THE ST A R or 111 !■ NQB^U
R. W. Wcarar rnprM.ro Trait u< Rrtl--—4 >* hp '" . '
VOLUME *.
THE BTAE OF THE NORTH
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From Ihe New York Tribune.
BY MRS. 11. J. LEWIS.
F LOWERS adown the mountains side
Flowers in cool and shadv dells,
Flowers upon the running tide,
Flowers upon the meadows wide,
Flowers upon the upland swell*.
Flowers adorn the bridal train,
Flowers upon the altar n at,
fx with gentle hands are lain
On the couch ot mortal pain,
Whp their ministry is blest.
Flowers we scatter o'er the dead,
Giving all of light we may
To Ihe glooms around us spread
When the spirit homeward sped,
Leaving nought but lifeless clay.
Plant we flowers above the dead,'
Where the Summer wind and rain
Can their genial influence shed
On the cold and narrow bed,
YVhere the weary ne'er complain.
Flowers, the very smiles of God,
Almost as the sunlight free!
Bloom they where no foot bath trod!
With 'hem, He hath decked the sod
Nor denied them to the sea!
Tor the flowers let joyful praise
Crown the Summer's golden prims:
In the city's dusty ways,?
In the woodland's twilight haz",
Still prolong the grateful chime.
MRS. SCRUGGINS
Moves among the "upper ten** and is in
vited to m "sorry."
'I spose, Mrs. Jones,' said Mrs. Scruggins,
the other evening, 'you heafo as how a old
bach'lor uncle of mine dim! qff not long a
go, and lefi me all his effects. I was very
sorry to hear he'd died; but then it was a
omsotin' thing to one with grateful affliction,
and there's nothin' makes people reve.i nee
the memory of them that's gone so much
as the idea that they left you somethin' to re
member 'em by. I never seed my uncle
but wunst, and then he didn't taka much no
tice of me—and I don't blame him n >w,
when I oum to think what a wild, sassy
minx 1 was in ray younger days. But he
must have been a dear, good soul, or he
would'nt have thought of hid niece way out
here in Sent Louis, and left her all his effecks.
I intend to have a gravestone built to his
memory, and en it {HI have writ: ''Reeled
in memory of her uncle by his inourable
and unconsolable and affectionate niece.'
'Well, arter people heard I had some
property, it's wonderful how excessive pop
lar I got all of a suddent. Feminines as
did'nt descend {o hardly bow to me in the
atree', all at wunst knew me so well! and
shook hands so friendly and wanted to know
where I'd kep myself, and what I'd been a
doiu,' and why I Imd'nt called to see 'em
for suoh a dreadful long time; and all on
'em declared they thought I was livin' in the
country, or they'd had called and seed me
and been right social. Mr. Skinkle, in less
than a week arter the news was herd, told
me that three middle aged bach'lers in
etraighted carcumetances, and four widder
o.-s, with num'rous families, had 'plied to
him lor to be introduced. The 'tother night
I went to the consort for Sent John's Church,
and as me and Mr. Skinkle walked up Co'-
ards the frunt I heard 'em whisperin'
as I walked long—'That's the rich widder;
that's Mrs. Scruggings ;' and some of the
Woid* made purty loud 'sclamations of 'What
nftne figger!' 'how excessively graceful
she walks!' and sich like. Ih course I be
lieved every thing they sed was all humbug;
but Mr. Skinkle sed he'Jno doubt but that
sum on 'em was hi amest, 'cause they was
lookin' at me through gold specs. Its strange
—wonderful strange—how different a person
is treated when they're poor and when they'-
re rich. Even Mr. Skinkle has got more
perliter, and I believe the man's afeard FU
bite him, he keeps at sich a very respecta
ble distaiice; and when I want anything
done, he's in such a terrifieal harry to be of
sarvice that two to one he don't do it right,
or spiles all in tryin' to do it too well. The
'tother evenin'l aes to Mr. Skinkle,
will you jist step up stairs and bring me—'
'Ssrtinly,' ses he, and away he went; and
arter he'd got up stairs, he had to come
down again. Ses he: 'What was it, Mra
Scruggings, you'd be pleased to have?'
