Zhe riegister I. published in the Thirough of Allentlmn, Lehigh County, Pa., every Wednesday, by Haines & Diefenderfer, At 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. 11:7'OFEtcs in Hamilton street, two doors west of the German Reformed Church, directly oppo site l'ifoser's Drug Store. it:netters on business must be POST PAID, otherwise they will riot be attended to. JOB PRINTING. Having recently added a large assortment of fashionable and most modern styles of type, we are prepared to execute, at short notice, all kinds of Book, Job and Fancy Printing. leSottir at. TEMPT ME NOT TO DRINK AGAIN 0. tempt me not to drink again For I have drunk too deep ere now, Till reason Bed my raging brain, And beast was branded on my w. Mow oft for me the goblets brit • Ilath sparkled with ambrosial vine, Whilst 'neath its surface, dark and grim, Despair would whisper thou art mine. Away ; accursed thing, away, I cannot longer bear the rod, Which all endure who, 'lured astray, Have bowed them to the drunkard's god, Long years have pass'd since first I fell A victim to this wily foe ; What I have suffered none can tell ; How long, also too many knew. Three boys upon the. deep now roam, The eldest scarcely yet a score, They fled a, drunken father's home, And may perchance return no more Two sleep beside their mother's grave, The happiest of the five ; And one remaius for me to save ; If yet my daughter ho alive. I saw her, 'tis not long ago, Her brow, though placid, plainly bore The impress of some hidden woe, Where hope angelic beamed before. Full well I know the secret grief, 'Which prays upon her breaking heart, And what alone can bring relief, And bid'en now despair depart. Then tempt me not to drink again, For I have drunk too deep ere now, 'Till reason fled my raging brain, And beast was branded on my brow NETTA CLAY; OR, THE 'MOTHERLESS GDR I, BY EI.LA FARMAg " T have no mother, for she died When I was very young But her memory still around my heart, Like morning mists has hung." Mamma, Netta has broken a salver full coffee cups. I wish she could be punished for such carelessness,' exclaimed Lena ('lay, a richly dressed girl of sixteen summers, as she entered the parlor one morning. ' The careless thing !! said the beautiful Mrs. Clay, ' I don't know What to do with her. It's an absolute waste to have her in the house.' ' Clara,' and her husband, a noble lookit man, spoke sternly; Clara I cannot hear yo speak thus'of my child, remember. You shoul keep another servant girl if you wish the wor done properly. Annetta is young and unac. customed to work.' • Mr. Clay,' and the wife's black eyes spark led, Mr. Clay, when I became your wife supposed that I could manage the household as I chose. But I find I was quite mistaken.— That ugly child of yours wishes to manage me .and Lena both. She is perfectly disrespectful. No mother can see her only child thus treated. But you will not permit me to manage her at all, Mr. Clay, and I should be very grateful if you would do it yourself.' I never saw a child act as Netts, does,' said Lena petishly. ' She acts very strange. I let her do the ironing last night, and she came up about twelve, just as I came home from the party, and sat down on the floor and began to cry s and made such a noise, so i just rose and gave her a whipping, which silenced her.— Then she began to'read in that old llible, and I never can sleep with a light in, the room: She will have to sleep in the garret after this. But I punished her this morning,' and the little im perious beauty laughed gaily. Baring Lena's speech, Mr. Clay's eyes had flashed more than once, and he finished, the breakfast in silence. As he left the room he said to himself, I can endure this no longer ; Clara is my wife,-to be sure, but Annetta is also my child. He paused at the kitchen door and iveil he might. Upon the cold, hard floor, with her golden head resting in a chair, lay his daughter Hotta. She had been weeping, for the traces of tears were on her colorless cheeks ; but she was calm now, save the quick beating in the veins of her low, meek brow, and tremulous quivering of her sweet -childish lips. Her small hands reddened by toil, were carelessly clasped togethet;, and a small red book lay amid the folds of her plain calico dress. Netta sprang up affrighted as she heard the door pushed open, and her checks glowcdoerhn son as she hid the book in her pocket. But as Ow saw it was her father, her cheeks paled again and the tears gushed into her eyes. A tear tre led in the father's eye as he saw the worn feat es of the fair girlish face, and the si thinness of the entererform attired in a coarse, ill-fitting costume. Netta,' said he kindly as he went up to her and laid his hand (in that small head with its masses of the golden curls, . . . ~. . ~.,... ~.,., .. t .., ~. ...,. L ::.;,. t:::. ~..: .. .....