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TOE LEHIGH REGISTER Is published in the Borough of Allentown, Lehigh County, Pa., ever!, Wednesday, by RIME, At $l5O 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. CV - Office in Hamilton Street, one door East of the German Reformed Church, nearly opposite the 4•Friedensbote" Office. poetical Ekpattment. . .„,, : • . . CARRIERS' ADDRESS TO THE PATRONS OF - 1)c ,cl)i,gl) Jainsiii•y 11, 1851. A greeting , kind Ptttrons, this bright New Year's We give to you all, with a heart true and warm ; While gladness surrounds you, this blithe fes tal day, Deign kindly to list to the Carrier's lay. Eight long years have vanished on silver wings Since into existence sprung up ourfair sheet,;— We've striven with candor and courtesy due, The wrong to expose and the right to pursue; And while our hand guides it, our ..kuatim. shall be, Fur Right and true Progress, untrammeled and free. As silent, as still, as steals dew on the flowers, Ouce more has Time counted the fleet golden hours, 01 the days, of a Year,that has gone to the tomb, With its sombre hued .hours, and its roseate Its surphine and bhadow, its pleasures and tears, Ate all swept down the dark gulf of the Years, And memory remains to the heart now alone, Of bright scene or sad,that forever have flown, With a sigh for the year that has left us once %Ve turn with a smile to greet young Fifty-Four The New fear! what mem'ries of past joys it How lofty the rose•tints e'en now with it blends! Flow varied its pleasures—a countless array ; The lighthearted find in this festival day ; While the good Tatron Saint" of the dear chil- then all in his fairy drawn car, makes his holiday call ! Yet how many are bound by low Poverty's The day in its fullness smiles for them in vain ; odtern aro languin,lling lonely and sad, In pain and in sorrow, whom nought Can make glad ; How many whose hearts beat responsive and warm, The light ofitho household on la. ) t New Year's tle.poiled of their beauty, their brightness and Lie silent, and puleeleatt,and cold in the tomb flow peieeltil and cairn doh our country appear, More gloriona and propernua with each dawn- ing Year, Serene in her greatness, untroubled she elands, While direst cenvu6ions upheave other lands; Two 000008' wide billows her fertile shores lave; Her flag o'er an empire of freemen doth wave, O'er cities whose turrets toward Heaven loth gleam, O'er woodland and prairie, o'er mountain and Her commerce the world o'er, is wide as the Where proudly her pennon is borne on th-e Glance here from European climes, in war's confusion hurled, In arts of peace we rival now, The: fairest in the world. The famous palace Neva boasts For it aesia's snowy clime, That grand imperial toy of ice, The crystal doth outshine. Richer than Eastern palace gay, Reat'd by a Genii's aid. Our crystal palace stands to day, The fairest ever made; And neath 'its light pelucid dome, So lofty in the air, Thousands have gathered from /broad To view the world's. great "fair." Prom Europe, from Australia's isle, From northern Attic:6 l 'a stores; From Persia, and from fartherest Incl. And from fair Albion's shores, ROM every clime where labor thrives) A FAMILY NEWSPAPER. morn, ECM bloom ; more, sends— MEI 'Run to the door, Katie, run quick ; it's something for me, I know.' A boquet, miss, and oh ! so beautiful !' said the girl, tripping back to the parlor. 'How rare! what perfume. Katie don't you wish you could have such things sent to you There! place it carefully in tilt; vase —to-night I will wear some of them in my hair. That will dn.; ring 1;;r you e; hen I want Tin.' ?Writ, bloom, 'Such great lovinv. looking Lin^ eves, and such a noble forehead ;' mused little Katie as she flew about the kitchen, intent upon her morning work. 'Such soft eyes, and such a serious, handsome face—oh ! how very dearly Miss Julia must love him. If I only—but what nonsense ;' and she burst into a light clear laugh. 'Little Katies that live in kitchens mus n't expect lawyers or rich men for husbands.' stream, Katie stood that evening behind Miss Ju lia's chair, her little red hands half buried in the rich dark curls that she only had the requisite taste to adjust. The daintiest im plements of the toilet lay scattered in proiu• sum upon the marble table, and the mirror, framed exquisitely in bronze and gilt, reflec ted the beautiful face of the heiress in all its varying moods of expression. 