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': ' 1 ! . f iftS' - • 4 ° : ...-.2 4 ';'1 t .. ..• . i ir 1 ". ; I ,___:..F. _5 ' • • • - -f, - ...T. , ,,;, , ,, ;e •,, ( 1 , 1r.....-- tto wljt .-: ! . i , :r - - - ::::,:rn,t-s, - --..--• . 0 i ..... • , 7,, , :,,,:. .e ii ,-, •v , ,1 ', , , ,„ .1,.......... ... .., -.. . -- - -- ;...Th 4 ro%k, rp., s; - f: 9. - , - ) _ ..___ __ __ _ • - - - I I,— 1- 71 , ---- ___..........-- ~... ---- - ".-._.__..,-:41.,--, ir •c' • ", . - -- - -- FOR FARMER AND IECHANIC. to politics, nun, Literature, Poetry, illeclianico, 2griculture, the Eliffusion of Useful 3itformation, Oencral lintctlionuc,,'Antoement, 111(11E-tato, Vic. VOLUME VII. THE LEHIG'II REGISTER, Is published in the Borough 01 .. 1 111entoion, Lehigh County, Pa., every Wednesday BY A. L. BLARE, At SI 50 per annum, payable in advance, and *2 00 if not paid until the end of the year. No paper discontinued, until all arrearages are paid except at the option of the proprietor. rir Office in Hamilton Street, one door East of the German Reformed Church, nearly opposite he t•Friedensbote" Office. poetical Elepartincia. The Printer Boy I'll sing you a song of a Printer Bny, Whose bright and honored name Stands out in glowing capitals, Upon the scroll of fame— Who in the days that tried men's souls, In freedom's darkest night— Stood manfully with Washington, And battled for the right. Ben Franklin was that Printer boy, one of the olden time And 'twas that boy who flew his kite To the thunder storms on high— And brought the forked lightning down From regions of the sky ; Twits he who caught this fiery horse, And trained him fur the chase, Till now he's driven safe by Morse Right into the Printer's Case. Ben Franklin was that Printer Buy, one of the olden time Long shall the world extol his name, The patriot ant! the sage, Who full justified by faith, Was proved by every page ; His form, corrected and revised, Is now worked off and pressed: A new edition in the shies, A star among the blest. All honor to the Printer Boy, one of the olden W=2 And now, my brother Typos, take This leader for your guide, Follow collected copy., and All errors mark outside— Be frugal, chaste and temperate, Stick to the Gulden Rule, And you shall shine among the stars, In the Printing Office school. Just imitate the Printer Boy, one of the olden time. The Future. Methinks I see the glorious future, Phcenix - like, rising into the view, Distant in a mist or vapor, That we scarcely can see through See the spectre dimly looming, O'er the distaht clouds that play, When the golden sun is rising; Rising o'er the hills of day. Yonder sits the beam of ignorance Behind the'curtain of the past, And the future one is rising— Showing characters more brightly cast Time is ever rolling onward Keeping all its axles bright, Revolving round unnumbered circles— Never ceasing, in its flight. Ages dark have gone before us, ' flume has rose, and fell to nou,;ht— Homer, he has sung of glorics— Of battle-fields, where Nestor fought Bonaparte has conquered nations— For he delighted in that game— And his wild, ambitions spirit— Brought the downfall of his fame Washington, our country's valor— Bulwark; to our nation's cause : Rallied round our spangled banner— Gained the independent laws. Steam has wrought a revolution— Weeping o'er our valleys wide, Rushing onward, under mountains, Then•cipon the oceans tide. .Now the busy hum of settle— %Break like thunder on our ear the roar of ocean steamers, *tcar.city's wharves appear. This is the Age of great inventions Telegraph, and Caloric steam— Which oar fathers never dreamt °I— DA their sons now idly dream. Working hard is now all over— For women have their cradles rocked By au ingenious invention. That works by pulleys, like a clock. (Let the Fatal bury the past 0 For the great Sheltinah's near— When the world will use the motto; !;lotto flag, excelsior. • tOnward„ upward, still advancing, 1a the watchword, and the cry .LatprcupteNtion, be our lanrlntark WoippOtsa to our destiny. . A FAMILY NEWSPAPER. Miscellaneous 9"elections, The Mechanic's Wife. OR, Tin; REsuLT or PERSEVERENCE "Well, Augustus," said Marianna, as the former entered a bide room which, without carpet, curtain, or ornament of any hind, served as kitchen, sitting room or nursery "we are really settled down at house keep ing• Don't it seem comfortable, after so many privations 1" "Yes" answered the young husband, try ing to smile, as he glanced first at his hand some wile, and then at the little pine supper table, and then at the cradle, where slept a charming boy of six months, "but mine is such a life of toil, that I have no time to en joy anything—not even to play with Fred." "But it seems to me," returned the wife very thoughtfully, "that it need not be just so. We are not