„ i..,. ...:., h ~, ~..„ _ :.,.. .. .. . . • • . ._, ~..., ~...,. ...4 1 ...it . • 1.1. ..,. 1 , ...),- . „,..: ... : .. i .:.„.:._ , .. .:..,. .... ~ 7 . ;...: . 4 . ' ...' . 1 1 . 4 Igfi- ~.:,- .........,.......,, - - AT' • wy,.. , t 4:.:: - -- 4 e,..-ii; •Ae0,.44.1,i-?. - "17 - 7:4. . '-•.,:t..f.;%., - - - ;i:1i...-$4 - 4; '',X;r4. - , -,± • - • . . ..._... ~ . _ Vrtioto to Drat 110 &nit 315,au, Agritutturr, auration, 311,oralitti, 51nunytlint, 3111111;1,th, VOLUM Netts, are you sick ?' A low moan was her only reply. Then he said again, ' my child, you are pale and sick. Tell me what is the matter.' Then the fair fragile girl looked up at him with those deep blue eyes, half veiled by droop ing eye lashes, those deep blue. eyes so like those of her dead mother's, which had been so often uplifted to his. Then she wound her thin white arms, about his neck, and said in a low trembling tone, No, papa, I don't think I'm sick, but I am so - weak that I can scarcely stand on my feet. Oh, papa,' and she sobbed bitterly. After a moment's silence, Mr. Clay said, up into one of the parlors and lie down on the lounge. Do as I tell you, Netta hereafter.' ' Yes, papa,' said Netta, at the same (line shivering with terror, don't tell me to go there ! She will beat me if 1 do.' heat you, Netta ! Who will beat you darl g ?' asked he tenderly. Netta hesitated a moment and then said tremblingly—` Ihey said they would beat the to death, even if I told you of it. lint Mrs. Clay, mamma, I mean, and Lena whip Inc cruelly every (lay.' What for, 'Netta V said he in a calm tone. though his eyes flashed fiercely. I don't know, papa,' she replied childishly ; ,•esterday I went into the parlor to look at my amma's picture, and then Misi Lena came in and boxed my ears hard and told 100 to go out : and Miss Lena's Mother came in and told me never to come up there again. But Oh, did want, to see mamma's picture so had, and before I thought T told Miss Lena it was my Papa's parlor, and that I had a better right there than she had; and then they whipped me and shut me up in the cellar closet.' The red blood rushed in a fiery tide to Mr. Clay's cheeks, but he restrained himself and said calmly, • You should have told me of this before, Netta.' Don't blame me for it, papa,' said Netta nploridgly. They would have killed me. and ,eshles I did'ut think you would care. Miss .ena, said you didn't care anything about me, ow that vou had married her handsomeinnth- r. 11M - 1 I thought you (brut papa, for you ever come and talk with me as you used to.— 'here has'nt been anybody to love me since namma died, has there 3' and the blue eyes up • ifted to his were very earneM. The father gazed mournfully down on the pale sweet child lie held injtis arms, and as lie remembered all his nerd.edf of her two years, he almost shuddered. Anil in that moment of silence the image of his dead wife seemed to raise up from the far country grave in which lie had laid her, and stand before him. And the dead blue eyes, just like those of the child, gaz ing up at Viin,had a saddened look lingering in their depths, and the dead lips wore a re- iroachful expres,,ion, and a spirit voieo seemed to say in low upbraiding tones, I fast thou for gotten the pale chill I left as an only remem brance ?"I.'he father sighed as the sad vision faded away and he bore the pale little Nettn up into one of the gorgeous parlors, and laid her by the glowing fire on a pillowy lounge, where she could see a sweet, girlish face gleaming out of a frame—the face of her dead mother. As Nolta laid there in the luxurious stillness, the soft eyes in the picture seemed like anise eyes, and the red lips wore a seraph smile and the golden hair seemed like a crown o IMO Albert Clay was only twenty-two when he married a gentle girl with winning ways. , Ten summers Annetta Lee blessed him with her love, and then faded from