'I declare, Katie,' she•suddenly exclaim ed, 'you are almost handsome. I have a mind some time to dress you up and see what kind of a lady you would make. How old are you, Katie ?' 'Fifteen,' answered the child voice, while a deep blush mantled her round cheeks. 'Fifteen,' .mused the heiress; 'a promise of something more in the face—figure slight and graceful—hands ' oh F the hands are de cidedly too large and coarse ! see ! who is that ? quick, Katie. He can't have come yet!' 'A note, Miss Julia.' GEM breeze The beauty read it eagerly, then threw it with an angry toss upon the table. 'Provo• king I , she muttered ; •Frank has been ta ken ill with a violent head•achn, Just now, of all times ! My dress hurrie'd for nothing,' The useful rich and rare, This Crystal Palace safe within, The nations gathered there. But richest stalls from India's 100 MB Nor silks, nor diamonds bright, Nor malachites from Russian mines. Nor Paris gewgaws light : Nor all Victoria's garnered skill Throughout her wide domains, Shall wrest aside the victors palm, Our own Columbia claims. We turn to soft and balmy skies— The vine•clad hills of Spain, Where Cervantes in fancy's realms, Won an immortal name. We look in vain fur knightly deeds, Those palmy days are o'er, And sloth and vice have quenched the power, So proudly borne of yore. And over all balia's fields, A shadowed piewre lien , In vain her soil is unsurpaQsed, In vain her genial skies; Despotic power and Jesuit craft, Have forged in chains the soul, The lofty freeborn hopes are crushed— The generous life-blood stole. And France, whose learning wealth and power Seem gifts almost divine, Her seaboard and her rivers fair, Her soil, her fruits, and clime. Is swayed still by despotic rule, Nor Press nor people reign; But despotism dark and chill, Is o'er her fair domain. And Austria—land of 'iron rule," Arid dark peilidions deeds, Iler tribute adds of crushing wrong, While prostrate Hungary bleeds. And o'er Germanic states, the star Of Freedom waxelh pale;— Ere long the smothered fires shall burst, And hanghtiest despots (plait. And now upon our honored land, N't] crave that blessings fall ; That Peace unite and Plenty crown, And Freedom come to all. That peace and balm come to the hearts, Whose cup with woe runs o'er; To those who weep this morn in vain, For those who 'II come no more ! And to our Patrons, generous, kind, This dawning glad New-Year; May Heaven propitious on you smile— Your pathway ever cheer; And should your hearts be dark with woe Or bright with bliss and joy, Forget not, on this festal morn, Your faithful CARRIER BOY. illi9ccltcmcons Zelectionci. Katie's New Year's Gift. ALLENTOWN, LEHIGH COUNTY, PA., JANUARY 4, 1854. —a satin robe, richly embroidered laid in a recess— , and this is the first ball of the sea son.' 'There, Katie, put the ear-drops down and just un-do my hair again ; is it not rid iculous, mother? just for a slight headache to disappoint me so,' she exclaimed, her checks reddening with two intense rod spots ; 'I am downright angry. If he had Qnly pro posed, I declare 1 . (rgo: 'But if he is sick, daughter.' 'Sick ! nonsense—he is a schemer, and I do, believe he is Irving the in some manner. Any other than Frail: should rue it ; but I have too much respect for his fortune to af front him now. ‘Vell, 1 suppose I must stay at home—but the idea is so very ridic ulous ! disappointing me either for jealousy or seine foolish notion. I'm angry with him.' Katie unhanded and uncurled with tremb ling fingers. It was a new lesson in life, this arrogant bending to circumstances. It was a new lesson in life, this fashionable , afirction of the heart,' this love of the purse, not tho persbn ; she could not understand it. .For a long, loifg, while she sat lousing upon it before the fire, in the ploasant tidy kitchen. Katie was an orphan. She had wept bitter tears above the dying forms of bath father and mother; nay ! she had held both dying heads upon her bosom, and closed their eves with her own hands. She was a girl of rare natural talents as yet undeveloped. kr brain was that of a women ; her manners partook of the inno cent simplicity of childhood. She had been nurtured in poverty, yet by noble parents, who had taught her the meaning of the word, duty. Sweetly unassuming; humble, yet with a natural pride that would submit to nothing dishonerable, Katie was almost a companion while she was a servant. Had her lot fallen where she could have been rhehtly appreciated, she would have been taken to the heart as a (laughter, by the right of nobility of character, and gentleness of nature. 