" 111 rtl " 1 jrjrr —-—■ j ————— THE STAR OF THE NORTH. 1y Www * GHaor*.] - , „ ~ , VOLUME 2. TUB STAR OP THE NORTH U published 'every Thursday Morning, by Weaver & Gilmore. OFFICE—Up stairs in the New Bride building on the south side of Main street, third square below Market. ' TERMS :—Two Dollars ner annum, if paid within Bis months from the time of subscri bing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription received for a less period than six months: no discon tinuance permitted until all arrearages are ,pail, unless ayjie option-of the editors. AuvKßTisEMlraTs not exceeding one square, -will be inserted three times for one dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional insertion. A liberal discount will be made to those who ad vertise by the year. THE ANNOY ER. • BY THE ML'SI. [The original bf this, everybody knows. The parody, from Holden's Magazine, is un surpassed in its way-3 as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not over. IShelley. LOVE knoweth everybody's house, And every human haunt, And comes, unlßdden everywhere, Like people we don't vyant. The turnpike roads, and litile creeks, Are written with Love's words, And you hear his voice like a thousand bricks In the lowing of the herds. He peeps into the teamster's heart, from his Buena Vista's rim, And the cracking whips of many men Can nfver frighten trim. He'll come to his cart in the weary night, When he's dreaming ot his cratt; # And he'll flgpl to his eye in tho morning light, Like a man on a river craft. Ho !iears%e sound of the cooper'? adz, And makes him too his dupe For he sighs in his ear from the shaving pile As he hammers 011 the hoop. The lit le girl, the beardless boy, The men that walk or stand, lie will get them all in his mighty arms l.ike the grasp of your very hand. The shoemaker bangs above his bench, And ponders his shining awl, , For Love is under the lap-stone hid, And a spell is on the wall. It heaves the sole where he drives the pegs, And speakes in every blow, 'Till the last is dropped from bis crafty hand, And his foot hangs bare below. He blurs the prints which the shopmen sell, And intrudes on the hatter's trade, And profanes the hostler's stable-yard In the shape of the chambermaid. In the darkest night, and the bright daylight, Knowing that he can win. In every home of good-looking folks Will human Love come in. MY FIRST DISSIPATION. A LEAF FROM THE EXPERIENCE OF DAVID COP PERITELD, THE YOUNGER. I began by being singularly cheerful and light-hearted; all sorts of half-forgotten things to talk about, came rushing into my mind, and made me hold forth in a most un wonted manner. I laughed heartily at my own jokes, and everybody else's; called Steerforth to order for not passing the wine; made several engagements to go to Oxford; announced that I meant to have a dinner party exactly like that, once a week until further notice; and madly took so much snuff out of Granger's box, that I was ob liged to go into the pantry, and have a pri " vate fit of sneezing ten minufes long. I went on, by passing the wine faster and , faster yet. and continually starting up with ff corkcscrew to open more wine, long before any was needed. I proposed Steerforth's health. I said he was my dearest friend, the protector of my boyhood, and the com panion of my prime. I said 1 was delighted to propose his health. I said I owed him more obligations than I could over pay, and held him in higher estimation than I dould ever express. I finished by saying, "I'll give you Steerforth! God bless him I Hurrah !" We give liiin three times three, and another, and a good une to finish with. I broke my glass in going around the table to shake hands with him, and I said, (in two words,) "Steerforth you aro the guiding star of my existence. I went on, by finding suddenly ibat some body was in lite middle of a song.