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plattirai.
"OVER TILE LEFT."
0, don't you remember Bill Sprigs, mother,
Old Sprigs that lived at the mill ?
Witlipeyes just like a pig's, mother,
- With a turn up chin
And a yellow skin,
Ile was just the man for a beat,
IlOverthe left, you know, mother,
Over the left, you know.
He came to court me once, mother,
When we lived over south ;
And tried to kiss me—the dunce, mother,
But poked his chin in my mouth,
The old scapegrace,
I slapped his face—
h ut ho said 'twos a loving blow ;
Cover the left, you know, mother,
Over thole% you know.
lie was ugly rattle - Id—but rich, mother,
The last an 'important thing—
So let the stupid wretch, mother,
Come when a present he'd bring.
lie said " my dove :
Will you be my love ?"
I told him, " Oh yes, just so"—
Over the left, you know mother,
Over the left, you knOw.
And Harry got quite jealous, mother,
Although no reason had lie,
Aud sighed like a broken bellows, mother,
I told him " fiddle•de•dee ! '
It's all a sham
The old thing to ham ;
For all the love I show
Is over the left, you know, harry,
Over &e left, you know.
And ere I was wedded to Harry, mother,
I still my humor would please ;
An though I'd content to marry, mother,
I yet could not help but but tease.
I should love evermore
Old Sprigs. I swore— •
It made Harry as mad as a hoe ;
Bat 'twas over the left, you know, mother,
Over the left, you know.
When I stood at the altar, mother,
To wed the man of my choice,
I pretended to tremble and falter, mother,
And spo with inaudible voice,
To " love and obey"
Dear Harry that day
To pledge I was not slow : . •
But 'twas over the left, you know, mother,
Over the left you know.
THE OLD BACHELOR'S DEFENCE.
I do not blame a bachelor,
If he leads a single life
The way the girls are now biought up,
He can't support a wife.
Time was when girls could card and spin,
And wash, and bake, and brew ;
But now they have to keep a maid,
If they have aught to do.
I do not blame the bachelor—
His courage must be great
To think towed a modern miss,
If small be his estate.
Time was, when wives could help to buy
The land they'd help to till,
And saddle Dobbin, shell the corn,
And ride away to mill.
The bachelor is not to blame,
If he's a prudent man ;
Ile now must lead a single life,
And do the best he can.
Capital c l fort'.
A NIGHT AT A BAL
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
I POPPED ono evening into the midst of a scene
that made my head whirl round, and half stun
ned me with the variety and confusion of its
accompanying noises.' A band, composed of
half a dozen different instruments, was per
forming the maddest of waltzes ; ladies wore
twirling round, till the ends of their flounces
brushed the faces of the by-slanders—groups
of elderly gentlemen were chattering and tak
ing snuff out of each other's boxes in every
available corner — and ladies, who owned to
middle ago, were . seated in iows, finding fault
with every-body's daughters but their own ;
and, all uniting in extreme censure of "that
Mrs. Leslie," who danced and laughed with
every body : and all wondering, with upturned
eyes and devoutly-clasped hands, " what Mr.
Leslie could be thinking of:" AU this I discov
ered by degrees but my first impression, after
the " loud perception" of perfumes, musk, and
patchouli (which are smells, or something
worse, but not perfumes,) blended with the suf
focating atmosphere which always surrounds a
crowd of humans, was that of a countless num
ber of black legs and coat fails at right angles
with them, all in furious motion, and accompa
nied in their frantic gyrations by a cloud of
whito4ink, blue, or amber-colored-drapery.—
Presently those assumed more defined, shapes,
and I saw they were , ladies and gentlemen
waltzing. After a while the music stopped,
and the staggering beaux led their pal ti s g and
R13111012R
IJetioteb to Total nub Ortitral 3dituri, Agrirufturr, (Eburntion, Riora 311arkrto,
VOLUME IX.
giddy partners ack to th,:ir seats. On one of
these was already seated a young lady who had
not been tripping it ma the light fantastic, as
Dick gwiveller would say, not because she did
not like waltzing, but simply because she had
not been asked.
" Oh ! Henrietta," exclaimed a fair dancer,
dropping, all in a flutter, into the place at her
side, " why have not you been dancing ?—such
a charming waltz !"