'So she will not come ; and he calls for her so ofttM—oh ! it is cruel ;' and the sin:alter moved .hastily through •the whose splendor was darkened to a twilight sombreness. .Dear lady, will you let me stay with him ?' , You,—child know I am young, but I am strong and not afraid ; and it he does not see, he mat 'lt is her ; so he may—so he might ; he is delirious much of the time ; the room is dark, too ; bat my good child, remember it is a contaaious fever, and one in which tne physician gives very, very little hope ;' she cried, clasping her hands with anguish.— '1 sin myself an avalid ; we cannot get regular nurse for nt least a week—and to take.you, so young and he'althful, to tie you down to a sick room—' 'Oh! say nothing, please madam,' exclaim ed Katie, 'do let Inc stay. I know I am only a child, but I have seen sorrow and suf fering before now—my father—my mother —both died in my arms ;' she faltered, and overcome by some sudden recollection, sank Weeping upon a si at. The lady arose, and with trembling fin gers hers& If untied the poor, neat bonnet, and smoothin g back her fair hair, said, 'bless you, my chil d—you shall stay ; and if my love will repay your devotion you are al ready reeimipensated.' \Vh-rr di-I you say Katie had gone, mo ther'.' said Julia, languidly lifting her head froth the lourto. )vcr to our neighbor's to inquire alter Frank.' 'Oh ! mother, you will not let her cone near the house again,' exclaimed the beauty, springing with energy (rein her seat, 'that dreadful fever I Papa says there are six ly ing dead with it down town.' told her if she went she must stay ; but she seemed possessed to go, and even hint ed at taking care of him ;'you know they cannot get a nurse.' 'Can't they ? Poor fellow ! I pity Frank; he thought so much of me ; isn't it well we were not engaged, mama—it would have been so awkward in case of his death ! He has sent for me, you Say ; he certainly, if he loves me, does not wish to expose me so frightfully; perhaps it is only in his deliri um he calls for me. I hope he'll get well, poor fellow ; I am sure I should miss hint if he were to die. But it is so strange about Katie ! What in the world did she want to go there for ?' and sinking back gracefully . upon the soft cushions, she placed one deli cate hand beneath . her temple, turd as un concernedly as though there were no sorrow in the world, continued the thrilling 'novel upon whose page were marks of tears,shed over imaginary M.O. Far different with Katie. On, how tire. less she was—a ministering spirit in- that sick room. Her hands 'decidedly too large, and coarse,' tho Ugh Miss Julia.had compas sionately termed them, moved softly over the fevered forehead of the sick man. Ever at his side was she, with no thought in her loving heart, but how she might ease his suffering,. And when the faint light in the room fell upon his closed eyelids, and over that pale high brow, and wanted form, she would kneel at the bedside and implore hea ven that he might be saved. Hour by hour When the fever . .was high, she bent above him ; delighted as a child, when he would call her Julia.. No roman tic affiTtion, no jealousy disturbed her gentle heart ; she was doing a good deed for the pare love of goodness—nor once did this humble, beautiful girl think of herself as an equal of either Julie, or the lawyer. Day after day, though her strength grew less, did she continue devotedly by the sick couch, alternating with the feeble mother in discharging her arduous duties. The crisis cane—passed. , He is saved,' said the doctor ; .bnt only by the most unremitting care, under God,' he continued, casting a glance of admiration at poor Katie, who, . overcome both with watching and joy, fell weeping like an it.