—Mark ham was the singer, and he sang, "When the heart of man is depressed with carc." lie said, when he had sung it, he would give us "Woman !" I took objection to that, and I couldn't allow it. 1 said it was not a res pectful way of proposing the toast, and I would never permit that toast to be drunk in my house otherwise than "Tho Ladies!" I was very high with him, mainly, 1 think, bb'b*use 1 saw Steerforth and Granger laugh ing ai me—or at him—or at both. Ha said a man was not to be dictated to. I said a man tcae. He said a man was not to be in sulted, then. I said he was right there— never under my roof, where the Lares were sacred, and the laws of hospitality para mount. He said it was no derogation from a man's dignity to confess that I was a dev ilish good fellow. I'instantly proposed his health. Somebody was smoking. We were all smoking. I was smoking and trying to sup press a raising tendency to shudder.—Sieer forth had made a speech about mo, in tho coarse of which I had been affected almost to tears, t returned thanks and hoped the present company would dine with me to •norrow, and the day' after—each day at five o'clock, that we might enjoy the pleasures of conversation and society through a long e veiling I fell called upon to propose Miss Betsey Trotwood, the beet of her sex!" iSmTMSBTJfa?,'TtoLUMBfA COUttTYIVAT THURSDAY, MAY 2, 1850. . * . Somebody vwtsleaning out of my bed room window', refreshing his forehead a gainst the cool stone of the parapet, and fee ling the air upon his face. It was myself I was addressing myself as "Copperfield,'' and saying, "Why did you try to smoke? You might have known you couldn't do it." Now, somebody was unsteadily contempla ting his features in the looking-glass. That was 1 too. I waa very pale in the looking glass ; my eyes had a vacant appearance' and my hair—only my hair—nothing else looked drunk. | Somebody said to me, "Let us go to the theatre, Copperfield?" There was no bed room before me, but again the jingling table covered with glasses; the lamp; Granger on my right hand, Markham on my left, end Steerforth opposite—all sitting in a mist, and u long way off. The theatre? To be sure. The very thing. Come along! But they must excuse me if I saw everybody out first, and turned the lamp off—in casfi of fire. Owing to some confusion in tho dark, the door was gone. I was feeling for it in the window curtains, when Steerforth, laughing, took me by the arm and led me out. We went down-stairs, one behind another. Near the bottom, somebody fell, and rolled down. Somebody said it was Copperfield. I was angry at that false report, and, finding myself on my back in the passage, I oegan to think there might be some foundation for it. A very foggy night, with great rings round the lamps in the streets. There was an in distinct talk of its being wet. I considered it frosty. Steerforth dusted me under a lamp-post, and put my hat in shape, which somebody produced from somewhere in a most extraordinary manner, for I hadn't had it on befote.—Sleeiforth then said, "You are all right, Copperfield, are you not ?" and I told him "Never better." A man, sitting in a pigeon-hole place, looked out of the fog, and took money from somebody inquiring if I was one of the gen tlemen paid for, and appearing rather doubt ful (as I remembenn the glimpse I had of him,) whether to take the money for me or not. Shortly afterwards, we were very nigh up in a very hot theatre, looking dowr. into a large pit, that seemed to me to smoke; the people with whom it was crammed were so indistinct. There was a great stage, 100, looking vory clean and smooth after the streets; and there were people upon it, talk about something or other, but not at all in telligibly. Thoro was an wtbttnilance of bright lights, and there was music, and there were ladies down in the boxed, and I don't know what more. The whole building look ed to me as if it were learning to swim; it conducted itself in such an unaccountable manner, when I tried to steady it. On somebody's motion, wo resoled to go down stairs to the dtes6-boxes where the la dies were. A gentleman lounging, full-dres sed, on a sofa, with an opera-glass in his hand, passed before my view, and also my own figure at full length in a glass. Then I was being ushered in one of these boxes, and found myself saying something as I sat down, and people about me saying "Silence!" to somebody, and ladies casting indingnant glances at me, and—what! yes ! —Agnes, sitting on the seat before me, in the same box, with a lady and gentleman besike her, whom I didn't know. I see her face now, better than I did then, I dare say, with