earth, leaving one little girl—Netta—to cheer his loneliness. Two years he lived alone in his stately man sion with Netta and his widowed heart. But after a long communion with himself, he re solved to-marry some lovely, amiable woman, to be a mother to his little girl who was ten years old. After carefully studying the charac ter of his female acquaintances, he found none .among them so gentle and amiable, so sympa thizing; with him, the wealthy widower, so idolizing his motherless daughter, as the beautiful widow, Clara Appleton. And her only daughter—Miss Lena—a beautiful girl of •fourteen, loved Netta so dearly—alWays with her at her school, never happy away from her —oh, it was all so fascinating that the rich Mr. Clay married Mrs. Appleton, and took her and Lena from their small cottage to his stately mansicm For a few months the utmost deference was ,paid to Mr. Clay's slightest wishes, and little Xetta was petted more than ever ; she was always richly dressed and kept in the parlors, and when visitors paid fashionable calls, the beautiful Miss Clara would point to her and Lena and say—' My two darling daughters !' especially when Mr. Clay was present. All went on as well as marriage bells, and Mr. Clay congratulated himself on possessing su cient sense to have selected such a lovely Wife from the multitude of maidens, ladies, and dis consolate widows, and scheming daughters who had crowded his path ' thick as leaves in val ambrose.' gd12113 JVHIIIII---.lITIPlial LID T(OII9TIVL ALLENTOWN, PA., AUGUST 1, 1855. But after a while there began to be a change. Mrs. Clay and Lena did not always wear sweet smiles, and the itonation of their voices were not always the softest; and somehow Netta was not as joyous as she had been at first, her (Ike was paler and sadder, and she was more plainly dressed, and not s 6 much in the parlors. Thus matters went on and Mr. Clay never saw his motherless girl save in the hitchen, and he seldom went there, his mind was so occupied by business cares and his beautiful bride, and for a long while he did not notice her absence. llut when Clara and Lena both openly abused her, his fatherly feelings were touched, and the old love for his child awoke, end at last he saw his mistake in marrying, but too late. Vet he determined that they should not abuse the only child of his first wife. It was a chilly, rainy day, and everything looked dismal and cheerless in the city. Clara and Lena sat in their rich bourdoir where a blazing fireglowedredlyin the grate and made it warm and cozy. Netta was there, too, for Mr. Ciaylaid down strict orders. and they did not dare disobey them by sending her into the kitchen, and now she NVOlt as costly robes as Miss Lena did, and was provided with books and teachers. Netta was reading a richly bound book— Eliza Cook's Poems. For she in her loneliness had found a deep love for all that was beauti ful, and poetry to her was as stars are to mari ners far out on the pathless sea. Netta had altered much in two months. There was a soft light in her eye, a rosy flush on her cheek, and the wearied, toil-worn look had vanished ; but the smile on her lips was always sad: Mrs. Clay, in a brocade dressing robe was lying on a sofa, reading ' 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' and weeping over the misfortunes of Eliza—for Mrs. Clay bail one of those peculiarly formed heads which could sympatldze with all popular sorrows Lena satin a richly cushioned rocking chair busy with her patterns, zephyr worsted and velvets. But she soon threw it down, pertulently ' There, I can do nothing more Until I have two more skeins of that particular scarlet, and two morcof that lighted azure. What shall I (To ? I ought to finish it for the,Ladies' Fair.' T dont know what you will do ! Where (lid you select r asked the mother, looking up from her reading. AL one of the further shops on Broadway,' replied Luna. must have some more home dia tely sonic , way. Von will have to go, Annetta,' said Mrs. Clay, ' the girls are all busy down stairs and cannot be spared, and Lena's health is too delicate to think of her going out in such stormy weather, and the worsted must be had itnine diately.' Netta shuddered as she shut her entrancing book and looked out on the cheerless street, and up at the leaden sky from which the rain came steadily down, and not one lady predestrian to