"I had no partner," replied Henrietta,
mildly.
0 dear ! what a pity,!" said her friend,
with a little tone of triumphant compassion.—
" I'm engaged six deep. Clara Durrant," she
called to another young lady, who was fanning
Herself on the other side of Henrietta, " how
many have you on your card 1"
•' Only therm," lisped Clara; " ithn't it
thocking to have tho few ?"
Poor Henrietta crumpled her card up in her
hand, for she had not a single name upon it.—
She did not know that Clara Durrant had in
the room an enterprising mamma and three ac
tive aunts, all circulating the fact that " Cla
ra"s papa had left ten thousand pounds, of which
s'ie was to become the uncontrolled mistress
on the day of her marriage." But, of' course,
this had nothing to do with the attractions
which drew such a host of admirers around the
pert, flippant little Miss, whose pink silk
flounces extended in latitude to quite as great a
space as was occupied by the longitude from her
cork heels, which gave her an additional inch of
stature, to the top of her over-ornamented black
head.
Henrietta Merton was in every way tlfe *op
posite of this object of: her secret envy. She
was a tall slender girl, with shy,..unobtrusive
deportment, an interesting rather than a pretty
face, simply braided hair, of a light brown color,
a low, soft voice; and a dress as plain and un
assuming as her manners. She wore neither
flounces, feathers, frills, nor artificial flowers ;
and she began to Nvonier whether that could be
the reason why she was so overlooked by the
gentlemen of the party.
Just then, amid a temporary lull of voices,
in the ball-room, a prophetic boy passed along
the street beneath the windows, singing aloud
of u good time, which he asserted was positive
ly coming. Henrietta smiled and sighed, and
softly hummed the chorus to herself. Up sailed
the magestic lady of the house, leading with
her one of the hobbledehoys who are usually
thrown in as make weights to a party, and dis
entangling the bowing blushing youth from the
folds of her ample drapery, which had been
twisted round his long straggling legs during
their progress across the room, she formally
presented Mr. Jones to Miss Merton. The good
time had not come in so favorable a form as she
could have wished, but a partner ; and in a
short time she was polking with Mr. Jones.—
When she returned to her place, she found that
the next scat was occupied by a quiet looking,
middle-aged man, who immediately began a
conversation, by asking her if she felt too much
draught from the open window behind her.—
Mr. Jones, after bowing two or three times,
and making as many attempts to saY something,
bowed himself off. Henrietta did not, appar
ently, feel the loss of his society, very acutely,
for she continued talking to her new acquain
tance without interruption, 'farther than the
most indifferent of inclinations when he per
formed his final obeisance.
" You have not been dancing much, I think?"
said the middle-aged gentleman.
" No," she replied, artlessly, " I don't know
many p'eople here, and, besides, I never have so
many partners as other gitls ; perhaps it is
because I go so seldom to balls and parties."
" But-you like dancing ?" he persisted.
CM
" Oh !, I am very fond of it."
" Then it is hard you should not have enough
of it while your limbs and spirits arf equally
light. Do you know that young man with the
moustache he who is looking at the pic
tures 3"
"\o." •
" Should you be offended if I were to introduce
him to you ? He is an excellent dancer, and
seems to be disengaged. Before taking such
t e
a liberty, I own -- I ought to be introduced my
self ; but un rtunately, I have no name ; lam
only one of t .Smiths. Shall I present Cap
tain Townshend ?"
" I should be much obliged to you," she
stammered, " if—if it is not contrary to eti
quette."
" That is a point which I cannot settle," he
answered, smiling at her timidity; "but I
should imagine that his being in Mrs. Macdo
nald's house was a sufficient proof that ho is
respectable enough to dance with. You do not
know that I am good enough to speak to you
and yet you do not hesitate to talk to rne.—
" Use every man after his desert, and who would
'scape whipping I'"
"If you please, then ; I shall be much
obliged." ,
" Your name is, I believe, Miss Merton ?
That at least, is the name I deciphered on the
handkerchief which youjeft upon the seat
while !lancing."
a all IPtold93Tp2.
was, dance after dance, until at the prospect o
a prosy quadrille, she said she was tired and
would sit still a little while.
" Do you not dance ?" she ventured to in
quire, though not without some hesitation, les
he shold suspect her of the impropriety of in
viting him.