Fiddlestick ses I, and—would you b'lieve it
—the man went up stairs in my room to
bunt up a £<Mlelick ! I give him a piece
of jny mind wht.V h 0 cnm own
'lt hadn't bean mote R days arter peo
ple got wind of my bein' a woman of prop
erty, afore I'dxgotiptod a half a dozen m
' venations to d*fc at so-and-so's,
Mis
ausdeh-a-oneia. last week I got a
billet-dux from Mra Wholesale Drygood,
invitin' ma and my friend to a sorry, at their
house. I didn't care much about mixm' in
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA'THURSDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1850. NUMBER 36
kumpany, but I'd heard people talk so much
about sorries that I made up my mind and
go and so I told Mr. Skiukle to make the
preparation, and to have a carriage in wait
in' at the door at 8 o'clock precisely. Well,
when 7 o'clock cum ; I was all ready and
waitin' very anxious to get off. Purty soon
Mr. Skinkle and the carriage cum along, and
I never was so 'stonishedTn my life Jto see
how the dear man was dressed up. He'd
bought himself a new hat, and a new kravat,
which was wound round and round his neck,
so tight that his face was rite red, and I told
him that 1 thought he must be in a chokin
kondishin. He wore a standin' collar, too,
one side of whioh propped up his ear, while
the 'tother hid itself away unddkhis kravat!*
He bought a pair of white kid gloves, which
was too small, and one on 'em had busted
open. Mr. Skinkle sed be know'd they were
too small when he'd got 'em ; but then the j
store-keeper had given his assurance that
they'd stretch. 'And so they did stretoh,
said Mr. Skinkle, 'clear open.' Well, arter
kunsid'rable fixin' up, we at last got started,
and when we arriv'd at Drygood's Louse,
the kumpany had jnst begun comio.' Mrs.
Dry good was very glad to see me she sed,
and consid'rin' I'd never seed her but wunst
afore, she was wonderful affectionate. Ar
ter 1 tuk off my things we went into the par
lor. The fust person I was introduced to
was a Mrs. Broker, one of the most fashion
able feminines of Sent Louis, Mrs. Drygoods
sed. I thought I had seed people with affec
ted manners afore, but Mrs. Broker beat 'em
all. She kept her eyes about half-shet, so
that people might see how Ijng he( eye lash
es was; and she was always a smilin', so
they could see her teeth and obsarve her
dimples. Then she had a lack-a-laisy way
of takin'—a die-away tone of voice, jist for
all like a long sentence was too much for het
lungs.
'Mrs. Screwgins V ses she.
Scruggins, ma'am,' ses I
'Ah'! I beg your pardon, ses she; 'but,
Mrs. Smuggins, are you partial to sorries V
I told her this was the first sorry I'd ever
been to.
•Ah, indeed V ses she ; and then she shet
her eyes and laughed just enough to show
her teeth.
While I was lookin' round takin' observa
tions, Mrs. Drygond cum tu'ards me with a
young feminine, who was the greatest curi
osity I ever seed.—She was very tall and
very slim, and her waist comprised into a
wtmoemn em an ctrcumrewnee.—Her rae*
was dreadfully white and pale, and there
wasn't any more 'tpression in it than their is
I in a brick fence. She looked like she didn't
j oarennthir.' for her. Her name was Miss
Goldsmith, and Mrs. Drygood sed she wns
one of the fust families of Virginny. She
was orful perlite; but Mr. Skinkle Baid, after
wards, that he thought she was payin' her
respects to my fortin'—not me.
■Mr*. Screwgins,' ses Mrs. B.oker, 'are
you acquainted with Miss Goldsmith's
brother, Hector?'
'No,' ses I, 'I ain't.'
'Well, then, I'll introduce him to you;
and with that Mrs. Broker riz up very slow
from her seat, and minced acrost the parlor,
and then cum back agin, followed by a thing
with enugh hair on hia upper lip and head
together, to make a shuck mattress. But
what 'stonished more than ennything was
the Jewelry he had about him. He had a
gold watch, a gold chain, a gold quizzical
glass with a gold chain, four studs with green
sets in his shirt buzzom, And three large gold
rings on his fingers.'
'Mrs. Smuggins,' ses Mra. Broker.
"Mrs. Scruggins, ma'am, ses I
'Excuse me,' ses she : 'but Mrs Skuggins,
allow me to inttoduee to you Mr Hector
Goldsmith.'
'I am very happy in forming the acquain
tance of Mrs. Sowuggin*—l am indeed—a
hem 1 ses Mr. Hectnr; and with that be
bowed two or three times, and flourished
his silk handkercher around at a great rate.
Mr. Hector was perlite to me ; he was 'vewy
pawtial to widows,' he sed, 'raowe pawticu
law to them as was hansum,' I could hard
ly keep from lafflin in the man's face ; and j
I wad orful glad when a yonng feminine, in 1
n pine sack, with corksorew curls, cum skip
pin'up to Mr. Hector.