- (ant into the arms of the grateful mother. -"Flow delicious this tastes,' murmured Prank in very feeble tones ; 'but mother,' he continued, pushing slightly away the hate and the orange, 'I may surely see Ju lia now.' 'She is not here, my son,' said the lady softly. 'But somebody is here,' and with a ner vous movement he parted the curtains, be fore Katie could escape. 'Why, Katie, as I live ! Come here child —you are looking pale, Katie,' he said, ten derly, taking :ter hand, 'you are quite pale. little Katie ; your roses are all gone ; have ,you beer. sick, too ? Sit down here and tell me ; tell me all about Julia—is she well How kind she was to nurse me during all my sickness.' Katie's checks were ns crimson now, ns they were white before. Her lip , - i i2ivered, too, and shri cost a timid look towards his mother. In her bright eyes tears were gathering,and they did not escape the young man's observation. `For heaven's sake, tell me,' he exclaim ed; 'is Julia sick ? did zhe take the fever ?' 'Neither sick I'M-7, nor has &lie been,' srul his mother gravely. 'lt is hest to tell you at once tl.at while you were ill, she sometimes formally - inquired for you—atten. dud two balls, and never came near the house.' 'Mother ! you would not deceive me ; surely I saw her ; surely she 1 - ..a3 herS by my side—her hand in mine.' 'No, Franlc, I repeat it ; she has not'call vd—scarcely sent here since your first at tack. Katie has been your good angel for .lva long weelcs.' Ile glance-I once at the sweet girl ; hi 3 eyes filled with tears, but hi 3 lip v.'as griev d. Ile dr,'w the curtains silently together, and turned his lace to the wall. After that day he said . little about Julia. would lay watching franc as she sat by his mottle', and very, very often when they lea::ed up, the [frieved expression was upon his lip. New Year's morning came, clear, beau tile! and cold. But within the chamber of luxury only the bright sunlight streamed, and the frost changed from forests into little brooks, and wandered about the window panes in sillier circles. Frank, pale, and spiritual looking, sat by the v:indow. Now and then touching the white petals n: a tea-rose, of glancing over the CO:UITIlls of the inorning paper, he seem ed rather restless, and his eye wandered fre quently towards the door. Presently, in came Katie ; and as she drew near to wish him a I lappy New Year, a clear light carat; to the young man's eyes. thank you, little Katie,' he said taking her hand arid drawing her to his side ; , but my child, have you no New Year's present for me ?' Katie started, and embarrassed,- looked down. She, poor girl—why should he ex pect a New Year's present from her—and she so poor, without parents, without a home. .11ear sir,' she murmured nftcr n pane, ^I wish I had ; but can only give my best wishes.' .Katie, if I dare ask you—l knotv you hive that which if you Would give me, would make me the happiest of men—but —I dare not.' .Oh ! ask it, sir ; if I have any poor gift —suddenly she started—paused. A new revelation fltshed upon her soul—his look, his manner ! did they mean that "Kaue," he said again, low and treinti lously, drawing her unresisting form yet closer to his side ; "is your heart free, my little Katie? Can you git%e me so priceless a thing for my New Year's present 1 You have cared for me, Katie, when all' but my mother forsook me. In this fevered room, with death threatening, you passed the wea ry hours, you prayed forme-forsook rest for me—oh ! 1 have heard all—and such devotion unmans me. Not that I think you did it for any selfish purpose, dear chiid," ho continued, dashing away the tears; know you would have gone alike to the poor man's .hovel ; God bless you, noble Katie I" • 44 My child, my daughter." murmured Mrs. N—, straining the weeping girl to her breast, ""you have a mother's blessing ; dear Frank, she is worthy of you." 44 And now, my child, When you have learned all these things," Frank fondly said the sein e evening, ""you shall be my Own . dear wedded wife ; bat, Katie, before we :ay good night, nssure me again that the priceless gift is mine. . Not many have re ceived so sweet a New Year's present I fancy." Of all who heard the news, none were so much