in debt, we both have health and [ am willing to be very economical, in order that we may have time for enjoyment and improvement too. Say shall we try the experiment ?" She handed him a cup of tea as she spoke. and looking up into his face With a Eweet and hopeful smile ; but his face was deadly pale, and an unbidden tear stood in his eye, as he answered moodily— "I don't know hnw that can be. Every moment taken from my labor is so much ta ken from my scanty income. We cannot afford to attend places of public amusement; in our present low style of living, we can not mingle in the first society, and I will never consent to enter any other than good society, if we live alone ; and as for improve ment, my education was so neglected in my childhood, that I have little taste for reading and besides, we have nothing to read." "Oh, yes," said the wile, "we have enough to begin with. Here is our beauti ful new gilt Bible, which we must read eve ry morning and evening; and here is your newspaper, with good and improving mat ter enough to last onoor two evenings in a week and you can easily have a share in the public library to 611 up the rest." "But we shall find time, my good plan ning wife ?" "Thank you Augustus, for the compli ment, and now I will phut on. ‘Vo shall rise early and work diligently all day.— hen, if you think you need work longer, you can bring your work into my room, or I will take Fred into the shop, and one of us will read and tend the baby while the other i works. Won't that be a good plan ?" "I rather think it will," said the husband beginning to show a little more interest "but I'm thinking also that my hesitating & blundering manner of reading will not be very edifying to you. I shall make sorry work of it." *Well, suppose you do. I have a Web ster's Dictionary, and we will have that open before us, and look out every word of which we do not understand the meaning. If our progress is slow at first, we shall have nobody to laugh at us, and we soon,shall find ourselves improving rapidly." Augustus smiled incredulously, but seem ed to encourago his wife to go on : "You are indeed a noble planner ; but what shall we do on the Sabbath? I sup pose you expect to advance in the 'march of the mind' when we have a whole day to ourselves !" ~ Y es," said Marianna, "I think we may though our arrangements must be somewhat modified. You know we have a sent in Dr. C's church. You must join the Young Men's Bible Class,. and prepare the lesson in the morning, while I attend the meeting. Then I will stay at home in the nfterncon, and let you attend the Bible Class•and the afternoon service. In the evening w•e will read." "I've no objection to that ; but as a com pensation for my 13iblo Class, you must join the Ladies' Sewing Circle, and I will take care of Fred one afternoon in the week so you will be able to attend.' "Thank you dear huspand, I will gladly accept your offer, if you will let me stay alone one evening in the week, while you attend our excellent Lyceum Lectures.— And let us begin this very evening. I feel that every moment is lost till we do. We have much encouragement. Only think of the many learned men who have educated themselves, and risen to respectability and usefulness through their own exertions; even after they were somewhat advanced in life. Roger Sherman, for instance, Elihu Burrit, and a host of others." The young wife became quite enthusias tic as she proceeded, and would have spent the whole evening in her disquisitien_upen self-education, hod not Freddy's awakening from his nap required some maternal atten tion. Augustus took up the Bible, and rend a good chapter in Proverbs, on the practical duties of life, and declared that he.had never before read such a chapter. The plan was fairly begun. Auptistus was a pale, spare young man, of nine and twenty. His education as he said, lied been sadly neglected in his youth. He had been bound an apprentice to a rough shoemaker in the country, and had unhapi ly settled in his own mind that he was doom- ALLENTOWN, LEHIGH COUNTY, PA., AUGUST 17, 1853. ed to ignorance and a low and degraded em ployment for life. lie had imagined also that his relations were willing to lose sight of him, and his sensitive nature was stung to the quick. After n few years of vexation and toil, he wandered far away from home and friends, and familiar associations ; and a wonder it was that he was not hurried away by the awful whirlpool of vice, and dashed upon the rocks of destruction. Ele had, however, been favored wiih the instructions or a christian mother, and had seen examples in his own family of high purposes and noble efforts. He had, therefore, preserved an unsullied reputation, had acquired a little property, had married an intelligent, cheerful, heal thy girl of twenty summers, and had re moved to a "city of shoemakers," where his aspirations after respectability and indepen• dence might be realiied. But on the afternoon preceding this con versation he had been usdally annoyed.