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PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY HAINES & DIF,TENDERFER AT ONE DO i AR AND - FIFTY CENTS PER ANNUM.
VOLUME X. • .
. • Allentown Pa.;Mareli6, 1856.
, INUMBER
(From the IVilkesharro Iteeord of the Times.)
ALICE LAYTON,
OR, LOVE MD SIEVE ='E.
=I
Oh ! God. what paroxysms of grief must
have baptized her soul in its awful agony.—
Had the wish of Nero been applied to the earth,
she would have exulted in its desecration, only
that she would thereby been robbed of her re
venge.
It: was night. Claire Leslie was alone in the
spacious parlor of her new dwelling, a weary
hearted watcher beside the oaken casement.
The clock tolled forth the mid•nrght hour, and
yet she was alone. Where was 'Gordon Leslie
that his young wife should be awaiting his re
turn at this late hour ?—Alas ! where ? Since
his marriage he had plunged more deeply than
ever in the whirlpool of sin and dissipation.
He had soon wearied of the quiet monotony of
home, and ,now he seldom passed an evening
there.
Why should he slay home. There was no
love existing between himself and Claire, and
though they breathed no word of murmuring,
yet they knew the misery within each others
hearts. Could Claire Leslie look up foully,
and confidingly to her husband, for protection
Mid counsel ? or could I iordon Leslie gaze into
the depths of his wife's sparkling. eye with con
fidence and truth ?—Alas, no ? Those two per
jured beings felt the utter desolation of their
condition in all its bitterness; and yet, they
rushed on wildly towards their ruin. Revenge
was their watchword, and they resolved to sa
tiate themselves in its depths 'till their souls
were relieved by its baptism.
Alas ! what changes a few short months can
create., One year ago would we have believed
the gentle Claire Willis would so soon become
the guilty being we now behold her ? Verily,
we cannot trust our own hearts. Far down
within their bidden depths lurks treachery and
deceit we dream not of. It becomes us to
" watch and pray continually lest we enter into
temp , ation."
It was very beautiful, that calm bright morn
ing in early June. Trains of whiterobed maid
ens, and smiling swains passol up the flowery
lane leading to the little village church on the
green sward. White haired old men came
leaning on the vigorous arm of youth. Middle
nged men and women, and giddy light-hearted
children were there assembled in the little
church awaiting the opening of the drama.—
The village pastor too was there looking calm
and happy surrounded by his numerous flock:
A slight rustle was heard, and Ernest Du
rand and Alice Layton passed up the aisle, and
paused before the holy man of God. Very
happy looked Durand as the tiny trembling
hand was placed within his own. And Alice.
oh ! how gloriously beautiful did she look ar
rayed in the simple white muslin, looped up
front the floor with pure white rosilools. A
veil fastened by a wreath. of tilt! same sweet
buds, confined the dark tresses batik from oil
her brow. A world of happiness beamed from
the liluid depths of her clear blue eyes. .
Alt! radiantly beautiful did she look, and
there was many a gallant in that assembly who
envied Durand the privilege of clasping that
lilt} hand within his own, and breathing such
holy vows at her shrine.
The ceremony was ended, and they knelt in
prayer. The solemn tones. of the minister fell
in measured accents on the ear ; invoking a
blessing to rest on tho.:e young heads. A
hushed stillness reigned in that room, for every
one of that throng felt themselves in the presence
of their God.
The low tones of the minister died away,
when the door was thrown widely open, and a
-tall pale figure advanced on the aisle.
" Ernest Durand," and Gordon Leslie's voice
sounded unnatural and hollow, " Ernest Du
rand thy time has coins ; prepare to meet thy
God ! Alice my revenge is come at last."
With the look of a denion he drew a revolver.
.A quick report rang through that sacred room.
a groan, a stifled sigh, and the good and noble
Durand was no more. A pale stiffened corpse
was left on earth, but in heaven a happy glori
fied spirit was basking in the sun-light of God's
presence.
All this was but the work of a moment, and
ere any one could interfere, that quick report
Tang out again, and Gordon Leslie s guilty per
jured soul was ushered into the presence of its
Judge. A murderer and still more dreadful.
a self murderer, guilty and unrepentent, he had
gone to answer for his many crimes, to meet
the spirit at the tribunal bar. that he had sent
unwarned to an endless eternity.
