" 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 <i
friend.
"Has your sister got a eon, or is it a daugh
ter V
"Upon my soul, I don't know whether I'm
an unbla or an atinf." -
"My dear Murphy," said an Irishman lo
friend, "why bid you betray that secret I to.
yel"
"Is it betray yon calfiti Sure, when I
found I wasn't able to keep it myself) didn't
I db weH to tell it to some one that coui 1
keep it f''
IST Straw bonnets are again in fashion at
Paris.