be seen on the street. ' Ah, it rains so fast, and it will be such hard walking, mother,' re plied she. Nonsense, it is nothing for a stout healthy girl like you,' said Mrs. Clay, without looking from her book. Why not wait until papa comes home ; he will get them for you,' said Netta. pleadingly. You indolent thing !' exclaimed Lena hn perionsly. Go get them quick : I cannot wait till night. Don't sit there hesitating.' Netta cast a shivering glance at the stormy sky—bnt she knew it would be useless to re monstrate, for her father was not there. As she rose, Mrs. Clay handed her a thin broeha shaWl and a common bonnet. Netta glanced at them and said. Oh don't send me out so thinly clad. It is very cold. Let me wear my Hush girl,' imperiously said Mrs. Clay ' to humor you would take half my husband's in come.' I wonder papa does have half as much for her as lie does,' said Lena. lle is my own papa,' said Netta ' and he loves me. as much as he does those he shelters beneath his roof.' Mrs. Clay sprung to her : feet in a passion ex. claiming. You saucy thing ! lton dare ybu speak disrespectfully of me or Lena! Go on your errand immediately ; and the thinly clad Motherless girl was sent out into the rain to perform a taing errand which required her to go to the other end of Broadway i and the step-mother an stepsister sat in their luxuri ous boudoir, reveling in sumptuous elegance. Mr. Clay passed out of his rich store on Broadway, and walked hastily along the pave ment, thickly and warmly clad in his heavy overcoat and fur cap, a large umbrella shield ing him from the blinding sleet and rain. As lie passed a lofty dWelling with high marble steps, he heard a moan strangely low and plain tive, and he murmured—' Some poor beggar girl, I suppose ; pity for a girl out in this storm.' Then low moans and sobs rose up and fell on his ears. He stood irresolute. The wind blew the rain and sleet harshly in his face. He thought of the warm, pleasant sitting room at home, with its soft carpet and crimson curtains and velvet lounges and cushioned rocking chairs. He thought of the warm kiss with which Netta would meet him. Then like starting voices bidding him to turn back, came those plaintive moans, and in a Moment he stood by the marble steps of the lofty dwelling. The girl was half sheltered by an umbrella : beneath it he caught a bright gleam of gorge• ous cashmere. Who could lie moaning on those marble steps robed in such rich material ? Ile hastily tore the umbrella from the clasp of the red, stiffened fingers ; but the girl a slen der• thing, lay with her face down on the cold white marble. She did not see the man Ly her side, but moaned on, Mr. Clay could hear her faint, childish voice saying—' Oh papa, come and take me home ; I shall die here in this cold rain.' Oh, why in those, low, touching tones was there a familiar sound, it household tone which thrilled Albert Clay's heart with a vague, in distinct sense of pain ? In a moment the shiv ering childish form was clasped in his arms.— Then the pale, wet face, with 'its faint, white features met his gaze. It was his own Ilaugh ter Nett a. For a moment all was dim before his eyes, and the strong man sank faintly on the marble steps where his child had laid in agony. 'Then he saw the parcel of worsted lying on the pavement, and he comprehended it all, and he was nerved again. As he clasped Netta to his heart she opened her blue eyes on him, and as they Tosted on the saddened face bending ten, derly Over her she murmured faintly—‘ Ts it you papa ? Oh, lam glad that you have come to take me home to mamma—my angel mam ma,' and a tiny arm was clasped tightly about his neck, and a golden head rested confidingly on his bosom. Netta was unconscious. Then the father went swiftly on, merely • pausing to order a physician. Ile hastily went up to the steps of hie mansion, entered without ringing, and with his heavy over-shoes and dripping coat and hat, he entered his wife's rich boudoir and laid Netta on a sofa. Lena and Mrs. Clay grew icy pale. They saw a pall folding tightly around their. future. here is a specimen of your love towards my child. See your work. You heartless, cruel woman,' said he sternly, as he glanced for the first time on them. The doter came, and at last Netta fell into a quiet slumber, which soon changed into a broken, troubled slumber, and her cheeks be