its in deliable look of regret and wonder turned upou me. , "Agnes!" I said thickly, "Lorblessmer! Agnes!" "Hush! Pray!" she answered, I could not conceive why. "You disturb the com pany. Look at the stage." I tried, on her injunction, to fix it, and to heat something of what wasgoingon there, but quite in rain. I looked at her again by and-by, and saw her shrink into her corner, and put her hand to her forehead! "Agnes !" I said, "I'm afraid you'renor welL" "Yes, yes. Do not mind me, Trotwood," she returned. "Are you going away soon ?" "Amigoarawaysoon J" I repeateJ. "Yes." I had a stupid inleniion of replying that I was going to wait, to hand her down stairs. I suppose I expressed it, some how; for af ter she had looked at me attentively for a lit tle while, she appeared to understai d! aqjl replied in a low tone: "1 know you will do as I ask you, if I tell you lam very earnest in it. Go away now, Trotwood, for my sake, ana ask your friends to take you home." Sho had so fur improved me, for the time, that though I was angry with her, I felt a sharned, and with a short "Goori!" (which 1 intended for "Good night!") got up and went away. They followed, and I stepped at once out of the box-door into my bed room, where only Steerforth was with me, helping me to undress, and where I was by turns telling him that Agnes was my sister, and adjuring him to bring the cork-screw, that I might open another bottle of wine. How somebody lying in my bed, lay say ing and going all this over again, atcrosspur poses, in afeveiish dream all night—the bed a rocking sea that was never still! How, as that somebody slowly settled down into my gelf, did 1 begin to parch, and feel as if my outer covering of skin were a hard board; my tougue the bottom of an empty kettle, fttrred with long service, and burning up o ver a slow fire, the palms of my hands, hot plates of metal, which no ice could cool! But the agony of mind, the remorse, and shame I felt, when I became conscious next day ! My honor of having committed thou sand offences I had foigotten, and which nothing could ever expiate—my recollection of that indeliable look which Agnes had giv en me—the torturing, impossibility of com municating with hei, not knowing, beast that I was, how she came to be in London, or where she stayed—my disgust at the very sight of the room where the revel had been held—my racking head—the smell of smoke the sight of glasses, the impossibility of go ing out, or even getting up! Oh, what a day it was ! THE MAJOR. We wore much amused the other day with the Major's story of his first adventure in jewelry. In eue time the Mayjor got marr ed,as all young folks are bound to do, and, in the course of time, he found himself in New Orleans with an extra hundred dollars in his pocket. Determined to do things up handsomely in the way of presenting hie wife with some costly presents, he marched into a jewelry store, resolved to spend thirty or forty dollars for trinkets, under the delusion that a sum so enormous would buy "everything and more too." .The very attentive clerk waited on his summons, and handed out n variety of the "low priced," varying from one dollar to fif ty- The Major examined the assortment with a critical eye, felt of his forty dollars with a grandiloquent air, and ordered somethingex pensive, fancying that it would reach as high as three tens. ' The clerk placed upon a glass case two morrocco-covered boxes, which upon being opened, presented a variety of necklaces and finger rings. The Major eyed the collection in a very critical manner, and said that he would take the largest box, demanding the price while pulling out his wallet. "You can have," said the clerk, with sol emiy, "that box for ten thousand dollars!" Internally the Major fell astonished Out side he was as cool as a cucumber—the price had gone "overhis pile" and his ex pectations, just nine thousand nino hundred and seventy-five dollars. With a sang froid that sunk into the heart of the clerk, he said, "Is that the highest priced jewelry you have in Your store ?" The clerk said, "it was just then." "Well, drawled the Major, waving Ilia hat somewhat in the stylo of JuHus Cmsar, "this don't cost enough to suit me," and with a swing of grandeur he left the