— He had suffered some embarrassments in getting settled in his humble tenement—had sustained some losses, and heard a bitter sar castic remark from an aristocrat of that place which crimsoned his pale cheek and sent him home through a cold rain storm wea ried in body, depressed, vexed in spirit, and almost determined to never make another effort• He was, and supposed he ever must be a poor shoemaker of Twenty yearS had elapsed, and a family group were arranged a round a marble cen tre table, in the parlor of a magnificent house in the city of L—. A gentleman of some fifty years had just divested himself of his outer garments, and dressed . in a rich velvet gown and embroidered slippers, sat reading the journals of the day. A lady, some years younger, sat by his side ; her face beaming with intelligence and gratified pride, as she gith , d at her dignified and hon ored husband, and then at the lovely group of children around the table. Ono was a noble youth, just returned to spend his college vacation at home—anoth er was a tall graceful girl of sixteen, who had just finished a long recitation to her brother and was preparing to cheer the cir cle with her ever-welcome music on the piano. A bright boy of twelve was per forming a problem in mathematics, and a little cheery-checked girl was drawing pic tures on her state, and teazing every body to teach her. Presently the door bell announced a visi tor. A. person entered and presented a sub scription for a religious charity. 'Put me down a hundred dollars,'. said the good man and the collector departed, blessing the giv er. When he was gone, the gentleman said, 'My dear, did von think to send the coal and flour to the poor woman on the cor ner ?'—'Yes, and Frederick and Mary have been round to that sickly family, and carried the clothes and medicines.' .Yd, papa,' said little. Kate, looking up from the house she was drawing, 'they car ried away my new stockings.' 'Shall I send and get theta back again,' said the father. 'Oh, no, indeed,' said the child, tI sent em. Poor little Charly's feet were so The father now remarked that ivw•as time for the family to worship. Ina moment all was silentboolcs, slate, paper and work were all laid aside. A neat gilt Bible bear ing the marks of constant use, was brought. The son read an interesting portion. The whole family joined in a family hymn, and .the father led in prayer, and worshiped the Father of mercles in spirit and truth from the fullness of a grateful heart. After an interval of silence, the son look ed up as if from a reverie, and said, .Fath er, 1 think I have heard you say that your youth was neglected—that you were once poor, illiterate, almost an infidel and entire ly discouraged. It would be extremely in teresting to us to learn by what the means the Mayor of this good city, the honored Trustee of our College, the superintendent of our Sabbath Schools, and the Deacon. of our Church, has arisen from so unpromis ing beginnings to his present station.' The eyes .of the good man filled with tears, his lips quivered, he covered his face with his handkerchief, and for some time no whisper was heard from the astonished audience around him. • He was thinking of the poverty and ig norance of his early days—of the religious errors which had well nigh caused his des truction—of the way in whicn a kind, watch ful Providence had led his thoughtful steps amid all the-dangers-around-him—of-the blessings he had received in his lovely ad mirable wife—of the days of toil and nights of hard study, in which she had shared, and cheered him on like an angel of light and love—and lastly of the countless blessings and honors which now surrounded him. At length he uncovered his face, and with sti- fled sobs said to his wife, .tell the children, dear, the conversation we had together, just twenty years ago tonight, around oui little pine table:' He was the Shoemaker of L—. Cris Honesty is the best policy." The Guillotine and an Execution. The following interestin g description of the Guillotine and of an execution by it, with the attending ceremonies, is from that spri g htly volume just Published—“ Wild Oats Sown Abroad :" • In visiting the guillotine, some mouths since, I had expressed a desire to witness an execution, should any take place during my stay in Paris. I had almost forgotten the ciicumstance, when last night I receiv ed a very poiito invitation from Monsieur Henri to be present this morning Whilst he performed his duty upon some unfortunate victim, whose organ of destructiveness had led hint to knock out the brains of one of his fellow creatures