" No—l cannot," he replied, with a sigh,
and a mournful glance at one of his feet, which
she then perceived was much distorted. A
blush of deep sensibility overspread her face,
and tears started to her eyes ; but his beamed
with joy as he watchedher emotion. " There is
an. operation by which it could be made quite
straight," 'he observed ; " but why should I
undergo all that pain for the mere pleasure of
dancing through life all alone ? When a man
is so utterly isolated as I am, without a rela
tion, or even an intimate friend in the world, it
matters little whether he rides, walks, or hob
bles along his destined course. If there were
one person who loved me—if but one creature
would be the happier for my being rid of this
deformity, or benefitted by my increased ac
tivity, I'd have the operation performed to-mor
row. So you see why I cannot dance. But
that is no reason why you should not—and here
comes Townshend again for another polka. No,
I see it Is to take you down to supper ; or will
you do me the honor of taking my arm down
stairs ?" She answered by passing her arm
within " No, no, said he, with a smile of
triumph as Townshend came up ; " let me do
the gallant when I can. keep you to the (lanc
ing and flirting, and I'll undertake the more
serious departments."
Henrietta danced no more that night, though
not for want of partners.
For two or Hine weeks after this. she fre
quently met Mr. Smith again, first at parties,
and then over a quiet cup of tea at the house
ofa sedate old-fashioned friend. On these latter
occasions he escorted her home at the steady
hour of eleven.
" I have been thinking," said he, one even
ing when the old lady had fallen asleep with
her handkerchief over her face, " about having
my foot operated upon. As I told you before,
I would have it done at once if I thought there
was any one beside myself who would be the
better of it. What do you think ?"
"I• think," she replied, " that you should
wait till you had a wife to nurse you during
your recovery, and to soothe and comfort you
during the' agony of the operation?' She spoke.
in a low collected voice, but her heart was.
throbbing strangely all the time.
"Ah ! a wife !" ho sighed ; " that would
indeed be worth suffering for. But who would
marry me as I arM—such a cripple ?"
" How can I tell ?" said Henrietta, whose
netting silk had suddenly got into a woiulen:
ful state of bewilderment ; " the lady herself
would not answer that question until .you had
asked her."
" Then what would you say ?"
" What would I say to what ?" Here the
netting silk became more perversely entangled
"What would you say—but no ; it is not
fair to put the question conditionally. What
do you say, my dearest Henrietta,. when I ask
you if you will undertake the office you so feel
ingly describe, of nursing, soothing, and com
forting—when I- ask you if you will be my
wife !"
She dropped her netting, and looked ten
derly up into his face. But just then the old
lady awoke.
"Henrietta, my child, you've nearly let the
fire out," she said ; " and bless me it's past
nine o'clock 4 why you must be famishing for
your suppers."
It did not seem so,-however, when the sup
per came up ; for, as is usual under such cir
cumstances, neither ate much. It was an an
noying interruption, just at the critical ques
tion, but I dire say they settled it all as they
went home.
I have seen nothing of them since, but I have
no doubt they are married by this time.
M. A. B.
B 7 - A pretty woman is like a great truth of
a great happiness, and has no more right to
bundlo herself up under a green. veil or any
similar abomination, than the sun has to put
on green spectacles.
ALLENTOWN, PA., JANUARY 17, 1855.
• Henrietta acknowledged her cognomen ; and
Mr. Smith rose and held a brief colloquy with
Captain Townshend, of which the only words
that reached her cars were these : I tell you,
Townshend, she dances beautifully."
" Why does he not ask me himself?" mur
mured Henrietta. But at that moment the
elegant little man with irreproachable mous
taches was presented to her, and in two min
utes more she was gliding about with him in
the graceful mazes of the Cellarius. Mr. Smith
held her fan as a pledge, he said, that Captain
Townshend should not run off vith her altogeth
er. She came back, but it was only to leave
him again after a short time, in company with
another partner of his selection, the fan being
still held to insure her return. And thus
MEIN
THE
PRETTY APPLE GIRL
Some years ago, when I was a ambler throug
the streets of Cincinnati, for the purpose of pick
ing trifles to interest the readers of the local
column of a cit . " paper, I often purchased
apples, nuts, and 'candies, of a young girl who
had a stand near the junction of two business
avenues.