store. The Trials of Married Life. We have a friend—an excellent husband and doting father—who came into our office the other day looking rather sleepy. "What is the matter with you?" we in quired. "Oh—nothing—that is to say," ho replied in a hesitating voice—"babies are some trou ble after all, ain't they ?" Of course wo nodded an indifferent as sent, but could not help asking "how?" "Why the fact is," said our friend, "that little fellow of ours is getting to be very knowing, and will be humored now and then—so I get up occasionally and walk him to sleep—but last night, both wife and self had to carry him alternately, and " two are not required " "Hear me out. You see the child wanted novelty, and so I lighted a candle, and as my wife carried him up and down the room, I walked after her, making all sorts ,of queer manoeuvres with the light." "Well,did that pacify him?" "Why, yes, jafler a fashion. It stopped his crying, but we consumed a whole can dle and tho best portion of the night, before he fell asleep, and the consoquence is I feel wretchedly stale this morning." Now, old bacheler, laugh, if you feel like it, and let this be a caution to you. [City Item ' THE COMMITTEE appointed by tho House to investigate the Galphin claim, is still progres sing in its duties. It is believed that the re port of this committee will render the contin uance ot Mr. Crawford, and all concerned, in the Cabinet an absolute impossibility. It wi 11 be the first, and may God grant it shall be the last, case in which a Cabinet, already condemned by the country has been tried by a committee of the House, nnd expelled from the public service. I-et us watch and pray. —Times. MORE CANDOR THAN COURTESY- A formal, fasionable visitor thus addressed a little girl: "How are my, dear?" "Very well, I thank you,"she replied. The visitor then added, "Now, my dear, you should ask me how I am." The child simply and honestly replied. "I don't want to know." A man was very much intoxicated, was sent to prison. "Why didn't you bail him out?" inquired a bystander. "Bail him out?" exclaimed the other—" you could'nt pump him out." BT S'onder.—Elizabeth Ellis has recover ed 81500 against Alexander Duel, in an ao tion of slander, before the Susquehanna County Court, at Montrose, Pa. ' r ••• .; .. • ■ TnrtN and Right—God and or Country. "PITY HIS FAMILY" A man falls into embarrassments, which ultimately overwhelm him in baukiuptcy or drive him into roguery and critno. He was yesterday respeeted, influential and suppos ed to be affluent, and his family was treat ed and treated themselves accordingly; but to-day-lie is disgraced and steered clear of— without resources or prospects—very likely in prison and exposed to ignominous punish ment. 'Vile wretch' say the million ; 'it is good enough for him, but we must pity his family." —Certainly, we must pity them—pity all who suffer—still more all who sin and suffer- They need pity, and there is no danger, that we shall pity them to much. But the impres sion conveyed of the innocence of the fallen man's family unmerited exposure to want and ignominy, is often very far Irom the truth. In fact, half the men who are loathed as dragging down their families to shame and destitution are really themselves dragged down by those families—driven to bankrupt cy, shame and crime by the thoughtless and basely selfish extravagance of wife and chil dren. Let a man be in the way of receiving a considerable sum of money, and having property in his hands, and his family can rarely be made to comprehend and realize that there is any limits to his abilities to give and spend. Fine dresses and ornaments for wife and children; spend money and broad cloth for hopeful sons—costly parties every now and then, and richer furniture and more of it at all times—these are a few of the blind drains on 'the Governor's means which ate perpetually in action "O, what's a hun dred dollars to a man doing such a business?" is the indignant question in ease of any de mur or remonstrance on his part. Not one of them could bear to disgrace him by earning ad*' ; they couldn't go out shabbily dres sed, for fear his credit would suffer. Thev can't see how a man who gets discounts in Bank need ever be short of money or stingy in using