with a hammer. Executions in Paris, considering the pop• elation, are quite rare, and always take place in the morning, without any previous announcement. The criminal himself is only informed of the hour the night before. All this precaution is intended to prevent a crowd, and also to avoid whetting the appe tite of the people with the sight of the Guil lotine in play. It is generally erected after mid-night, so that few, except those in the immediate neig`Morhood, can have time to congregate between daylight and the mo ment of the execution. Eight o'clock was the hour appointed, and we were advised to be there in season, as the government is very punctual in its performances. It was hardly daylight when we reached the Barrier.of the flue St. Jac / ues. We found but few persons there.— A small body of mounted municipal guards formed the inner circle round the spot; im mediately behind these were stationed some grenadiers, three or four paces apart. The majority of lookers on appeared to be sol diers off duty, and the übiquitous "gamins" of tho b'auburg. e, as invited guests of the executioner, were Conducted into the smaller circle, and placed only a few yards from the instrument of death. The plat form of the guillotine had a railing, and was rather higher than I had expected, there being some eight or ten steps to mount, so that the execution may be seen some dis tal-ice off. The guillotine itself is a very simple contrivance—nothing but two per pendicular shafts about eighteen inches apart, and some 13 or 20 feet high. Be tween them, near the top, the axe, or knife, is held suspended by a spring, which being touched, it descends rapidly along the grooves in the sides of the shafts. The axe is triangularly shaped, and leaded at the top, so as to run swiftly and forcibly. At the lower part of these shafts is a wooden collar to tit the neck. The victim stands erect, a short distance off, on a footboard, which reaches up to his breast. 'Phis board has straps for binding the party, in case he should prove unruly, and turns upon a pivot in the centre, so that the executioner mere ly raises up the lower end of the board—it immediately brings the man into a horizon ti.l position, with his neck in the collar— the spring is at the same time touched and tho knife falls—a box roct2iven the head, mill it long basket, which runs parallel with the victim, receives the trunk. While we were awaiting the arrival of the principal personage in the drama, we overheard one of the guards giving an ac count of the execution of Fiesche, of 'infer nal machine' memory. I asked him how. many executions he had witnessed. He did not recollect; but he said that ho had seen eleven persons executed in fourteen minutes. At the time I could not credit this assertion, but I soon had evidence of the possibility of the fact.—Early as it was, the crowd began to increase rapidly. They laughed and joked together, as though it ar,ts a farce instead of a tragedy they were about to witness. There was quite a ludie roue dispute kept up for some time between the occupants of sundry trees near the scene of action, and the .pens Warms,' who insist ed on their vacating this leafy eminence.— Plenty of witticisms were bandied about as these ragged climbers scrambled away from the points of the bayonets. Nothing can dampen a Frenchman's animal spirits. The prisoner came in a close carriage with the executioner. He alighted. and paused a moment at the foot of the steps to speak to his confessor. He was a young man, stout, but small-sized, and dressed in the blue 'blouse? of a laborer. His face was pale as death, and his step somewhat un bteady. Ho had probably never seen the guillotine, for his eye ran over the instru ment, and at last settled .with a stare upon the'glittering knife, which had just caught the rays of the morning sun. There must -have—been—one -- dreadful—concentration-of agony as that poor fellow's imagination shap ed the fatal process. 'The mere silver of the knife is nothing; but who can paint that one instant of consciousness as the first noise of its descent strikes his ear—before its cold edge passed with the crushing weight of eternity to its fearful goal. He had scarcely mounted the scaffold, and placed himself upon the foot-board, before the executioner bad stripped hint to the waist, and pushed him gently forward. His feet rose With the motion of the, board, and there he lay. perfectly horiiaontal. with his feet downwards and his neck in the collat. The knife came with a whizzing sound . — the head jumped forward—the trunk quiv ered convulsively, but was instantly rolled into a basket, and e very trace of that unfor tunate man disappeared from sight,SIVILI the ,grate' of blood upon the knife ! I could scarcely believe my own eyes !