gan to glow with the crimson light of fever heat. At intervals site awoke, muttering inco herent sentences. And at the red light of dawn she was raving in delirium. All day through that hushed. darkened chamber rang Netta'S voice—pleading at times, then in frightful tones like those of a wounded bird : then softened down to a cadence low and mild as th'e flow of still waters. Then she would moan again, and her earnest voice would be heard —‘oll, moth er, it is so cold, and the shawl is so very thin, let me wear my cloak.' Then again she would sob with outstrcched arms. Oh, papa, conic and take me home. The wind blows and it rains- hard. Come after me, my own papa, I can go no farther.'' The mystic hour of midnight had crime with its mysterious solemnity. Within Mi. Clay's mansion all was hushed. There was no light burning save in the` chamber of the dying Netta. Netts was calmly sleeping. The hectic glow that had flushed her cheek had utterly died away, and it was as snowy white as the pillow on which it rested. Her eyes were shut and her golden curls lay in beautiful confusion over the pillows, and her tiny hands were clasped above her head. The father's trembling lin gers lay on the pulses of one small wrist, and the doctor's on the other. Can she live, doc tor ? eagerly asked the father. She is waking now,' said the doctor. Slowly the large blue eyes unclosed their light was as serene as the azure of an uncloud ed summer sky, and as they sought her father. a seraphic smile wreathed lice lips, and the childish face shone as if angel wings were shad owing it with their divine presence. Then she said, ' I have been'away, have'nt T, papa?' No Netta' was the reply, ' you bave been on the bed, and your own papa has been watch ing beside you.' But I have been awa3;,' she said earnestly ; It was so very bright, beautiful place, where I heard sweet, low voices, and they whispered to me that it was the city of Light, where there never was any clouds or storms, and there was a long, wide golden river there, a river of flow ing gold, and beautiful trees rose by it, and voices, sweet as the flow of 'the river's waves, whiiipered that they were the trees of Life.— And I saw the angels, papa, and they wore white, and they had crowns of sunlight and golden harps, with which they made music.— And I Saw mamma. and she asked me, to come and live in the city of Light with her. I may go, may I not papa? Larth is dark with NUMBER 43 clouds and cold with storms. You will not bid we slay, will - you ? The city is warm and bright forever, papa,' and Netta's eyes were gloriously bright, and her face glowed with an unearthly beauty, and strength was hers even as if angel arms upheld her. Then Doclor P— whispered- 1 It is the wondrous beauty of 'death.' . All the earthly sounds were hushed, the fath er gazed upon his child and murmured, It is the angel beauty. Heaven's gates arc opening, and the glorious light bursts out in brilliant floods, shining down upon my child, lighting up the Valley and Shadow of Death.' Then earth thoughts came, and bending over and kiss ing Netta's half parted lips, he said, Is the city so • beautiful that Netta must need go away and leave her papa amid the cold tempests of earth ?' Then Septa's arms folded him in soft em brace, and she said, Papa, I must go. The angels are unfurling their wings for flight' and t hey whisper. Net ta, come,' I must go, papa ; mamma is beckoning and I must not linger.— Do you not hear the rustling of the angel's wings that aro to bear me away. Mamma is by the gate—good bye, papa, papa,' and the little golden head dropped on his bosom, the in tensely brilliant eyes shut, the long lashes lay motionless on the marble cheeks, and the arms loosened their clasp about the father's neck. Netta was dead. In the mysterious mid night the meek spirit of the motherless girl flew up from the dim stormy earth, and the angels with starry wings bore her through the Eden gates in the city of light ; and she shall go no more out forever. That night Mr. Clay spoke stern word; to Clara 40 Lena, and sent them 'back to old hotne ; and soon a divorce would part them for6 - er. And those guilty ones, upon whose soul the blood of the Motherless Girl rested, could not complain, for the judgment was The next day tender, careful hands robed Netta in spotless white, and strewed pale, scented blossoms and