Months had passed away. Alice Durand sat
nlone in the stillness of her little room. In her
desolate heart lay the blackness of intense dark
ness. Long days of wasting disease, had
wrought a fearful change on her fragile form.
The rose-tint-had left her cheek and the lustre
fled her eye. A spiritual loveliness marked
her whole being, for she had found in the waking
up of that dear life-dream, a precious boon inure
valuable than the richest gems earth can afford.
She had found the grace that passed* under
standing, and she knew that Ernest Durand's
immortal spirit awaited her in heaven. his
spirit presence was always with her to minister
to her grief fraught. soul.
Earth possessed not one charm to woo her to
its tickle pleasures. What were all its giddy
whirling scenes to her, who had loved as only
such spirits as hers can love, and had lost, lost
forever, as far as earthly prospects are con
cerned.
It was a dark stormy day in December, the
heavens were veiled. in leaden clouds, and the
rain swept swiftly along the mountains and
valleys. • But Claire Leslie little heeded the
drenching torrents, that fell-upon her uncovered
head. Backward and forward, through that
silent churchyard her tall ghost-like figure wan-.
dere/ Now kneeling low over Ernest Durand's
quiet grave, clasping the white marble to her
bosom, breathing a wild prayer for death, and,
then away in a distant corner, over the grave
of the suicide, cursing and taunting. But that
heap of dust could not be injured by the curses
of the maniac, for such she was, the light of rea
son had become extinct, and the wild vagaries
of a lunatic taken its place. There was no
resting place for her—not ono bright spOt over
the waste of waters - whereon she might repose
in confidence and trust, froM the awful remorse
that haunted her spirit. She felt that she was
the cause of all : the awful guilt rested on her
heart, and no wonder the light of intellect died
out. Let Ns pause a moment and listen to her
words as she bends above that lowly grave.
" Gordon Leslie, I never loved you, in my
soul I dispised you but I thought revenge
would be sweet: Ernest Durand I worshipped.
and you were his murderer you it was who
caused that life blood to stain the little church,
and mark me, you shall pay the penalty !"
With a hollow laugh, she drew a small
jewelled dagger from her girdle, and whirling
it over her head, thrust it into the air •at the
imaginary form before her. " Ila ! you may
cry for mercy, but it will be in vain. You
murdered him, and I have murdered you."—
Then she turned away, and sought the grave of
Durand, and setting herself he sang iu a low
solemn voice :
" Ernut, I loved thee, but thou wert untrue:
Thy love was as fleeting as the mid-summer dew.
Thy vows were forgottonyott heeded them not,
You left me in sorrow to mourn my sad lot.
You knelt to smother, and left at her shrine
The pledges once giVen end offered at mine.
And 1 wed another. and voived to adore,
When I know that I never could love again more
lie thee, oh, heaven ! even now thy life's bleed
Is crying for revenge before the great God,
But thou art avenged—he has an,wered his guilt,
In Ids heart. I have buried this blade to the buil.
lie erieiffor mercy, but his cries were in vain ;
I laughed at his pleadingl, find mocked at his pain.
I have cursed hint, and left his body so cold,
Nl'here the raven and vulture their wild reveli, bold.
! Ernest. they call me the maniac, now,
They marvel the shadows that cover my brow.
They know not the sorrow that covers my soul,
They know not the guilt that o'er it did roll.
Thou art in heaven, but I cannot go there;
They would nu'er ope' the gate to admit crazy flake
But I see thee, hear thee, I know thou art neat%
I know that thy, spirit is lingering here.''
Claire Leslie's wild song ended, and she
arose from the ground and slowly took her way
towards home, ever, and anon, murmuring wild
unmeaning words.
And this wasted wreck was the once gifted
and brilliant Claire Leslie. Who shall sap
that this was not the retribution of Gal.:—
" Vengeance is mine," saith the Lord, and she
haul not regarded this injunction, and as her re
ward, li,er reason had been taken from licr, and
the proud and gifted woman had become the
wandering senseless maniac.