it. All his talk of difficulties or hard limes they regard as customary fables, intended to scimp their drafts on his purse or enhanse their sense of his generosity. When it is so easy to fill up a check, why will he be so hoggish ? Let hint give fifty dollars to any philanthropist object, or inv-.st five hundred, however safely, in any attempt to meliorate the sufferings of the Poor, and they now see clearly that he has hoards of gold, and can just as well give them ail dres. aes jowels as not. Thus the man of means or of business is too often regarded by his family a? a sponge to be squeezed, a goose to be plucked, an orange to be sucked, a spring to bo drank from when thirsty with out at all diminishing its flow. The stuff is there in profusion—the only trouble is to make him give it up. In vain he remonstates—implores—puts down his foot.' He cannot eternally be con tending with those he loves best—he wants quiet at home in order to mature his plans and perfect his operations. If he resists importunity, the pumps aro set a going, and who can stand the April showers of feminine sorrows? He gives away at last and throws down the money demanded, hoping that some great news,by the next steamship, some turn of luck in his business, will make it up to him. Perhaps it does,and he floats on perhaps it don't, and Uiis last feather has bro ken the elephant's back. The end, however near or distant, is morally certain. Treated always as a mine to be opened at will, he fi nally grows desperate and rushes into reck less speculation or blasting crime, and is o verwhelmed wrin. 'Selfish villian !, say the ignorant crowd; ho r could he run | such a career? How we pity his family!' No doubt of it! But if you knew more, per haps you would pity him.— N. Y. Tribune. No You DON'T JUDGE.— Scene in a Court of Justice—Boy witness in case of assault on Mr. Brown. Judge (with dignity) Young man, do you know this Brown ? Boy, (looking roguishly at His Honor and shaking his head) —no yer don't Judge. Judge (indignantly)—what do you mean by that, sir? Ans\vS?*tty question —Do you know this Brown ? Boy, (with a peculiar wink) no yer don't Judge. Judge (in rage)—answer me, i you young villain, or I will commit you for contempt of Court—Do you know this Brown ? Boy, (applying his thumb to the top of his nose and wringglipg misteriously his elon gated fingere)—-yer can't come it Judgo ; I know what yer wafW-yer want me to ask what Brown, and then yer goin' to say Brown Stout! No yer don't Judge- A LEFT-HANDED JOU. A good story has been circulating, in New York, says the Sunday Courier, touching Max Maretzek's gloves. This gentleman | being, "very particular in every particular,' had in the course of the season, filled a large basket with the del icaie-fcarul-covering, that were once worn and repudiated.' His atten. dant cost his eyes wistfully on the gloves, and thinking ii a pity they should be thrown away, got permission to have them cleaned. There being so many, he picked out only tho best and the whitest, some sixty, and sent them to the renovator. They came home and looked beautiful. But, alas, they were all for the left hand! He had pickedjout the best, and'consequently left all the right hand gloves, which Max Maretzek .had worn by the energetic use of bis baton. NEVER SAY FAIL.I BT D. C. COLKSWOHTHY. Keep pushing—'lis wiser Than sitting aside, And dreaming and sighing And waiting the tide. In life's earnest battle They only prevail, Who daily march onward And never say fail. With an eye ever open— A tongue that's not dumb, And a heart that will never To sorrow succumb— You'll battle and conquer Though thousands assail; How strong and how mighty; Who never say fail. The spirit of angels Is active, I know, As higher and higher r In glory they go: Methinks on bright pinions From heaven they sail, To cheer and encourage Who never say fail. Ahead then keep pushing, And elbow your way, Unheeding the envious, And asses that bray: All obstacles vanish, All enemies quail, In the might of their wisdom Who never say fail In life's rosy morning, In manhood's firm pride, I.et this be the motto Your footsteps to guide; In storm and in sunshine, Whatever assail, Well onward and conquer, And never suy fail! TIIE DETTING DANDY. The Pennsylvania!! has many a funny thing in its police reports. This is a laughable ex ample: A young gentleman.