in effect,
inquisitive in nature, slightly obtrusive in ad
dress, independent in conduct, careless in at
tire, inventive, acquisitive, communicative, lo
comotive, recuperative and indomitable, he will
‘stand upon his hind legsthe wonder of the
sun and the joy of the planetary system. lie
will no longer be dyspeptic; he will quit chew
ing tobacco, cease to drink whiskey, devote
more time to healthful recreation and less to
‘trading/ desist from the manufacture of wood
en nutmegs, and peddle tin ware no more for
ever. But, above all he will be intensely spec
ulative. lie will continue to prosecute his in
vestigations into spiritualism until the entire
household and kitchen furniture of the land as
sumes the aspect of perpetual motion. To rem
edy any inconvenience resulting from this uni
versal nobility, he will hold a grand auction,
sell out the personal effects of the nation, and
thenceforth cast the houses of the Republic,
furniture, clocks and all, in a solid piece. In
brief, he will be the reconciliation of human
characteristics heretofore considered entirely an
tagonistic. He will be a business man and a
philosopher at the same time. He will swap
barlow knives and discuss theology in the same
breath ; run an engine eighteen hundred miles
-Uta day and deliver a lecture on phrenology at
night : write a poem before going to bed and
open a dry goods store in the morning; start a
newspaper after breakfast, invent a machine for
killing cockroaches at dinner, and get elected
to Congress before dark. This appears io he
the ‘coming man/ as depicted in the, essays of
the New England seers.”
Exciting Scene.
A Washington correspondent of the N. Y.
Tribune, gives the following incident in the
Representative career of Joshua R. Giddings :
We must give one scene in the Old Hall more
in detail. We write from recollection. In
1846, the Indian Appropriation bill was under
consideration in Committee of the Whole.—
Mr. Giddings attacked an item which proposed
to pay the State of Georgia for certain runa
way slaves who bad found shelter among the
Creek Indians. Mr. Black, of Georgia, re
plied iii a grossly foul personal assault upon
Giddings. Amid such excitement, Giddings
standing in the side-aisle at the left of the
Chair, was responding with great severity to
this attack. Black, armed with a pistol and
heavy sword-cane, and followed by three or
four Southern Members (one of whom is now
a distinguished Senator,) crossed the hall, and
coming within striking distance of Giddings,
said,- “Repeat those words and I’ll knock you
down!” He repeated the words and went on
with his speech. At that moment Mr. Daw
son of Louisiana, rushed to the spot, cooked his
pistol and shouted, “I'd shoot him 1 by G—d.
I’ll shoot him!”-'The peril of Giddings was
imminent. Quick as thought, Mr. Causine of
Maryland, his hand on his pistol, leaped into
the aisle between Black and Giddings, to defend
the latter; Kenneth Rayner, of North Caro
lina, also armed, took a position at the left
hand of Giddings; Charles Hudson, of Massa
chusetts, planted himself on the right; while
Salomon Foot, of Vermont, now in the Senate,
stood immediately behind him, to prevent an
assault from that quarter. And there, sur
rounded by Causine and Rayner of the South,
and Hudson and Foot of the North, with Black,
Dawson, and other armed and incensed men in
front, stood Giddings, his bead towering above
the crowd, delivering bis speech with great vig
or and entire self-possession; and never, from
the beginning to the close of the melee,-losing
the thread of his. subject, except when, as
Black approached him, be hurled at him the
defiance; “Co me on ! the People of Ohio don't
send Cowards hers!”
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no; 36.
»ho Inquisitive Yankee.
The following ‘new edition, with improve
ments,’ of nn old anecdote/ is eacedingly rich i
A gentleman riding in an eastern railroad
car, which was rather sparsely supplied with
passengers, observed in a. seat before him, n
lean slab-sided Yankee, every feature of whose
face seemed to ask a question ;j and a little cir
cumstance proved that he possessed a most
“inquiring mind.” Before him, occupying the
whole seat, sat a lady, dressed in deep block;
and after shifting his position several times
and maneuvering to get an opportunity to look
into her face, be at length caught her eve.
“In affliction?” -
“Yes, sir,” responded the lady.
“Parent?—father or mother?”
“No sir.”
“Child, perhaps,?—a hoy or gal ?’’
“No sir, not a child, I have no children.''
“Ilusband ?”
“Yes,” was the curt answer.
“Hum:—choiery ?—-a tradin’ man, may
• “My husband was a sea-faring man—the
captain of a vessel; he didn’t die of cholera,
ho was drowned.” I
“Oh, drowned, eh ?’’ pursued the inquisitor
hesitating for a brief instant.