'Oh, Mr Goldsmith,' ses she, where have
you beon * Come, we want you over yon
der and away she went, followed by Mr.
Hector.
'How exceedingly tasty Mr. Goldsmith
does dress,'lsays Mrs. Broker.
'Mrs. Scruggins,' ses Mr. Bkinkle to me,
in a very excited whisper, 'Mis. Sornggins,'
ses he, 'do you see that feminine with the
changing silk gown, and all that fine lace
todnd her neck f—well, it wasn't more'n a
month ago tinoe her husband made 'sign
ment, and now jist look how she dresses '
'Mr. Skinkle,' ses I, what is a 'signment ?
'Why, you aee,' ses Mr. Skinkle, 'arter a
merchant or a tradesman has been in biz
zinese a long time, arter he's got in debt to
everybody, and after he culminated a good
deal of property with 'totber people's mon
ey, why, then he finds out, all at wunst, that
he's in a tailing koadishun and that it's un
possible for him to pay his debts, so he turns
over all his property to sum friend to keep
for him, and then makes a 'signment of all
his bad debts and old fumifpre over to his
creditors for their satisfaction.'
'And then,' ses I, 'I 'spose he'd tried afore
the Criminua Court, and eent to ihe Peaepo
tontisry ?'
'Ob, no,' sea Mr. Skinkle; 'quite the con
trary j for you'll find \vhen a man is a swin
dler on a laTge scale—when by a 'stens v >
ope ration'he pockets his thousands —people
look up to him, and say he's a cute speota- (
tor, or a email operator in funds; but just lei
a poor man, with a wife, and a house full of
title ones, do ennything that has the leas'
'pearanoe of wrong, and how horrified eve
rybody is, and how willin' they all are to
give a kiok to help him on his road down
hill.'
While Mr. Skinkle wae talkin', I notused
that every body was lookin' at a young fem
inine, who jnst cum in the room, and I heard
Mrs. Broker whisper to Mrs. Commission,
who was sittin' alongside of her, that it was
a outrajus thing—she never heerd on the like
afore. Mr. Rector Goldsmith Was over on
'tother eide of the room, and a lot of ) oung
men and feminines was round him, and they
was whisperin' very fast together, and every
wunst in a while they'd look at the young
'ooinan who just cum in like they was goin'
to eat ber. I didn't notus ennything very
partickler in ihe 'pearance of the young
feminine, that everybody need stare at her
so.
'Miss GoldSmitn,' ses Mrs. Broker, 'ain't
you goin'
'Of course,' ses Miss Goldsmith, looking
as cold as an icicle; '1 can't 'sociate with ev
il/ body'
'l'm surprised at Mrs. Drygood for invitin'
sicli people,' sed a little primpt u J feminine,
whose name was Mrs. Counsellor.
'And so am I,' sed anuther, who soraebod
y called Mrs. Attorney Atlaw.
'Are you goin', Mias Hardware V sed a
feminine jnst behind me.
'To be sure,' sed Mrs. Hardware; mo and
Mrs. Cutl'ry, and Mrs. Grocer, and Mrs. Dr.
Nostrum, and the Misses Drygood, think that
this ain't enny place for us.'
'Mr. Skinkle,' ses I, 'what is the matter V
'Why you see, this is a koetong sorry, and
the're all miffed cause that 'ere young femi
nine over yonder was invited.'
'Who is she ?' ses I ; 'she looks jist as
much like a lady as en yon 'em.'
'So she is,' sed Mr. Skinkle, 'and she's
well edioated, and aa smart as the next one,
but then her huaband'e noihin' but a journey
man mechanic.'
'Mr. Skinkle,' says I 'will you order the
carriage 1'
'You ain't goin' too ?' ses Mr.Skinkle.
'Yes,' ses I, purty loud, 'I am—my hus
band, who's dead and gone, was nothin' but
a mechanic—and this is no, place for bis
widder!' ■
•MirSkir.kle,' ses I, when we'd got safe
to home, 'don'l you ever ask me to go to a
sorry again.'
He said he wouldn't.
tW'i'Tliis hot weather ha 6 made queer
work with Jones' vinegar,' said Sam to uncle
Nathan. 'He ha? four hogsheads on hand,
and he thinks he shall have to get rid of it
the best way he can ; hav'nt you heard a
bout it ?'
' No, I have not heard anything. Wh it
is the matter, what is the trouble with the
vinegar?'