She was not handsome, in the common ac
ceptation of this much abused word, but there
was an artlessness, and yet a winning grace in
her manners, which convinced me that her sta
tion in life should be above the one she then oc
cupied. She wore, invariably, a close-fitting
calico- dress. I felt that her parents must be
very poor ; and as I saw her day after day in
the sank attire, I had my suspicion that her
wardrobe could not be very extensive ; yet. as
she always appeared scrupulously ricat and tidy
it was a great mystery to me how this striking
neatness was secured, and why there was never
any variety in her apparel. I saw that it was
tasteful and becoming, but I knew that ladies
are proverbial for a love of variety in dress, and
I had an interest in knowing why. this simple
girl was so marked an exception.
I have always delighted to study character,
either in high or low life, and I took it upon Ir e
to investigate the pretty apple-girl's peculiari_
ty. Her fruit was ever clean and tempting,
but I often made purchases merely fir the sake
of forming au acquaintance. At length, known
o her as a liberal patron, she began to have
less reserve for me than when I first noticed
her, and finally I wns emboldened to make in
quiries in reference to her family. It was
sometime before she conversed freely, but, by
dint of perseverence, I learned that she lived with
her mother,in a pleasant cottage on a quiet
street in the suburbs of the city. I knew the
spot—its attractiveness had often interested
me, and I now became more curious than ever
to hear the history of the apple girl in the pin]
calico dress.
I ventured to ask permission to call on her
mother, and make her acquaintance, under the
plea for birds and flowers, with both of which
the cottage was surrounded. I did not receive
the encouragement I wished, but still was left
to hope that my. curiosity might be some day
gratified. As obstacles to my purpose increased
I became more determined and I resolved to
change my tactics. I could not understand
he girl'sdisinclination toallow ouracquaintance
o become, in any respect, familiar, but I knew
that she would not dare to treat me rudely, and
watching my opportunity, one Sunday morning
I addressed her, as she stood at the street gate
of the cottage, and, as I admired some flowers
which grew in a bed near the house she could
not escape, politely, from the necessity of in
viting me to walk through the yard. Accident
ly we met the mother . I had an invitation to
enter the cottage; of course I accepted with
pleasure, and, finding the mothe'r inclined to
be more communicative than the daughter, I
managed to learn that they were French folks,
although both spoke English remarkably well.
The cottage parlor was furnished plainly, but
elegantly. There were upon the wall several
pictures, and upon the mantle a number of del
icate works of art, which I was satisfied could
not have been purchased by the limited earn
ings of an apple girl.
Why a young girl, who lived in such a . cot . -
tag°, with such evident taste and cultivation.
should invariably wear a pink calico dres, and
sell fruits, nuts and candies on the street, was
to me a perplexing mystery. There was a•web
of romance weaving around the mysterious
apple-girl which became more and more inter
esting, and every day my resolution to unravel
it became stronger. There was such modesty
in the girl's bearing at the apple-stand—she
seemed so much afraid of scandal, should any
one converse with her longer than was fleece
s:try to make purchases, that there was no way
left; me to solve the mystery of her life but by
visiting the cottage. Again I went, without an
invitation, and boldly made known the'curiosity,
which led me to force myself upon their ac
quaintance.
The daughter laughed, heartily, and said
gaily—
" We have been as much at fault to under
stand your curiosity as you have to reconcile
our circumstances with my employment."
." Then we should be mutual confldents," I
observed, " I have been very frank with you
and T hope you will reciprocate."
" But our relations are not similar," she re
plied archly.. "We are not responsible for
your curiosity, you are for ours."
"How so," I cried:
" It was forced upon us."
"Indeed ; and was not forced upon me, in
such, a manner too, as left me no choice but to
seelo out the mystery ? A truce to this ban•
dying of words ; you will not take advantage
of frankness for any other purposo than to re
ward it with full explanations."
She looked at me a moment, as if questioning
my apparent honesty, and then said ,plea-
Sealy—
" Well, as you have been so good a patron of
my apple-stand, and have taken much pains to
know the romance of my history, if you will
promise secresy, I'll tell you."
" I'll accept any conditions that I can fulfill,"
f answered eagerly.
" Walk with me into the garden, , then," said
the girl.
We had a pleasant scat under' the rustic .
arbor, when the lady remarked—
, " Mother told you that we once lived in a
village near Paris !"