green leaveii in her coflin. and after a holy sermon the lone father bore her away from the noisy, lusty city, into the green, blooming country, and buried her by her moth er's grave, planted a moss rose by the white marble slab on which the description is : • The la Clay, _AGED TWELVE YE \ RS, WE LOVED lIER AND SUE DIED. Ile wet the sal with tears, and crc the flow ers of another summer lit np earth with their colored radiance, lie was away in the distant west. His Nettrt sleeps there in the quiet country •aye, and the blue birds sing in the locust above her grave ; and the moss rose blooms on the green sods which lay on her coffin, the golden sunlight sleeps in its pink blossoms. the brook's quiet waters gush near her, and the mournful cadences hum a low dirge for the Motherle . ss (Ad who sleeps on its'shores. The Steel► of Plants. The way in which sleep is shown in. the veg etable kingdom, is infinitely more variable than among animals. : Man throws himself postrate sonmk inds of monkeys lie on their shies ; the camel places its head between its forelegs : and birds roost with, their he;**beneaththe wing. Beynml these arc few remarkable differences. But in plants there is no end to the curious and beautiful diversity which rewards the seeker in nature's mysteries. Some plants droop their leaves at night, the flat part becoming flaccid and pendulous. Others, of the kind called " compound," as clover and vetches close tlmir leaflets together in pairs, and occasionally , the whole leaf drops at the same time. The three leaflets of clover bring their faces to the outside, and so form a little triangular pyra mid, whose apex is the point of union between the leaflets and their stalls. Lupines, which have leaves resembling a seven fingtired hand without a palm, fold together like a lady's half closed parasol. Chickweed raises its leaves so as to embrace the stem : and some species of lotus,.besides many of its elegant family, the Leguminosm, bring them together in such a .way as to protect the young flower buds and the immature seed vessels from the chilly air of night.. These are only a few out of the many Cases which could be instanced of change of po sition in leaves, whilst in flowers there seems to be no limit to variation. ' The greater part shut the petals at night, the stalks declining one side ; but there arc some which roll their petals back, and curl them up like 'lnitiative volutes. The Sleep of such plants is probably unaccompanied by any external change. The same may be said of Campanalas, and other bell-shaped flowers of Crnci fern-, it should have been observed, are remarkably careless of re pose. Their sleep never appears sound or even constant, for litany successive nights, theyseem restless, and in the morning always look dozy and uncomfortable. When flowers are over blown, or the plant if an annual is near its de cay, the phenomena of sleep are very consider ably diminished. In fact, they are only seen in perfection when the growing poweri of the plant i are in full energy. Deciduous trees— that s, such as cast their leaves in autumn— are in a sort of tranco in the winter months.— flowers, too, lose their sensibilities altogether, when the period of fertilization is passed, as may readily be seen by inspecting a field of diiisies• early in the morning, before the dew is off the grass. The overblown one will be found wide . open ; those in the younger stages all crimson , tipped and sound asleep. RED HAIR. 'rife young men and women of the- present' , age seem-to think that red hair is an atnbomi nation in the sight of the public ; and, conse quently, endeavor by all manner of means•to' change the color to a beautiful Chesnut brown or' black. Even some portions of the press have standing jokes on " carroty. polls ;" on the' stage, if they wish to introduce a very funny character, they put a red wig on him. This . is not as it should be, because we have seen' some red hair that was really beautiful, and in• ancient times nations who were the most pol ished, the most civilized, and the most skilful in the fine arts ; were passionately fond of red hair. The Gauls, ancestors of the modern French, had the same preference, though the color is-- now in disrepute by their descendants, who like; '— black hair. A taste for red hair, however,• • still exists in extensive regions. The turks, for