'lt's all sour.'
'Sam you will be the death of somebody
yet'
THX GREATEST ASS IN VENICE. —Two young
princes, the sons of Archduke Charles, of
Austria, had a warm debate in the presence
of no less a'person than the Emperor him
self.—Greatly excited, one said the other:—
"You are the greatest ass in Ventce !' High
ly offended at a quarrel in his presence, the
Emperor interrupted them, saying with in
dignation—"Come, come, young gentlemen,
yon forget that I am present.'
A FAIR HIT.— An exchange says, 'lt' has
been said that, in spite of all the medical
science and system ot the day, a sick min
ister who has a rich congregation, can only
be cured by a voyage to Europe. A singu
lar fact in therapeutics.'
OT Isn't it decidedly aggravating, when
you are about to imp iit the 'cherry
ripe' upon your lady love to have some one
to peep in J Or, after it is did to observe
some one in a corner of the room.
W Speaking of cheap things It costs
but a trifle to get a wife, but dosn't she
sometimes turn out a little dear?
EF 'Pomp, was youeber drunk?'
'No, I was intoxicated with ardent spirits
once and dat'a 'nuff fordis darkie. Heaben
brass yon Csstear, my head felt as if it was
an out house, while all de niggirs in de
world appeared to be splitting wood in it.'
BP 'Julius, do you know de halls ob de
Montezumars f
'Ob course I does, nigga; he's de brudder
ob General Taylor, and was nursed by Sarah
Gordon.'
'Why, how de darkey talks, by and by col
ored men will know as much as the militia.'
HOM. JAMES BUCHANAN.— At the late Dem
ocratic Convention in Venango county, a
resolution was adopted in favor of Mr. Bu
chanan, as the next candidate for President.
CHEAP POSTAGE—A member of Congress
writing to his friends in Ohio, says the cheap
postage reform will succeed the present ses
sion, but that the votes will not be so low as
the ultra friends of the measure desire.
THE SOLDIER'S HETURW.
Seven or eight years ago, I was travelling
between Berwick and Selkirk, and (having
. started at the crowing of the cock, I fiad left
Melrose before four in the afternoon. On ar- I
riving at Abbotsford, I perceived a Highland
soldier, apparently fatigued as myself leaning
upon a walking stick, and gazing intensely
on the fairy palace of the magician, whose
wand since broken, but whose magic stijl re
mains. lam no particular disciple of lava
tor's yet the man carried his soul upon! his
face, and we were friends at the first gMnce.
He wore a plain Highland bonnet, a
coarse gray coat, buttoned to the throaf His
dress bespoke him to belong only to thoranks;
but there was a dignity in bis manner and a
fire, a glowing language, Mjh>? eyes, worthy
of achieftaiu. His height'ra%ht exoeed five
feet nine, and his age be about lirirty." The
traces of manly beauty upon his
cheeks; but the sun of a weauri hemisphere
had tinged them with a sallo r hue, and im
printed untimely furrows.
Our conversation related ch lefly to the clas
sic scenery around us; and ire bad pleas
antly journeyed together for two or three
miles, when we arrived at spittle sequester
ed burial ground by the way Side, near which
there was neither church nor dwelling. Its
low wall was thinly covered with turf, and
we sat down upon it to resti My companion
became silent and meianchbly, and his eyes
wandered anxiously among the graves.
"Here," said he, "sleep sbme of my fath
er's children, who died in infancy.
He picked up a small stone from the ground
and throwing it gently about ten yards,
"That," added he, "is thwvery spot. But
thank God! no grave stone has been raised
during my absence! It is a token 1 shall
find my parents living—and," continued Ije,
with a sigh, "may I also find their love. It is
hard, sir, when the heart ol a parent is turn
ed against his own child."
He dropped his head upon hia breast for a
few moments, and was silent, and hastily
raised his fore finger to his eyes, seemed to
dash away a solitaty tear. Then turning to
me, he eontinued—"You may think, sir,
this is weakness in a soldier; but human
hearts beat beneath a red coat. My father,
whose name is Campbell, and who was
brought from Argleshire while young, is a
wealthy farmer in this neighborhood. Twelve
years ago, I loved a being gentle as the
light of a summer moon. We were chil
dren together, and she gUrw in beauty on
—Y -tgtif, a* the star of erjsnlijg steatn m.->
glory through the twilight. But she was
poor and portionless, the daughter of a mean
shepherd. Our attachment offended my
father. He commanded me to leave her
forever. I could not, and he turned me
from his house. I wandered, I knew not,
and I cared not whither. But I will not de
tain you with my history. In my utmost
need, I met a sergeant of tho forty second
who was then upon the recruittng servics,
and in a few weeks, I joined the regiment
of proud hearts, I was at Brussels when the
invitation to the wolf and the raven rang at
midnight through the streets. It was the
herald of a day of glory and death. There
were thiee Highland regiments of us—three
joined in one—joined in rivalry, in love and
in purpose; and, thank Fate ! I was present
when the Scots Grays, flying to our aid, rais
ed the the electric shout, ' Scotland forever."