It. was a bright June morning, the anniver
sary of Alice Dnrand's bridal day, and she sat
within her little room what scenes came up to
her view. But think you she repined, and
passed her time in unavailing woe ? No ! The
midnight of agony had gone by : and the
thonght only of a re-union in heaven with the
departed. But Alice's revery Was suddenly
broken by a soft tap at the door : she hastened
in open it. when Paul Willis handed her a note
and departed, she hastily broke the seal and
read—
"Injured but forgiving Alice
Come to me quickly ! Oh ! do not refuse my
prayer! lam dying, but I cannot go without
your forgiveness. I have bitterly wronged
you, and can you, will you forgive me. I could
not betir to see you the wife of livrand; fur, oh
I loved him so intensely, I sought revenge, but
oh ! God, that, I should be so 'guilty ; but I
cannot write, my eyes grow dim and my limbs
are growing cold.. Haste thee, I pray, to my
side, that I may beg forgiveness ere it be too
late !" CLAIRE.LESLIR.
Alice Durand hastily equipped herself and
started on her journey. There was not one
moment's hesitation no reluctance to enter the
presence of the great destroyer of her life's hap
piness.
Very softly she entered that darkened cham•
her and stood 'in the presence of the dead.--
Yes! Claire Leslie was no more Her reason
had returned on the morning of her death, and
tyilh it a sense of her guilt. Guilty and unre
pentant she had gone to answer for the manner
in which she had spent her life. One request
only had she left behind. and that, to be buried
by the side of Durand: and on that calm
bright morning, they robed her in her death
robes; and softly lowered the coffin beside the
grave of Durand, for Alice would not that the
request of the dead should be unfulfilled. They
placed It low white slab above the grave, and
inscribed thereon--
. " CLAIRE LESLIE—AGED 22.
Thy bli p s or bale we leave with God!"
Reader, should you ever visit the church
yard of old St. Joseph's, pause one moment,
and drop a tear of sympathy over the grave of
the gifted but erring Claire Leslie.
Five years had rolled their wearied round
since the events recorded above. It was in
Italy. A fair girl was resting in the embrace
of death. Those great mild blue eyes Were
softly smoothed over the marble forehead.—
Beautiful, very beautiful, looked Alice Durand
in the calm composure of death, if, the quiet
spiritual loveliness that rested on her counte
nance could be termed death.
Alice had even felt a lingbring intense desire
'to visit Italy. ,Ernest Durand had dwelt on its
beauties 'till she had almost fancied herself in
the spirit land. It had been the home of some
Of the great spirits of her admiration. It was
the land of poetry and romance. But she had
only reached its sunny bowers to find a grave.
The death summons found her ready, and
her weary wings were gladly girded for their
joyful flight. Her spirit had joined with the
loved one in heaven.
They laid her down to rest, far from her na
tive land, and the hallowed graVe, within the
churchyard of old St. Joseph's. Among stran
gers in a strange land her last farewell had been
breathed, but her soul went just as joyfully to
rest in the Presence of the loved one in heaven.
Reader is my story sad ? Aye, you. would
not call it too sad could you lift the veil and
read the history of the hearts beating around
you. There is many a life drama being en
acted around us, as sad as this.
And now farewell. The curtains of night
are gathering around, and the azure vaults are
thickly gemmed with stars, admonishing me to
seek repose ; the day-light rays have faded all,
and so dear readers, again good night.
WRITE OFTEN
Cut out the following and place it in the next letter
you write to a dear friend. A moro appropriate poem
for ouch eer vice was never written.
Write to me very erten,
IVrite to too very soon,
Letters to me are dearer
Than the loveliest flowers in June;
They are affeetion':i tenches,
Lighting of friendship's hunt.,
Flitting around the hearLstringe,
Like lire-flies in the dump.
Write to the in the joyous morn,
Or lit the Ouse of evening,
When till the day is gone.
Then While the t•turs tire braining
bright en the until , slit',
When thro' the fading forreht,
Cold the wild wind sigh. •
ltraw up thy little table,
Clt,e to the fire, and write: .
Write to Inc M,Oll in the morning,
writo to me late ut night.
11 . i
.10 1110 eery
LettcrA nye links that hind
Truthful to enell ether,
Fettering mind to mind,
(..living to kindly Spirits
Lusting nod true delight.
If ye would Strengthen friendAtip
sever forget to write.
(Front the Cincinnati Counnerciul.)
The 'Devotion of a iVith
One of the most remarkable instances on re
cord of the unfaltering devotion of a wife to her
husband, under the most trying and dreadful
circumstances, is given in the history of the
Monroe tragedy, in Coles county, Illinois. A.