—with a medium siz ed light brown mustache, and such a suit of clothes as fashionable tailors sometimes fur nish to tneir customers, "on acomodating terms," —that is, on the insecure credit sys tem—came into a hotel in Race street, yes terday afternoon, and after calling for a glass of Madeira, turned to the company and offer ed to bet with any man present, that the ship Susquehanna wouldnot be successfully laun ched next Saturday. This "Barter" not be ing taken up,—he proposed to wager five dollars that Dr. Webster would not be hung. This seemed to be a "stumper" too, for no body accepted the chance. The exqnisite glanced around contemptuously and remark ed : I want to make a bet of some kind. Don't care ad—n what it is. I'll bet any thing from a shilling's worth of segarstofive hundred dollars. Now's bout time, gentle men ; —what do you propose V Sipping a glass of beer in one part of tho bar-room, sat a plain old gentleman who looked like he might J>e a Pennsylvania farmer He set down his glass and addressed the exquisite —"Well Mister, —I'm not in the habit of ma king bets, —but seeing you are anxious about it I dan't if I gratify. So I'll bet you a levy,t worth af sixes that I can pour out a quart of molasses into your hat, and a sol id lump of molasses-candy in two minutes yb the watch.,, "Done!" said the exquisite, taking oil his hat and handing it to the far mer. It was a real FLORENCE hat, a splendid article, that shone like black satin. The old gentleman took the hat, and requsted the bar keeper to send for a quart of molasses; —"the cheap son, at six cents a quart ;—that's the f kind I use in this experiment,', caid he, han ding over six coppers to the bar keeper- The molasses was brought and the old farmer, with u very grave and mysterious counte nance, poured into the dandie's hat while the exquisite took out his watch to note thetimo. Giving the hat two or three shakes, with a Signor Blitz-like adroitness, the experimenter placod it on the table, and stared into it if watching the wonderful progress of solida tion. "Time's up," said the dandy. The old farmer moved the hat. "Hell 1 do be lieve it ain't hardened yet," said he, ho in a tone of expressive disappointment;—l mis sed it some how or other that time, and I suppose I've lost the bet. Bar keeper let the gentleman have the segers,—twelve sixes, mind—and charge 'em iu my bill." D—n the segars,', roared the exquisite, "you've spoiled my hat, that cost me five dollars, and you must pay for it.,, ,'That was'nt in the bargain," mildly answered the old gentle man,—"but I'll let you keep the molasses, — whioh is a little more than we agreed for. And having drained the tenacious fluid from the beaver, as he best could, into a spit box, — the man of mustaches rushed from the plaoe, —his fury not much abated by the sounds of ill-suppressed laughter which followed fhis exit. He made his complaint at the Police Office, but "it appeared that the experiment was tried by his own consent, no damages could be recovered. CF Among hu other high sounding titles, the King of Ava has that of "Lord of twenty four Umbrellas." This looks as if he had prepared himself for a long reign I Count Mahony being once asked by the Pope if he understood French, " Yes, please your holiness," said the honest Hiberian, "if it were spoken in Irish." TUE WOLVES infest the sheep pasture in the vicinity ofStaunton, Va., in droves of 5 to 12, killing 60 sheep in a night, and follow ( persons lo their residence* THE FARMER'S LIFE. Wm. Gilmore Simms, in his "Father Abb ot; or the Homo Tourist," thus beautifully redresents the life of.the farmer: "The principles of agriculture were sim ple exceedingly. That[they might be made so, GOD himself was the great first planter. He wrote its laws, visibly, in the brightest, and lovliest, and most ineligible characters, everywhere, upon the broad bosom liberal earth ; in greenest leaves, in deMta fruites, iu beguiling and balmysflowers! But he does not content himself with this alone. He bestows tho heritage along with the ox ample. He prepares the garden and home before he creates the being who is to poss' ess