—"Scotland forever t" returned opr tartaned
clansmen; "Scotland forevet 1" reverberated
as from the hearts we bad left behind us ;
and "Scotland forever! re-echoed "Victory!"
Heavens 1" added he, starting to his feet, and
grasping his staff, as the enthusiasm of the
past came gushing back upon his soul, "to
have joined in that shout was to live an eter
nity in the vibration of a pendulum !"
In a few moments the animated soul that
gave eloquence to his tongue drew itself
back into the chambers of humanity, and
resuming his seat upon the low wall, he
continued: "I left my old regiment wi h the
prospect or promotion, and have since ser
ved in the West Indies; but I have heard
nothing of my father—nothing of my moth
er—nothing of her I love."
While he was yet speaking, the grave d'g
ger, with a pickaxe and sgade over his shoul
der, entered the ground. He approached
within a few yards of where we eat. He
measured off a narrow piece of earth—it en
circled the little stones which the soldier had
thrown to mark out the burial place of his
family. Convulsion rushed over the features
of my companion; he shivered—he grasped
my arm—his lips quivered—his breathings
became short and loud—the cold sweat trick
led from his temples. He sprang over the
wall—he rushed towards the spot
"Man!'' he exclaimed in agony, "whose
graae is that ?"
"Hoot! awa' wi' ye," said the grave-dig
ger starting back at his manner, "what tia a
way is that to gliff a body! are ye daft ?"
"Answer me," cried the soldier, seizing
his hand, "whose giare—whose grave is
that?"
"Mercy me 1" replied the man of death,
"ye are surely onto' your head—it's an auld
body thoy ca'd Adam Campbell's grave—
now are you anything the wiser for spier
in ?
"My father !" cried my oomrade, as I ap
proached him; his bands togeth
er, ha bent his head upon my shoulder and
wept aloud.
I will not dwell upon the painfil scene.—
During his absence, adversity had given the
fort ones of hie father to the wind, and he had
died in an humble cottage, unlamented and
unnoficed by his friends of hospitality
SSISSEIs
At the request of my fellow-traveller, I ac
companied him to the house of mourning:—
Two or three poor cottagers sat around the
fire. The coffiin, with the lid open, lay a
j cross the table near the window. A few
white hairs fell over the whiter face of the
deceased, which seemed to indicate that he
died from sorrows rather than from age.
The son pressed his lips to his father's cheek.
He groaned in spirit, end was much troub
led. He raised his head in agony, and,
in a voice almost inarticulate with grief, ex
claimed, inquiringly, "My mother?"
The wondering peasants started to their
feet, and, in silence, pointed to a lowly bed.
He hastened forward—he fell on his knees
by the bed side.
"My mother!—O, my mother !" he ex
claimed, "do not yon, too, leave me ? Look
at me—l am your own son—your own Wil
lie ; have you, too, forgot me, mother ?"
She, too, lay upon her death bed, and the
tide of life was fast ebbing ; but the remem
bered voice of her beloved son drove it
back lor a moment. She opened her eypß
—she attempted to raise her feeble hands,
and they fell upon his head. She spoke, but
he alone knew the words that she utter
ed ; they seemed accents of mingled an
guish, of joy, and of blessing. For several
minutes he bent over the bed, and wept
bitterly. He held her withered hand in hia ;
he started ; and, as we approached him, the
hand he held was stiff and lifeless. He
wept no longer—he gazed from the dead
body of his father to that of his mother—
his eyes wandered wildly from one to the
other—he smote his hand upon his brow,
and threw himself upon a chair, while mis
ery transfixed him, as if a thunderbolt had
entered his soul.
I will not give a description of the melan
choly funeral, and the solitary monner. The
farther obsequies were delayed, and the son
laid both his parents in the sa me grave.