- Was it possible that life bad been taken ?- But a moment since, I had seen that man step out of the carriage : and now he was gone—vanished—dead ! It was the quick ness of thought—hardly time for an emo tion. His rapid transit front the carriage to his wicker coffin forbade even sympathy. He passed away like a shadow—almost 100 quick for the exercise of virion. No evi dence of violence--no strmwle—no torture --no apparent agony—no lifeless hody-L-no distorted features, to brand their hideous impression upon the spectator. With the exception of n cold shiver as the heavy jar of the knife broke the painful silence, there was no other feeling produced in me during the execution, and that, too, was momenta ry. I had nerved myself for horror, and there was 'not enough to shock the Most sensative. The guillotine that name of terror, which has sounded the Shame of France in every quarter of the globe—appeared to me the most humane of instruments. We all looked at each other as if there ought to be more ; There was all unsated something, which almost amounted to a desire for another victim, as the appetite increased by what it fed upon.' We could partly nr count for the calm indiffereme with which man after limn was sent to the embrace of this infernal machine during the period of the first Revolution. There is a neatness— a despatch—a colibblooded apathy about the whole affair—that deceives a man into the belief that all is mere machinery. It only wants the aid of steam to make it perfect.— There is no realizing sense of violence—and one almost doubts whether the victim he a r, 2,o a. u n ti o l f .li s a t c ra e w s , sounded L a naturalt . llcati il n d ° t o o l * h e ar it the crowd cry out--• Give us another ! and let it be done slower so that we may see.'— I am by no means bloodthirsty, and yet I fear I should have joined in. The executioner was a very benevolent looking individual, with a soft, sleepy eye. and a certain quiet, gentlemanly manner, that was quite insinuating. Ile handed the criminal up the platform with the polished grace of the ancient regime, and no doubt begged his pardon as he removed the pour fellow's cap. 'After the execution, water was thrown upon the instrument. The head was thrown into the same basket with the trunk, and both handed over to the dissecting knife.— I noticed two drununers stationed near the scaffold—intended, Tether, to drown the voice of the party in case he should address the crowd. It was thus Ilenriut stopped Louis XVI. when he attempted to speak. 1 afterward went to the Ecole Pratique to see the remains. The neck had been very smoothly severed about the third vertebra. j The expression of the face was remarkable 'not the least trace of pain—not the slightest distortion of feature ; hut there was a settled sorrow—an intense sadness—about every line of that palid visatze. It had more the appearance of deep sleep than death—the sleep that follows mental exhaustion. We were satisfied thin no muscular action could have taken place after the blow—and as to the blush which is said to have suffused the face of Charlotte Corday when the execu tioner held up the several head, and slapp ed her cheek, it is all absurdity—French nonsense. Yet, for mere superstition sake, if a person could feel conscioue for a second or two after decapitation, end bu aware of one's multilated condition, how excessively awkward must be the sensation ! one twist feel n sort of 'dividend duty'—a twe-fold existence--like a broken series of equations. Yet it must be a moment of refreshing in tellectual enerrrecut off front the, earthy part—the vile 'body :—grand subject or speCulation ! Why don't somebody give us 'The Reflection of a Dicipated Man ?' If it turned out stupid, he mlehf excuse himself j fur want of head. One Secret of Happy Life, We were in company the other day, says the Youth's Penny Gazette, with agentle man apparently fifty or sixty years of age, who used in substance the following lan guage : Were I to live my life over again, I should make it it point to do hindness to u fellow being whenever I had the opportunity: I regret very much that my habit has been different,-that-I-have induced-feelings—very unlike those which would lead to such a course of life. It has been too much , my way to let oth 'ers take care of themselves while I took carp of myself. If some little trespass was com mitted on my rights, or if I suffered some slight inconvenience from tht; thought of Carelessness or selfishness of others, I was greatly 'annoyed, and soMetimes used rash and reproachful language towards the offen der. I am now satisfied that my own happiness was greatly impaired by this course,- and my conduct and example contributed to the NUMI3EII 46. irritation and unhappiness of others. It was but the outer day, continued the• gentleman, that