surprised, so indignant as Julia, the proud and cold-hearted, but ambitious girl, when it was told her that little Katie had Oven to Frank N—, the rich and courted Frank, whose fortune she once loved—a very precious New Year's gift. :►y a Catamount. I was once told a thrilling adventure of the first settler in Paris, Maine, with a cattt mount. Although I cannot relate it. with that lively effect with which it was told me, still 1 have embodied the facts in this sketch. I had been on a hunting excursion, and as I was returning, I fell in with that oft described personage, the 'oldest inhabitant.' He kindly accosted me, and I entered glad ly into conversation With him. 'Young man,' said he, 'when I first visit ed this town, there were only three families in it. You who live in ease, can never know the hardships, and perilous scenes through which the earlier settlers passed.— Come with me,' he continued, 'and I r will show you the exact spot where the first hut ever erected in this town waslocated. 1 followed silently, until the old man reached the bottom of the west side of Paris Hill. 'There,' said he,'on this spot was erected the hut. 1 shall never forget the first time I visited it, and the story I wa3 told.' 'What is it?' I asked. will tell yoa. When the first settler .roved here, his nearest neighbor lived twenty miles distant, in the, present town of Rumford, and the only road between the two neighbors was a path he had cut him self, so that in case of want or sickness, he might get assistance.. One spring, I think it was 'the third season after he had settled here, he was obliged to go over to Rumford after provisions. Ile arose early in the morning and started for his nearest neigh bor. People of the present day would think it hard to make a journey of twenty miles for a bag of potatoes, and on foot too ; but such was the errand of the first settler. He arrived before noon, was successful in get ing his potatoes, got some refreshments, and started fer home. But it was not very easy to travel with a load of potatoes, arid finally, at sundown he threw ofl his lortd.and resol ved to make a shelter and spend the night. I have been with hint to the exact locality cf it ; it was situated just on the other side of the stream on which are the mills in the village, now known as Pinhook, in Wood stock. He built a shelter, struck a fire, and took out of his pack a pit ce of meat to roast. Ah ! 'young' man.' continued the narrator, 'you little know with what relish a man eats his food in the woods ; but as I was saying, he commenced roasting his meat, when he was startled by a cry so shrill that he knew at once that it could come from nothing but a catamount. I will now relate it to you in the language of the old settler 'himself. listened a tnotnent,' said he, 'and it was repeated even louder, and it seemed nearer thin before. My first thought was for my own safety. But what was Itodo ? I was at least ten miles from my home, and there was not it single human being nearer than that to me. In a moment 1 concluded to start fur home, for I knew the nature of the catamount too well to think I should stand the It ast chance of escape if I remained in the camp. I knew, too, that he would ran sack the camp, and I hoped that the, meat which I left behind might satisfy his appe tite, so that he would not follow the after eat ing it. I had not proceeded more than half a mile before I knew by the shrieks of the animal that he was within sight of the camp. 1 doubled my speed, content that the animal should have my supper, although I declared 1 would not have run if I had my trusty rifle with me. But - there would be no cowardice in my running from an infuriated catamount, doubly furious, probably, front being. Itnn gry, and with nothing that could be called a weapon save a pocket knife. had proceeded probably about two-thiids of the distance home, and hearing nothing more of the fearful enemy, to slacken my pace, and thought I had nothing to fear. I had left behind about two potmds of raw meat, beef and pork, which 1 hoped had sat, isfied the ferocious monster. Just as I had come to the conclusion that I would run no more, and was looking back, astonished, al most, at the distance I had traveled in so short a space of time, I was electrified with horror to hear the animal shriek again eI then knew my fears were realized.