Several months passed away before I gain
ed information, respecting the sequel of my
little story; After his parents were laid in
the dust, William Campbell, with a sad and
anxious heart, made inquiries after Jeanie,
the object of bis early affections, to whom
we have alluded. For several weeks his
eeqrch was fruitless; but at length he learr •
ed that property had been left to her father I
by a distant relation, and that be now resi
ded somewhere in Dumfriesshire.
In the same garb which 1 have already
idesoribeJ, the soldier set out cm his journey.
'—With little difficulty he discovered the
h* ii*e A suoh as are I occupied
by the'higher class of farmers. The front
door stood open. He knocked but no one
answered.—He approached along the pas
sage—he heard voices in an apartment on
his right—again he knocked, but was unhee
ded. He entered uninvited. A group was
standing in the middle of the floor, and a
mong them a minister, commencing the
marriage service of the Church of Scotland.
The bride hung her head sorrowfully, and
tears were stealing down her cheeks—she
was his own Jeanie Leslie. The clergyman
paused. The bride'e father stepped forward
angrily, and inquired, "What do ye want
sir?" but instantly recognizing his features,
he seized him by the breast, and in a voice
half choked with passion, continued—"Sor
row tak' ye for a scoundrel! what's brought
ye here—an' the mair especially at a time
like this? Get out o'my house. Sir! I say,
Wills Campbell, get out o' my bouse, 'an
never darken my door again wi' your ne'er
do-well countenance 1"
A sudden shriek followed the mention of
his name, and Jeanie Leslie fell into the arms
of her bridesmaid.
"Peace, Mr Leslie!' said the soldier,
pushing the old man aside, 'since matters
are thus, 1 will only stop to say farewell—for
auld lang syne—you cannot deny me that.'
He passed towrrds the object of his young
love. She spoke not—she moved not—he
took her hand, but she seemed unconscious
of what he did. And, as he again gazed
upon the beautiful countenance, absence be
came as a dream upon her face. The very
language he had acquired during their sepa
ration was laid aside. Nature triumphed
over art. and he addressed her in the accents
in which he had first breathed love, and
woe her heart.
'Jeanie 1' said he, pressing her hand be
tween his, "it's a fair thing; to say FAREWELL,
but at present I maun say it. This is a scene
I never expected to see, for oh, Jeanie ! I
could have trusted to your truth and to your
love, as the farmer trusts to seed lince and to
harvest, and is not disappointed. Oh! Jea
nie, woman ! this is like separating the flesh
from the bones, and burning the marrow!
But ye maun be anither'a now—farewell!
farewell!"
"No !no !—my ain V? illj a | (he exclaim
ed, recovering from the agony of stuperfac
tion -'my hand is still free, and my heart has
been yours—save, Willie! save me!" and
she threw herself into his arms.
The bridegroom looked from one to anoth
er imploring them to commence an attack
upon the intruder, but he looked in vain,"—
The father again seized the old grey coat of
the soldier, and almost rending it in twain,
discovered underneath to the astonished
company, the richly laced uniform of a
British officer. He (trapped the fragment of
the outer garment in wonder, and, at the same
time dropped his wrath, exclaimed, "Mr.
Campbell! or what are ye?—will you ex
plain yourself?"
A few words explain all. The bridegroom
a wealthy, middle aged roan, without a heart
left the house, gnashing h'.s teeth.—Fadley
aa onr military honors are conferred, merit ta
not always overlooked, even in this country,
where money is everything, and the Scottish
soldier had obtained the promotion be de
served. Jeanie's joy was like a dream of ,
heaven. In Afisw weeks she gave her hand
to Capt. Campbell, of his Majesty's——reg
iment of infantry, to whom, long years be
fore, she had given her young heart. '
Taking the Census.
Some rich scenes oceurred in taking the
census, under the late law for that p<irp< se.
The following from an eye-witness, is,one:
'ls the head ol the family at home ?' asks
the enquiring marshal
'There'sthe d- -1 with his book again
for the d'rectory,' shouts a junior of the fam
ily to the maternal head above the stairs,
who presently appears. 'lt is the head of
the family ye want sure ? but last week ye
wanted our names for the d'rectory, an' now
yer after our heads. A free country this,
snr, when one's head is'nt safe. Bo off, an'
bad luck to ye; and all like ye:'
After some explanations, tke qnestions in
order are asked:
'Who is the head of ihe family ?'
'Ann Maboney, yer hom r; the same in
ould Ireland, and forever.'
'How many males in this family ?'
'Three males a day, with praties for din
ner, an—'
But how many men and boys ?'