Monrre killed his father-in-law—Ellington
--in a field, in which Ellington struck the first
blow. Public opinion was so savage against
Monroe that the Court, and even the attorneys
for the defence were overawed, and a change of
venue, which was begged by the prisoner, was
not obtained. The attorney of Monroe feared
to apply for it, apprehending murderous de-.
signs. on the part of the people.' The trial pro
ceeded and the Jury did not dare to find the
prisoner guilty of anything but murder in the
first degree, and he was sentenced to be hanged, ,
The Governor impressed that something was
Wrong in the case, granted a respite of ninety
days, and the mob broke into the jail and drag
ged Monroe out and hung him. Amid all this
terrible storm of infuriated public opinion,
though his wife's father was the victim in whose
name the cry for vengeance was raised, and he
had been a fast man, having drank hard and
kept bad company, Monroe retained the love of
his "Nannie" to the .last. When he had been
murdered by the mob, she begged for his re
mains, had them transported to a burial place,
a few miles above Newport on the Licking riv.-
er; and there, with her child in her artns, stood
the only mourner by his pave. Three days
before his' death she wrote to her husband as
follows. The person whom she mentions as
Pole, is N. b. Aulich, a distant relative of her
husband :
CumuxsTox. Feb, 12th, 1850
My EyFut DEAR HUSBAND :—llow miserable
you must be. My very heart aches for you.—
I have not given up yet—l still have hope. I
sin now at Mr. Bail's with Pole and Ma. Pole
has been a brother to me and a friend to you.
I intend to make his home my home, wherever
that may hope a good way from here—
the farther from here the better. I mth/ rather
die to-night, than to stay here among my ene
mies, for those who tire your enemies are mine,
and your friends are my friends.
As soon as I can make arrangethents and get
the means, I will leave this town, never to re
turn again. May is well. Farewell, but I
hope not forever.
/subscribe myself your true and devoted wife,
NANNIE MONROE,
And proud to own it.
EWIDAY NOT AN UNLUCKY D.Y.
This day, which has been long superstitious
ly regarded as a day of ill-omen, has been an
eventful one in' American history. On Friday
Christopher Columbus sailed on hik great voy-
age of discovery . ; on Friday he, though un
known
to himself, discovered the Continent of
America. On Friday, Henry 111., of Eng
land,
gave to John Cabot his commission, which
led to the discovery of North ! Amerida. On
Friday, St. Augustine, the oldest town in the !
United States, was founded. On Friday, the;
May Flower, with the Pilgrims, made the har- ;
bur of Princctowh, and on the same day they
signed that august compact, the forerunner of
the present Constitution. On Friday, George
Washington was born. On Friday. Bunker
11111 was siezed and fortified. On Friday, the
surrender of Saratoga was, made ; and on Fri
thty, the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown
occurred. the crowning glory of the American
arms. On Friday, the motion was made in
Congress that the United Colonies were, and of
rig4ought to be, free and independent. Amer
icans surely need not be afraid of Friday.
a'Afits. PARTINGTON says that she did not
marry her second husband because she loved
the male sex, but just because he was the size
of her first protector, and would come so good
to wear his old clothes out !
HOW THEY MAKE GUNPOWDER.
A correspondent of the New York Tribune,
in a letter from Wilmington, Delaware, gives
the following interesting sketch of the process'
by which powder is made at the celebrated
mills of Du Pont, in that city : Of course, of the
details of the business of the Messrs. Du Pont,
even if known to me, I could not make mention,
unless by their consent; but the : process of
manufacture is in reality no secret ; every book
of chemistry treating of it to some extent. All
know that gunpowder is composed of saltpe
tre, brimstone and charcoal,—though but few
have any idea of the .trouble and labor gone
through to have these materials of a proper
quality. The saltpetre as received at the
yards, has the appearance of dirty coarse salt,
filled with a short fibrous matter: by a process
of refining, 2 or 3 tittles repeated, it assumes
the appearance somewhat of fine table salt, in
which state it is fit for the powder mill. Great
care is also taken to have 'the sulphur pure.
But the most labor and forethought seems to be'
necessary in procuring the charcoal, which is
made of the willow and poplar, the former be-'
ing used for the best kinds of powder.