" She did," I answered, " on my first visit."
" We were not rich, but we had a pretty cot
tage, and in income sufficient to support us.—
Father died when I was a little girl. I had no
a
brothers, but I had a playmate who was dearer
to me than a brother. As we grew older his
parents, who were rich, forbade him to visit
our house. We met in the fields. We loved
each other and would not be separated. His
father learned that is - C still met and he was
very angry. He told his son that if he visited
me he should not stay at his home. Our
fathers had been bitter enemies, but we could
not understand 'why that should.make us ene
mies When we loved each other ; and Emile de
clared that lie would not neglect me, if his
father (lid shut his doors against.him. One day
he said to me, " I am going to run away, but
not from you—from father, and you shall come
to one, and then we shall never be parted
again." It was bard for me to consent, but
Emile insisted, and we took leave of each other,
and he did run away. It was a long time
before we beard of him—then we got a letter
which told us he was in America. I had
changed very much since Emile's absence, and
mother was afraid I would die; I coaxed her
to take us to America ;- Emile told us in the
letter that he lived in Cincinnati. When we
arrived at Boston we inquired for Cincinnati,
and were directed to this place. Mother bought
this cottage, and here we have lived, expecting
to meet Emile."
Have you never heard from him ?" I in
quired.
" Only once;" she answered.
" Do you know where he is now ?"
" No, indeed ; if we did we would not stay
here long !"
" Have you ever written to him ?"
"We do not \now his name. He has
changed it, as he told us in his last letter, but
he neglected to tell us what name he now
bears."
" Do you think you will eves find him ?"
" Yes indeed, I do. I dream about him
every night. I know he is not dead ; and I
shall soon meet him ?"
" What makes you so confident that you
shall find him ?"
I made this inquiry, hoping it might lead to
some explanation of the pink dress and apple
selling mystery.. She understood my look
and tone of curiosity, and answered pleasantly :
" That will explain to you the romance of
my dress and occupation. When Emile and I
played together in France, I often wore a dress
very much like this one. If he should see me
anywhere in this dress, lie would know me. I
might see him and not know him, but he Would
recognise me, and I • would not dress in any
other style, for fear we might miss each other."
" But why sell apples in the street'?" said .I
with a look of admiration for her .devotion,
which she could not mistake. " There is cer
tainly no necessity, that you should be so oc
cupied." 4-
" Yes there is," she answered naively, " I
must be Where Emile could see me, if he were
to visit this city. I dare not be on the street
all the time, unless I was'occupied, and I never
thought thero was any disgrace in selling
apples."
" Certainly not," I exclaimed, " but all who
know your history will honor you. Accept
my sincerest wishes, that your devotion to the
lover of your youth, may be fully rewarded
by an early Meeting and a happy. re-union;"
" Thank you—thank you—but ho is my
loVer now, as much as ho was when we were
in France, and I know I am going to see him
soon: I'll show him to you before winter; I
know I will. Mother says 1 aril foolish, but
something tells me to hope, and I hope."
" May you not be disappointed," I said in
voluntarily.
A few days after this interview ; I missed the
apple-girl in the pink dress, from her accustom
ed stand. Fearing that she might be sick, I re
solved to Ball at the cottage in the evening.—
When I went to the boarding-house at, supper
time a Mite was handed to me. It contained
these words :
"DEAR Sta—Come to our house this even
ing. We have something more to tell you
about tho romance, (as you call it) of my
humble dress and occupation.
~ THE APPLE GrnL."
I went—the mother stood in the door to
welcome me, but the daughter ran to meet me,
and, taking both of my bands in hers, in almost
An. Example for Boys. -
Every apprentice can bear testimony to the•
tricks and impositions which elder associates
use in order to try his temper and metal, in his.
first days of apprenticeship, but every one is
not philosopher enough to know how to receive
them. We find in the biogrq,phy of Horace
Grecly a paragraph on this point„ which wo
commend to the attention of boys
" The new apprentice took his-place at the
front, and received from the foreman his
" copy," composing stick, and a few words of'
instruction, and then he addressed himself to•
his task.. He needed no further assistance.