'Och, there's the ould man an' boys, an
three children who died five years ago—
heaven rest their dear souls—the swatest
jewels that iver—'
'But how many are living ?'
'Meself and me daughter Judy, ye see,
there, and a jewel of a girl she is indade.'
'But have you no males in your family?'
"Sorra the one ; the ould man works hard
by day and isn't at home at all, but to his
males and his bed, nor Patrich niftier.'
'How many are subject to military duty V
Niver a one: Patrick and the ould man
belong to the immets, (the Emmet*, a New
York Irish corps) an' sure finer looking sol
diers were niver bora.'
'How many are entitled to vote ?'
'Why the ould man an' meself and Judy;
wain't it we that bate the natives and Whigs
an' all, an' elected Polk over 'em all ? Sorra
the day he died an' disappointed us, for a
fine man he was.'
'How many colored persons in your fami
ly?'
'Nagers! what, nagers do you mane ? Out,
man, an' don't be insultin' me. Out wid ye,
and niver ask for me senses agin ;—don't ask
about me senses—wither I have nagers in
me family. Yer out of yer senses yerself;
begone, and don't bother me.'
A BREACH or PROMISE CASE.—A Charming
business-like yotipg milliner, who had been
in the habit of tripping' Into a sank for her
small change, made her visit the other day,
and says: "Good morning, Mr Cashier 1
have come for five dollars worth of your
small change again."
'I am sorry to say, Miss , that we can
not accommodate you,' was the reply.
'But here is your promise to pay on de
mand."
'I cannot help that'
'Then you break your promise, do you ?'
'Certainly.'
'And with impunity ?'
'To be sure, our charter allows it.'
'Allows yon to make as many promises as
you please, and break them when you
please ?'
'lt may be so construed.'
'Ah dear me, how I wish I was a bank
and had a charter'
'Why so ?'
'Because I have made a promise— not a
promise to pay a five dollar note which I
would k lush to break; but a promise of my
very self to one I do not love.'
'Why don't you breek it then ?'
'Ah, Mr. Cashier, there's the rub. Unlike
your bank, I have no charter, and should be
sued for breach of promise, and heavily
fined.— Chicago Democrat.
THE NEW PRISON. —The County Commis
sioners broke ground for the new Prison, last
1 Monday on the Lot purchased of Andrew
Russel, Esq., atthe upper end of Market
street, in this Borough. They have but few
men at work, their object being for the pre
sent merely to ascertain whettier the ground
is of such a nature as ,'to afford a perfectly
good and safe foundation for the structure
that is to be reared. The earth through
which they have penetrated for the front
wall, some five feet, is very solid, so that no
farther apprehensions are entertained on the
subject. The Commiseioners have not a'
dopted a plan for the building, aa yet, but are
to have a meeting on Saturday, at whioh
time we are in hopes some definite action
will be had.— PotteviUe Emporium.
W "Give me a bid, gentlemen—some
one start the oart—do give us a bid, if you
please—anything to start the oart," cried an
excited auctioneer, who stood in the cart he
was endeavoring to sell. "Anything you
please, to start it." "If data all you wants,
I'll sthart her for you," exclaimed a broad
backed countryman, applying his shoulder to
the wheel, and giving the cart a sudden push
forward, tumbled the auctioneer over the
side. By the time the fallen auctioneer re
gained his feet, the countryman had started
too.
LITTLE SCAUVLKTLL RAILROAD. —Wo leant
from the Tamaqtia Legion,' that the Com
pany have five hundred laborers at work on
the Road, and are pushing the repairs with
great energy. The injury to the road by the
flood was so great as at first supposed, and
it is confidently saidG will be ia order for
the Passenger Cars, by Wednesday the 25, ult
-JWt .■is A.'' ''
Woman's Prerogative.
( The Reporter of the Washington Republic
tells the following siory of rise of the goad
Ladies of this city of magnificent distanced.
, The re potter soys the person in question
was a very ami Me and ixAnhit married Lmljr:
, how far she is entitled to thesd ehardctbHi
tiojs we leave t' e facts to say:
( She took her seat Ip the rhllroad fcdt; be
f side her husband: and depqrifci) hrnm durciijr
, fot the knMern ttfwrf of Bladen .-burg. Be
, fore the cam were well under way, she die.
| covered on the seat before her an old female
- acquaintance, and, as soon as the formaliliea
of delighted recognition wete ntkl, they be
i gen a conversation, If that ran be deemed
such wherein one party is sole talker and
the other sole listener! Suddenly the cars
I stopped. *V\e are at BtUilesbUig, my dm,'
said the husband of the voluble lady I 'Oil,
itty,' said ahe, and on she went in otintiitua
lion of hor attenuated narrative: 'Step oat
my dear,' said the hnsband. 'Jtijt wait;'
said the lady, parentHeticrtlly; add on sputi
( the thread of her siory. 'iTlie cars am star
. hng) thy deaf,'saiil the indignant htisb'and.