To procure suppliv of these woods, the pro-
prietors set out yearly,- in every nook and cor
ner, trees, which aro hewn down every three
years, and the branches are converted into
charcoal. This method of procuring the wood
gives a singular appearance to the country ; for
in many places alongside the roads, or by the '
streams, may be seen old tree trunks standing
but little higher than a man's head, and topped
only by a bunch of small branches. I saw
some trunks that appeared to be forty or fifty '
years old, without a limb bigger than my wrist.
The mill buildings in which the materials are
ground and mixed, are scattered along the t
banks of the stream, each containing a mill.
They are built of stone on three sides, with hea-1
vy walls strengthened with piers ; the other
side facing the stream, is of wood, and the roof I
also slopes toward the stream.
The plan of construction is to lessen the
damage from explosions ; for, should an explo
sion take place, the force would be diverted to
ward the stream. The mills consist of two
heavy iron rollers on wheels, movinig in a
trough. I saw a pair, each of which weighed
15,000 pounds—about seven tons. The mate
rials
being well mixed up and pulverized in
these mills, is slightly moistened, when it is
pressed into cakes, till in becomes almost as
hard as plaster of Paris.
These cakes are then broken up into small
pieces and taken to the granulation mill, an op- I
oration which, on account of its danger, I was
not permitted to see. After granulation the
powder is taken to the glazing mill. Here 000
or 700 pounds are put into a wooden'cask, re
volving moderately fist for twenty-four hours,
there being six or eight of these casks. and close
by each were 700 pounds more, ready for ano
ther charge.
From the glazing mill the powder is taken to
the drying house. Here at the time of my vis
it, were nearly four tons of powder spread out
on trays,—while close by were two furnaces
roaring away at the rate of a tom of coal each,
in twenty four hours.
Danger there was not, yet I could not but
think of Sebastopol and the story of its mines.
Front the drying house the powder is taken to
the packing house, where it is put in barrels or
canisters, and thence taken to a magazine, of
which there are several, built with the same re
gard to non-damage in case of an explosion as
the grinding mills.. While standing in one of
the packing houses, and just as I had given a
kick to a hundred pound keg of powder. intend
ed for his excellency Santa Anna, Mr. Du Pont
called to a man to bring him some powder in a
scoop-shovel, and therein I inspected about a half
a peck of powder, destined to knock out of this
world some enemy of his said excellency--
Great care is exercised, theyards and the build
ings being under the direct and constant su
pervision of the firm, and to such an extent is
this supervision carried, that one of them vis
its the yard every night at one o'clock ; the
discipline is more efficient than in the army or
navy.
BIG GUN
Joe Billings, a romancing Yankee, was ono
evening seated in the bar mom of a country ta
vern in Canada, where were assembled several
countrymen discussing various matters connect
ed with the • pomp and circumstances of war.'
In the course of his remarks, one of them sta
ted that the British Government possessed the
largest cannon in the world—and gave the di
mensions of one he had seen.
Joe's Yankee pride would' not allow him to
let such an assertion pass uneontradicted.
' Poh, gentlemen,' said he. I won't dony
that is a fair sized cannon—but you are a lee
tic mistaken in supposing it to be named in the
swine minute with ono of our Yankee guns
which I saw in Charleston last year, Jupiter
that was a cannon, Why, sir, it was so infer
nal large, that the soldiers were obliged to em
ploy a yoke of oxen to draw the ball in ?'
The duce they were !' exclaimed one of his
hearers, with a smile of triumph, pray can you
tell me how they got the oxen out again
• Why, you fool, returned Joe, ' they unyok
ed 'cm and drove 'em through the touchhole !'
A Sad Warning
A young gentleman who had been educated for
the profession of a dandy, not having the means
to set himself up in business, had turned his
attention to loafing, with considerable ability
as an ,amateur in that line, was found dead, a
short time since, at Gallatin, having evidently
died under particularly shocking circumstances.
In swallowing a lump of molasses candy, the
sticky edible had caught the end of his mous
tache and pulled it down his throat, and a pain
ful death was the consequence, though the jury
could not agree as to whether it was the result
of strangulation, or poison by the nitrate of
silver in the hair dye with which the moustache
was colored.
()7lt is supposed by Dr. Francis that the
first person that had the itch was the Devil—
hence the title " the old Scratch."