— The beast had undoubtedly entered the camp and eaten what he could find, and then scented my track and had followed after me. It was about three miles to' my log cabin, and . it had already beCome dark. I redoubled my speed but I felt I must die,— And such tt dcath I The Fcc9aCclitin of that NUMBER 14; feeling comes to My mind as vividly aq though I knew the animal was now pursu ing me, But lam no coward, though to bu torn to pieces, and almost eaten alive by a wild beast was horrible. calmly unbuttoned my frock, with the determination to throw it off before the ani mal should approach me, hoping thereby to gain advantage of the time he would lese in tearing it to pieces. 'Another shriek, and I tossed the garment behind me in the path. Not more than five minutes elapsed before I heard the shrill cry as' he came up to it. How that shriek elec trified me ! I bounded like a deer. But in n moment the animal made another cry, which told me plainly that the garment had only exasperated him to a fiercer chase. . 'Oh, God said 1, 'and must I die thus ? I can't, 1 must live for my wife and child ren, and even ran faster than I had done be fore, and unbuttoning my waistcoat, I drop ped it in the path ns I proceeded. The thoughts of my wife and children urged the to the most. desperate speed, for I thought more of their unprovided state, than the death I was threatened with, for should I die, what would become of them ? 'ln a moment the whole events of my life crowded to my bruin. The hot blood cour sed through my veins with a torrent's force. The catamount shrieked louder and louder, and fast as I was running he was rapidly approaching me. At last I came to the brook which you see yonder, and it was dou ble the size which it is now for it was swol len by recent freshets, and I longed to cool my fevered brain in it ; but I knew it would. be ascertain death to me as to die by the claws 'of the beast. With three bounds I gained the opposite bank, and then I could. clearly see the light in my. log cabin which was not more than one hundred rods distant. I had not proceeded bUt a short distance. before I heard the plunge of the catamount behind me. I leaped with more than hu man energy, for it was life or death. In a moment the catamount gave another wild shriek, as though he was afraid ho would. lose his prey. At the same ins!ant I yelled. at the top of my lungs to my wife, and in a moment I saw her approach the door %vitt), a light. With what vividness the mornont back to my mind ! The catamount was not so far from me as I was from the house.— I dropped my hat the only thing I could leave to stay the progress of the beast. The next moment I fell prostrate in tue own cabin.' Here the old settler paused, and wiped the drops from his brow ere he continued: , How long I laid when I fell I know not. but when I was roused to consciousness, was lying on my rude couch and my wife was bathing my head with cold water, and. ny children were gazing anxiously at me. Aly wife told me that as soon as shu immediately shut the door and barred it, kr she knew that I was pursued, but by or what she knew net ; and tine I had fallen and the door closed, a fearful . spring was made upon it; but the , lunr w strong and well barred, and t spring of the beast. 'As soon as I fully .recoreted, I knelt down and oflered the inoA fervent ptayer to the Almighty that ever passed iii lips, or ever will again. Aly lamily. and shortly retired, Lot no sleep Vi:ittqi rnr IH". night.. In the morning. when me six years old, told the that he saw the ~ r ev of the colt in the window in the knew the catamount •had been wa;cl.;;n , to gain admittance; but our wiodov.':, you perceive, are not large enuu, - ;11 I.• rent a catamount to enter. . •When I looked imo tlrc-Th., aian m::;• mornimr, I was horror struck at my idioied appearance. My hair, which yd,, t!!0 before, dark as midnight, was eim,-,;;i-cl the snowy whiteness you now see ; and tc.• though I have enjoyed very good hea;dt since, I tihall never recover - from the effect of the fright I experienced un being by tho catamount..
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