The mysteries of the craft ho seemed to com
prehend intuitively, He had thought of his
chosen vocation for many years ; he had formed . .
a notion how the types, must be arranged in
order to produce the desired impression, and,
therefore, all ho had to acquire was manual.
dexterity. In perfect silence, without looking
to the right or to the left, heedless of the say
ings of the other apprentices, though they
were bent on mischief and tried to attract his
attention. llorace worked on, hourafter hour,
all day ; and when he left the office at night
could set type better and faster than many an
apprentice who had a month's practice. The
next day he worked with the same silence and
intensity. The boys were puzzled. They
thoughtt, it absolutely incumbent on them to
perform an initiating rite of some kind ; but the
new boy gave them no handle, no excuse, no
opening. He committed no greenness, he spoke
to no one, looked at no one, seemed utterly ob
livious to• every thing save only his copy and
his type. They threw type at him, but ho
never looked around. They. talked saucily at
him, but he threw back no retort. This would
never do. Towards the close of the third day,
one of the oldest apprentices took out the largo
black balls with which the printers used to
dab the ink upon the type, and remarking that
in his opinion Horace's hair was of too light a
hue for so black an art, which he had underta
lien to learn, applied the ball, well inked, to-
Horaee's head, making four distinct dabs.
The boys, the journeyman, the pressmen, and
editor, all paused in their work to observe the
result of his experiment. Horace neither spoke
nor moved. Ile went on with his work as
though nothing had happened, and soon after
went to the tavern where he boarded, and spent
n hour in purifying his dishonored locks. And
that was all the " fun" the boys got out of
their new companion on Mat occasion. They
were conquered. In a few days the victor and ,
the vanquished were excellent friends."
NUMBER 15
From the lips of woman, every infant hears
the first accents of affection, and receives the
first lessons of duty in tenderness and love.—
For the approbation of - woman, the grown-up
youth will undertake the boldest enterprise
and brave every difficulty of study, danger, and
even death itself. To the happiness of woman,
the man of malurer years will devote the best
energies of his mind and body ; and from the
soothing and affectionate regards of woman, the
man who is become venerable by years, derives
his chief consolation in life's decline. Who,
then, shall say that the one-half of the human
race, and they confessedly the most virtuous and.
the most amiable, may not bo entrusted with
an intelligence and an influence equal to our
own ? To them, when sorrow afflicts us, wo
consign half our sufferings, and they cheerfully
relieve us by lightening them. When joy de
lights, we give the half of our pleasures, and
they as readily consent to share them. They
lessen, by their sympathy, the pangs of all our
privations, and they increase, by their partici
pation, the ecstasy of all our delights. They
deserve, therefore, the full enjoyment of every
privilege that it is iu our power to confer on ,
them. .
They that cry down moral honesty, cry
down that which is a great part of religion, my
duty towards God, and my duty towards man.
What carol t%see a man run after a sermon, if
he cozens and clients as soon as he comes homo I
On the other hand; morality must not bo with
out religion ; for if so, it may change as I see
convenience. Religion must govern it. He
that has not religion to govern his morality, is
not a dram better than my mastiff dog ; so long
as youstrcke him, and please him, and do not
pinch him, he will play with you as finely as
may be, he is a very good moral mastiff; but if
you hurt him he will fly in your faco and tear
out your throat.
As certainly as spring will return after the•
lapse of *inter, so certainly will friends, lover'
and kindred meet again ; they will meet mails
in the presence of the all-loving Father; and.
then, first will they form a whole with each
other and with everything good, after which
they sought and strove in vain in this piecemeal
world. And thus does the felicity of the poet,
even here, rest on the persuasion that all have
to rejoice in the care of a wise God,_whosepow•
er extends unto all, and whose light lightens.
.upon all.
137'Whenover you see a man spending his
he in lounging about tho streets, taking poli•
ics, yo u need not expect that he has any money
o lend.
.• 07110 that in'company oni studies men's
diversion, may be sure, at thlb'samo time, to
lose their respect. •
a delirium of Joy, she cried—
', Ile's come—he's come." •
In her pink dress at the apple•stand she hadi
met Emile the day prvious.
I stood that night as a witness to their union,.
and a happier wedding I never attended. The.
devotion'of the,timple•hearted girl was reward
ed—her faith was not misplaced—her homol7
talisman provcd a true one.
Woma U.
Morn I Honesty.
Hereafter.
a