Fashionable Women
Fashion kills more women than toil and sor
row. Obedience to Fashion is a greater trans
gression of the laws of woman's nature, a great
er injury to her physical and mental constitu
tion, than the hardships of poverty and neglect.
The slave-woman at her tasks will live and
grow old and
,see two or three generations
of her mistresses fade and pass away. The
washerwoman, with scarce a ray, of hope to
cheer her in her toils, will live to see her fash
ionable sisters all die around her. The kitChen
maid is hearty and strong, when her lady has to
be nursed like a sick baby. It is a sad truth that
Fashion-pampered women are almost worthless
for all the great ends of human life. They
have but little force of character ; they have
still less power of moral will, and quite as little
physical energy. They live for no great pur
pose in life ; they accomplish no worthy ends.
They are only doll-forms in hands of milliners
and servants, to be dressed and fed to order.
They dress nobody ; they feed nobody ; they
instruct nobody ; they bless nobody, and save
nobody. They write no books ; they set no
rich examples of virtue and womanly life. If
they rear children, servants and nurses do it
all, save to conceive and give them birth. And
when reared what are they ? What do they
even amount to, but weaker scions of the old
stock ? Who ever heard of a fashionable wo
man's child exhibiting any virtue of power of
mind for which it became eminent ? Read the
biography of our great and good men and wo
men. Not one of them had a fashionable
mother. They nearly' all sprung from plain,
strong-minded women, who had about as little
to do with Fashion as with the changing
clouds.
MECHANICS.
There never was a doctrine more untrue than
the now, we trust, almost absolete one, derived
from a false distinction of monarchies, that me
chanical professions are menial and beneath the
station of a true gentleman. The truth is, they
are the only professions that have substances
and reality and practical utility. All else seem,
on reflection, to be mere speculation—ideality—
dredming—leather and prunella. The greatest
men in the annals of the world—the men that
have done most to enlighten it and advance the
prosperity of the, human race--have been me
chanics. Its directness of mind—the plain good
sense these pursuits inculcate, which has led to
those immortal discoveries that have enriched
and meliorated the condition of the whole human
race. Name but an Arkwright, a Fulton, a
Watt, a Franklin, a Whitney, eta., and where
among the closet men, the academians, the doc
trinarians, do you find their equals ? True,
Newton, Laplace, Gray, Lussac, etc., have dis
covered great principles, but nothing that com
pares with the usefulness that has come from
the inventions of mechanics' minds. Let the
sickly races of a pampered nobility turn up their
noses at mechanics as they do at merchants.
'lt is to the working men only that the rod' of
empire has been given ; and the revolutions on
the globe from which mechanic inventions of
steam and the. press, and which is hourly ad
vancing with a pace that excites astonishment.
proves incontestibly that the progress of mind,
of human liberty and civilization, are of me
chanics' labor, and indissolubly wedded.
PRINTING
is a glorious art. It is the sun of the moral
world. What would have been our condition
without books or newspapers? The Almiiihty
was a printer from the beginning. Look up at
night at the blazing editorials in the huge sheet
spread over the skies. You may read and read
again, and still learn new thought and brilliant
ideas. Burning stars are types which have
been read and instructed all people and kindred
from the birth of existence to the present hour.
The earth, too, is printed all over. We can
not rend the language of the mountains, the
oceans, trees, and beautiful flowers ? The pen
of the Almighty is traced on them. Is not
printing a glorious art? What art can boast
of greater antiquity ? Who wouldn't be a
printer or an editor, and a working man with
God in interesting, elevating and regenerating
the human family.
Yes, friend, it is a beautillil antique and glo
rious cause, one in which none should be asham
ed to enlist ; ono which should be encouraged,
sustained and reverenced by all. It is a cause
in which some of our greatest and most talent
ed forefathers and patriots, have labored.--
They, through the instrumentality of this great
ind•noble art, the preservative of all arts haye
been enabled to hand down to us traces of the
bold, untiring and successful effort to free us
froth the bonds of tyranny, and serve as bea
cons to allure us on to any greater and noble
deeds.
[JOur devil says that getting in love is some_
what like getting drunk, the more a feller does
it the more he wants to.
nirlt is a good horse that never stumbles,
and agood wife that never grumbles.
The Phlen TlmeN.