example, are fond of women who have red hair, while the modern Persians give a strong aversion to it. The inhabitants of Tripoli, who probably learned from the Turks,' have their hair a red tinge by the aid of vermillion. The women of Szinde and Decan are fond of dying their hair red and yellow as the ROmans did, in imitation'of German hair. There is among Europeans generally a strong dislike to red hair, but in Spain, red hair is admired almost to adoration, and there is a story told of one of our naval commanders, who luxuriated in . fiery locks, being idolized and caressed in con sequence by the Spanish women, and looked upon as a perfect Adonis. Wash Your own Laces. The difficulty of getting laces l washcd especi ally out of a great city, is very great. Every lady, therefore, should know how to wash her own thread lace. If any fair lady is ignorant of his art ,we can teach her in a very few words. Let her first rip oh the lace, carefully pick out the loose bits of thread, and roll the lace very smoothly and securely round a clean black bot tle previously covered with old white linen sewed tightly on. Tack each end of thelace with a needle and thread, to keep it smooth, and be careful in wrapping not to crumble or fold in any of the scollops or pearlings. After it is on the bottle, take some of the best sweet oil, and with a clean sponge wet the lace thoroughly to • the inmost folds. Have ready, in a wash-kettle a strong lather of clear water and white castilo soap. Fill the bottle with cold water to pre vent its bursting; cork it well, and stand it upright in the suds, with a string round tho n.mk secured to the cars or handle of thelettle, to prevent its knocking about and breaking while over the fire. Let it boil in the suds for an hour or more, till the lace is clean and white all through. Drain off the suds and dry it on the hot tle, and roll it around a wide ribbon block or lay it in long folds, place it within a sheet of white paper, and press it. in a large book for for a few days. OLD BACIIELORS. Is there an individual belonging to this dried ip institution, that can lay his hand on his heart and say he is answering the end for which he was got up ?- Is there one of them that sup poses lie was created for the purpose of using up wt &len manufactures, tobacco, cigars, tai lors, and liverystable keepers ? IC he does, he is soulless'; and when he dies will simp ly be annihilated ; rot into dust, and turn in time as part of the terra .firma of a cabbage orchard. Man's destiny is to govern—to rule —to command—to add to the numerical strength of his district, as much as circumstan ces and good health will allow him, and it is an undisputed faddiat every great man has in the,-midst of his greatness, a part of his time de voted to the culture of a wife, to the study of medicine, as fay as the disease of young children are concerned. So, ye bachelors—ye that have not withered into sapless, sinewless, hopeless sellishness—brush up the charms of mind and person that arc wasting and fading, and make one grand attempt for blissful days, comforta— ble nights, posterity, and an honest future. Put Two Together. A Vermont editor advises the young ladies in' those diggings--and we see no reason for its not applying, elsewhere--to abandon the " good old way" of doing up matters in the courting line, and recommends this summary method: When you have got a man to the sticking point—that is, when he proposes-dtn't turn away.your head, or affect to 1)111511, or refer to l'a, or ask him for more time—all these tricks arc understood now—but just look him right in the face; give him a hearty smack, and tell him to go, without delay and order the furni-• OE r - r" How do you get along with your arith• tactic?" asked a father of bislittlo boys. " have ciphered through addition, paßition, sub traction. abomination, justification, ballucin tion; damnation, amputation, creation and' adoption: He'd do for an engineer, on a " Short lino . Railroad." ['Young ladies nowqt-days, When they am• preparing for a walk, ought not to keep their• lovei.s waiting as long as they used to do, fore they have only to put their bonnets half on. A wag, seeing a lady at a party with' a.. very low•necked dress and bs.'re arms, expressed' his admiration.by saying that she out-stripped. the whole party.
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