I was passing along the street, and a coachman was attempting to draw a carriage into a coach-house. He tried once or twice without success, and just as I came up the carriage occupied the whole sidewalk, and prevented my passing., The fellow looked as if it, ought not to be exactly ao, and there was something like a, faint apology in his smile. It was on my tongue to say, •In with your carriage, man ! and not let it stand here blocking up .the passage.' But a better influence prevailed; I went to the rear of the carriage and said-- •Now try again, my good fellow with the end of my umbrella I gave a little push and in went the carriage, and out came thp pleasant 'Thank yew—much ob liged.' I would not have taken a twenty dollar bank note for the streak of sunshine that this one little act of kindness threw over the rest of my walk, to say nothing of the lighting up of the coachman's face. Arid when I look back on my intercourse with my fellow man all the way long, I can confidently say that I never yet did a kind ness to a human being without being hap pier for it. So that if I was governed by mere selfish motives., and wanted to live the happiest life I could, I would just simply obey the Bible precept to do good unto all men, as I had opportunity. All this was said with an air of sincerity cud deep conviction which we cannot give to our report of it. And does the experience of the youngest of readers confirm or con tradict this statement ! Is there a girl among all of them who can say, "I did a kind act once to my brother or sister or play mate, and was afterwards sorry far it, I should have been happier if it had been an unkind one." It is very likely that a kind act has been ill requited or misconstrued ; but if it was performed with proper feelings it 1.3 as certain to produce happiness as sun shine is to produce warmth. We counsel our young friends, then, to seize every opportunity of contributing to the good of others.. Sometimes a.smile will do it. Oftener, a kind word--a look of sym pathy or an acknowledgment of obligation.— Sometimes a little help-to a burdened shoul der, or a heavy wheel will be in place.— Sometimes a word or two of good counsel, a seasonable and gentle admonition, and at others rt suggestion of advantage to be gain ed, and a little interest to secure it, will be received with lasting gratitude. And thus every instance of kindness done, wether , nclinewle(lged or not, opens up a little well spring of happiness in the doers own breast, the flow of which may be made permanent by habit. The Poor Customer. How much butter?" - "Only half n pound if you please." "And sugar ?" "Half a pound." "And these oranges ?" "Half a dozen, sir•" "Yon go by thehalvesto-day : _-_-_ ! well, what . else ? speedy ma'am. you're"ping better custuent•rA waiting." "Half a peck of Indian nteal and one fine French roll ;" said the woman, but her lip quivered and sho turned to wipe away at , prickling tour. I looked at her Rime. bonnet, all broken. at her faded shawl, her thin stopping form. her coarse garments—and I read poverty on alt—extreme poverty. And the pallid,. pinched features—the mournful, once beau !Hu!. face, told me that the luxuries were not for her. Scene invalid haired cut from Ida narrow window, whose pale lips longed for the co.d, fresh orange, fur whose comfort the ten, and the butter and the flue French roll were bought with much sacrifice. And tine him sip then tea, and taste the dainty bread, and praise the flaver of thesweet but ter. and turn n ' i►lr blightening eye to tho ;olden nun. Ard I heard him ask her. I; neehng by the 3rnoky hearth, to taste them with him. And as she set the broken pan nit edge, to bake her coarse loaf, I heard her say, , By.and by. when I'm hungry. ' And •by and by,' when the white, lids of the sufferer were closed in sleep, I saw 'her bend over him With a blessing in her heart. And she laid the remnants of the feast care fully by, and ate her bread unmoistened. I started from my reverie—the 'grocer's hard eyo was upon tne. "You're keeping better cu.btonters wait ing." 0 ! I wanted to tell him how poverty and persecUtion—contempt and scorn could not dim the hearts .fine gold, purified by many-u—triall-that -that—womani-with--her little wants and her holy sacrifices, was bet.. ter in the sight of God, than many a trum r pet•tongued Dives, who gave that he might, he hnown of men.—Olivc Branch. • . M'A new temperance drink is descrtb• up by the San Franciico Herald, composed, of "three parts of root beer and two of wa ter gruel, thickened with a little soft rqunsh and strained through a cane-bottom.chair." rirA terrible cloud of locusts is ravaging Southern Mexico, destroying the indigo and corn crops for a space of 4 , ,,k) nitli
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