theln. He fills thern with all those ob jects of sense, and sentiment which aro to supply his moral and physical necessties. Birds sing in tho boughs above, som in the air, and fruits and flowers cover the earth with a glor- to which that of Solo mon in all his magnificence was vain and valuless. To His hand wo owe these fair groves, these tall ranks of majestic trees, these deep forests, these broad plains, cover ed with verdure, and these mighty arterie of of flood and river, which wind among them with the lovliest inequalities, and irrigating them with seasonable fertilizrtion. Thus did the Almighty Planter dedicate the great plan tation to the uses of that various and won drous family which was to follow. His home prepared—supplied with all resources, ador ned with every variety of fruit and flower, and checkered with abundance—man is con ducted within its pleasant lrmits, and ordain ed its cultivator under the very eye and san ction of Heaven. The angels of hehven des cend upon its hills ; GOD himself appears within i'.s valleys at noonday—its groves are instict with life and purity, and the blessed stars rise at night, above the celestial moun tains, to keep watch over its consecrated in terests. Its gorgeous forests, savannas, is levels ol flood and prairie are surrender ed into the hands of the wondrously fa/ored the new orelted heir of Heaven! The bird and the beast aro made his tributaries, and taught to obey him. The fowl summons him at morning to hss labors, and the eve ning chaunt of the nightbird summons him to repose. The ox submits to the voxe; the horse moves at his bidding in the plough and the toils of all are rendered sacred and' successful by the gentle showers and the ge ntal sunshine which deceud from Heaven, to ripen the grain in its season, and to make earth pleasant with its fruits." Making Anger Holes with n Gimblet. "My boy what are you a doing with that gimlet ?"said I to a flaxen haired urchin, who was laboring with all his might at a peice of i board before him. "Trying to make an auger hole," was the I reply, without raising his eyes. Precisely the business of at least two thirds | of the world—this making auger holes with ! a gimlet. Here is young A., who has just escaped from the clerk's desk behind tho counter. He sports his mustachios, his imperial, car ries a rattan, drinks champagne, talks big a bout the profits of banking or shaving notes. He.thinks he is really a great man: but eve ry body around sees that he is only making auger holes with a gimlet. Mr. B. may be as a distinguish ed professor of the gimlet. His father left him a fine farm, free from incumbrance— but ho wouldn't be content.—Speculation in corn and flour arose before him—fortunes were made in a twinkling ; so he sold out —bought largely; dreamed of the riches of Astor and Rothschild, no more work. But at last tho bubble burst. The Irish wouldn't slay Blarved, prices ft 11, and now Mr. B. has found out that it is difficult to make auger holes with a gimlet. Miss C. is a nice pretty girl, and might bo useful, too, for she hits intelligence— but she must be the ton —goes to plays, lounges on sofas, keeps her bed till noon, imagines that she is a belle, disdains labor, forgets to tries to that her father was a mechanic, and all for what ? VVhy, sho is trying to work herself into' the belief that an auger hole can be made with a gimlet. The Prophetic Dew-drop. A delicate child, palo and prematurely wise, was complaining on a hot morning, that the poor dew-drops had been fob hastily snatched away, and not allowed to glitter on the flowers like other happier dew-drops, that live the whole night through, and sparkle in the moonlight, and through the morning on ward to noonday. "The sun," said the ■ child, "has chased thorn away with his heat, { orswallowed them up in his wrath." Soon ' after came rain and a rainbow, whereupon I his father pointed Upwards. "See," said he, | "there stand the daw-drops gloriously reset— I a glittering jewellery—ln the heavens; and j the clownish foot tramples on them no more. By this, my child, thou art taught that what, withers upon earth shall bloom again in hef j ven." Thus the father spoke, and knew | not that he spoke prefiguring words; for soon after, the delicate child, with the morning j brightness of his early wisdom, was exhaled, like a dew-drop, into heaven.