In 1637, there were but thirty ploughs in
Massachusetts, and the use of these agricultu
ral implements was not familiar to all the plan
ters. From the annals of Salem it appears,
that in that year it was agreed by the town to.
grant Richardson Hutchinson twenty acres
of land in addition to his share, on condition
that ho " set up ploughing."
1635. A sumptuary act of the General Court
prohibited short sleeves, and required the gar
ments to be lengthened so as to cover the arms
to the wrists, and required reformation in im
moderate great breeches, knots' of ribbon, broad
shoulder bands and tayles, silk rases, double
cults and ruffs.
1639._ For preventing miscarriage of letters,
it is ordered that notice be given that Richard
Fairbanks, his house in Boston, is the place ap
pointed for all letters which are brought front
beyond the seas, or are to be sent thither, are
to be brought unto him, and he is allowed for
every such letter hi : and must answer all
miscarriages through his own neglect in his
kind, provided Butt no man shall be obliged to
bring his letter thither unless lie pleases.
1647. The Court ordered, that if any young
man attempt to address a young woman with
out.the consent of her parents, or in case of
their absence, of the County Court, he shall be
fined .£4 for the first offence, £lO for the second,
and be imprisoned for the third.
1640. Matthew Stanley was tried for draw
ing in the affections of John Tarbox's daughter
without the consent of her parents, convicted\
and fined fees 2s. Od. Three married wo
men were fined ss. each for scolding.
1653. Jonas Fairbanks was tried for wear
ing great boots, but was acquitted.
PO C K lETS.
What about a youngster's dress is he more
proud of than his pockets ? Does his mother
forget to insert a pocket in his apron, she is
quickly reminded of it and obtains no peace un
til the omission is supplied. What mother ever
finished her boy's first pantaloons without a
pocket on either side. And with his legs encas
ed iu the little cloth tubes, as ho struts off,
where are his hands ? Has his mother lost her
thimble, where Gan she find it? Is anything
ever suffered to lie loose on the floor, small
enough to go into his pocket ? And at a later
stage of life, when the world's goods begin to
ntt) ac't his attention, and that decidedly human
nature commences stealing over him, and his
pockets arc larger, and he has more of them,
are they less used ? Let the following exposi
tion answer. A mother, in a neighboring vil
lage, says she emptied her hopeful son's pocket,
the other day, and the following articles were'
brought to light: Sixteen marbles, ono top,
an oyster shell, two pieces of brick, one dough
nut, a piece of curry comb, one paint brush,
three wax ends, a handful of corn, a chisel, two
broken kniveS, a skate strap, three buckles,
one ball, two primers. five hen's eggs, and a
bird's nest.
(Obbli flub er&z.
-. Enjoy the little you have while the fool
is hunting for more.
(0" There is no better looking-glass than an
old true friend.
3J Lau g h at no man for his pug nose—you
can't tell what may •turn up. •
07'' Come in children, out of the wet,' as the
whale said, when he sucked in the little fishes.
r;f'Young men should bear it in mind that
coat tails, cigars, profanity, tall shirt collars
and bluster do not make men.
Young ladies should' also remember that
feathers, furs, dress, sofa lolling, scandalmaking
wearing kids, and talking nonsense do not
make the true woman.
Pa-The story of a man who had a nose so
long that he couldn't blow it without the aid a
gunpowder, is said to be a hoax.
IJ 7.l 3 novoKixn.—To dream you are hugging
an angel; and wake up with the bolster in your
arms.
(a'A fellow "out West," being asked what
made him bald replied that " the gals had pul
led his hair out pulling him into their win
dows."
11:rAn inventive genius intends applying to
patent a machine, which he says, when wound
up and put in motion will- chase 'a hog over a
ten acre field, catch, yoke and ring him, or by
a slight change of gearing, it will chop him into.
sausages, work his bristles into shoo brushes
and manufacture his tail into cork screws! .
(I . lle remember being in a conference meet
ing once, in Yankee ltpd, when, one of the dea
cons came around, asking the people if they
wanted salvatian. .
Near us sat a butcher's boy, nineteen years
old, about as arner,i'tble to salvation as a lamb
in his hands would be to mercy. .
Do you want salvation 7. 4 said the deacon,
looking into his brutal face.
No darn yer--I want Sal Skinner, and the
sexton won't let inc take her out till IIICOLIE2:i
Over.
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