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„i iic „,T FOR FARMER AN
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McData to politico, iNcw,s, £itcrnturc, poctril, Illecijanic,s, 'Agriculture, the rldfuoion of Useful 3nformation, General Ittelligence,'Amtteicincut, .91ariteto,
VOLUME VIII.
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..