— Jean Tail Richter. j A "Gentleman."—' "Tom, stand out of the , way of that gentleman." "How do you i know he is a gentleman?" "Why, he wears a stand-up color and swears!" [Tto JHllan per Anaata. Dutchman avoided (ha duty of a Juryman. A few years since, a Dutch vessel landed at Mobile a goodly number of the inhabi tants of "Sour-krout-dora," one of whom found his way np the Tombigbee, and see ing on its banks an Opening for an enterpris ing Dutchman, landed and built iimself t warehouse. A while alter his natdfsiizalion the Sheriff summoned the aforesaid Dutch man to svrve en the Jury. Dutchy was very anxious to be excused, as the cotton balua were coming in very rapidly, and a rival warehouse was becoming troublesome While the jury, therefore, was beifig ini panncded, he went to Mr. L., a distinguished lawyer, in order to have himself excused. Mr L. informed bim that the Judge would not eseuse him on the plea of attending hie warehouse. "Never mind," says Dutch, "yvm tU dm Judge I vsnt to be excused, and I'll teii him the reason." So when the court convened, Mr. 1,, rose and said—"May it please yourhonot, a juror wishes to be excused." "On what ground, Mr. Li"sayatbo Judge "There he is," says Mr. L; "he .*■ ill pre sent his excuse." While Ihilconversation was taking place, up rose the Dutchman/ "What, sir, is your excuse 1" says tho •Judge. Dutchman—"Snax Snoorks." Judge—"Whatdid you say, sirl" Dutchman—"Snax Snoorks." Judge—"Come nearer, sir ; I cannot hear what you say." Dutchman—Snax Snoorks!" Judge (in great anger)—" Mr. Sheriff, what did you summon this Dutchman for '■ He can neither speak nor understand a word of English." Dutchman—"Snax Snooks!" Judge—"You can lHdvo, sir." Dutchman—"Snax Snoorks!?" Judge (overflowing with ire) —"Mr. She; • iff, take that Dutchman out of tV. court; and,sir, I shall have you fined for a neglect of duty in summoning a man \~ can say nothing but 'Snax Snoorks!' Date.; permitted himself to be carried oat of cor-, uttering Dutch as he went. After getting out of the court house, r n. one who had witnessed the scene asked ' why he did not go when the Judge told h;: "Oh," says Dutch, "Ivos fraid if I unite, stand 'you may go,' de Judge would thi k speak English."— N. Y. Spirit of the Times. A DOCTOR'S JOKE.—A stell known phy-IVI:-.. in a certain city, was very mnch annoyed i . an old lady.- tvho was always sure to act - him in the street, for the purpose of telli g over her ailments. Once she met him wi he was in a great hurry. "Ah! I sou yon ate quite fCehle," Said the doctor, "shut . eyes and show me your tongue." She ti l ed, and the doctor moved off, le&vitn; her stand there for some tims in this ridienh position, to the infinite amusemeut of at! w witnessed the scene. SHREWD.—The Richmond Whig tells s pretty good story of a Virginia negro bo who professed to bo dreaefully alarmed _ the cholera. He took to the woods to avoid it and was there found asleep. Being n- :r why he went to the woods, he said "to pia "But," said the overseer, "how was it yc went lo sleep 1" "Don't know, massa, ex actly,'' responded the negro boy, ''but Is-.. I must have over self!" ty The Telegraph in Russia. —The Jo-.rn desDebats says that the Emperorofßuc- ia - tends to put St. Petersburg in direct com - nication with Berlin and Vienna, by :. of a line of electric telegraph, which pass by Warsaw and Posen, towaulslk'i italsof Germany. It is said that the Rn Government is already entering into tin limiuary negotiations for the execution this undertaking. CP" Professor Webster continues in goo. health and spirits, and daily receives hi meals from Parker's a privilege granted to all prisoners who can pay for it. His spir< uai adviser, Rev. Dr. Putnam, a Unitnrm clergyman from Roxburv, visits him Oe sionnlly in his cell, and his wjtt and daug tars twice a week regularly. TV The last publication of the bans marriage in Massachusetts took place on tl - 2gd—the law requiring that form bavm been abolished. It was in the case ot u black mai, who declared his intention w marry a while woman. Never did an Irishman utter a belter bub than did honest John, who being nskeddy