“Save his cJiisi ?”
“Yes theiyessel was saved; and my hustaW’s
effects,” said the widow.
. “ w us they ?" asked the Yankee, his eve*
brightening tip.
“Pious man ?”
“lie was a member ofthe Methodist Church.”
The nest question was a little delayed, but it
came.
‘‘Don t yeou think you’ve got a great cause
to be thankful that he was a pious man and
saved his chist ?” '
“I do ; said the widow, abruptly, and turn
ing her head to look out of the window, the in
defatigable “pump” changed his position, held
the widow by the glittering eye once more;
and propounded one more query, in a lower
tone with his head slightly inclined forward
over the back of the seat; “ Hits you calcula
ting to get married again f”
“Sir,” said the widow indignantly, “you are*
impertinent!” And she loft her seat and took
another on the other side of the car.
“Pears to be a little huffy,” said the ineffable
bore, turning to oar narrator behind him ; “she
needn’t be mad; I didn’t want to hart ber
feelin’s. IVhat did they make you pay for that
umbrel you've got in your hand ? It’s a real
pootyone!”
Gai! Hamilton, in his Jast essay to the Xas
t ional Era , sajs :
There is also a vast deal of nonsense afloat
m the feminine world about Infancy. Lot ever
so unsightly a baby be brought into a room 1
where there are half a dozen women, particu-l
larly young ladies, and what a billing, and coo
ing, and kissing, and hugging, and fondling,
and fracturing of epithets, and hustling toge
ther of vowels and consonants, and a general
muddle, and enthusiastic rhapsodies about the
beauty and grace, and sweetness, and ebar
mingness of infancy. All of which, and a
great deal more, is to be forgiven to mothers.—•
They have earned a right to indulge in any ex
travagance they choose concerning their own
children ; but why uninterested persons of ma
ture years should he so transported at the sight
of a baby, I should not understand. I cherish
no hatred against the poor things; that is 1
am willing they should live. A wise providen
ce has ordained that we should all pass through
the portals of infirmity to the temple of per
fection; and having made a safe passage our- 1
selves, we ought not to cherish murderous de
signs against those who are yet in the narrow
way. We reverence the great possibilities, the
certain eternities, that lie clenched in-their tiny
fists. Our trust for the future should give us
patience with the present. Faith enables us to
see what sight can not discern. Their help
lessness appeals to our better natures; and
thu«, by the aid of religion, philosophy and
charity, we can learn to contemplate them with
a calm and rational equanimity, sometimes
amounting to satisfaction. But so far as ba
bies are palpable, obvious, present, isolated
facts, they are not to be compared, in point of
beauty or interest, to a lamb, a chicken, a gos
ling, or a very young pig. The latter are in
telligent, lively, frolic-some, arch, timid, inquir
ing, affectionate. The baby is lumpy, stolid,
staring, inert; a mere shapeless mass of flabby
flesh, continually threatening to fall to pieces;
a gelatinous compound, not pleasant to look at,
very disagreeable to hear, and too precarious
to be touched. In short, a thing to be commis
erated, nursed, and worked up into something
better, as soon as possible.
A Candid Mind.— There is nothing that
sheds so fine a light upon the human mind as
candor. It _was called whiteness .by the an*
ejects for its purity; and has always won
the esteem due to the most admirable of the
virtues. However little soughtfor or practised,
all do it the homage of their praise, and all
feel the power and charm of its influence. The
man whose opinions makes the deepest mark'
upon his fellowmen; whose influence is the
most lasting and efficient; whose friendship is
instinctively sought where all others have'
proved faithless, is not the man of brilliant
parts, or flattering tongue, or splendid genius,-
or commanding power; but he whose lucid
candor and ingenious truth transmit the heart's
real feelings, pure and without refraction.—
.There are other qualities which are more showy
.and other traits that have a higher place in the
world’s code of honor, but none wear better, or
rather less tarnish by use; or _claim a deeper
homage in that silent reverence which the mind
must pay to virtue Greeri Leavet.-
■\Vhat Makes a Man?— The longer 1 livo,-
the more certain I am that tho great difference
between men, the great and insignificant, itf
energy—invincible determination—an honest
purpose once fixed—and the victory. That
quality will do anything that can be done in
the world ; and no talent, no circumstances, up
opportunity will make a two-legged creatuw *
min without it.— Goctfa,
12 MOSTHi.-
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