( 'Ask them to stop one minute,' said the elo
quent lady. 'Cligw chew-chew !' began h i
enginery. 'You'll bee* I d to Baltintorh;'
shouted tlie bhviildereil liusband, as he ap
peared to recede in the distance. 'Oh, oh !'
tcreamed the lady—'Oh, oh, oh!' The La
dy's husband's left,' shouted some of the
passengers. 'ldon't think the lady hesselfs
right,' replied a gentleman who had a noth
to take up that day at the Union Bank, iti
Baltimore. 'Oh my ! let me out!' screamed
the distressed lady. 'By ali mariner of
. means,'saiit the gentleman who was stalling
at the apparation of a protest. 'Give me
your hand, madam, quick,' said the conduq
. tor, as he jumped the lady to the side road;
| and in an instant regained the p'latforrrt.
k 'You've got a long mile to foot it backwards,
k you have,' shouted a young gentleman from
the car window. But just as the noise of
. the enginery began to grovf quick again,
with its 'chew-Chew-cbew-chew,' the lady
ran np 10 the side of tfie cai, opposiie Where
i she Bad been sitting, and shorted to her ac
. ! quaintance inside—'And sure enough, Mrs.
, Twaddle, they went off without waiting for
. tea, and the Simpkinscs have never darken
ed the Rogerses' blersed doors since that
day !'—and here she fell down and fainted,
wherein due time her distressed husband
? found her.
i The ( eiebrnfed Mrs. Miller.
t Washington A. Bocon of Detroit, xrrhes -
i the following interesting letter die Vermont
1 Family Gazette, Bellows Falls :
DETROIT, Michigan, Sept. 10, 1850.
Mrs. Millor has returned to her friends iri
this city. She states that It was her inten
tion when she left the hotel at Niagara, to
■ have thrown In r elf off the bridge which
crosses over to Goat Island, just above the
Calarael, but, on arrivifj at the place, she
had not the courage to do it—'she was a
cowatd on instinct." She had, previous to
leaving the house, put her i tail Iren to sleep,
written letters to her parent, ar.d one to the
1 landlord, stating hei intention; and requesting
them to be kind to hor babes j she had also
cot off her curls, aid left them with the let
ters, in a conspicuous place on the table.
From that time to the present, nothing pos
itive has been heard from her. It was ru
mored that she had left the country with a'
gentleman, and was travelling on the conti
nent of Europe.
Her father, however, bolieved she was
somewnere in the vicinity of Philadelphia;
and spent .several weeks in thO fruitless
search. Rulnrningin June or July, tie died
of a broken heart Not long since a brother
of hers died at Saratoga. His death, too,
was undoubtedly accelerated by the saflte
cause. He was a captain iri the Army. Her
father was formerly a U. States Senator.
Learning the condition of her family, I be
lieve she intimated to them by letter where
she could be found, and her willingness to
return. Accordingly a friend of the family
went after her last week, and brought hOr
home to mourn with her widowed mother
over the ruin she has caused. Her children
are with their father, Major Miller, aome
where at the Sot 11. She statPS and I believe
it is generally uederMood here, that domestic"
difficulties drove her to the rash act of leav
ing her children, and destroying herself, and
after shuddering on the brink of thai awful
gulf into which she dred not plnnge, she
changed her plan, and buried herself iq a
convent er nunnery nesf Baltimore. She
positively -denies having been in Company
with any gentleman, but found her way to
the monastery altot, and whieh ahe left as
pure as she entered. At any tate she is now
with her mother who has received' her With
open arms.
The Uriiontown Whig, of die nth, int.,
says that Maj. Mi.ler, the husband of Mrs.
Miller, died at the residence of Dr. Porter oil
the Thursday previous, and that he was in
terred with ffiifitary honors, at that piece, ,oh
the following day. Thus the husband, father
and brother of the lady have all died sinco
her strange dissppoartnee.
SurrcucßS BY THIS PHILADELPHIA FIRE.—
From a report by Daniel L. Miller, Jr. Esq.
Treasurer of the Fund for the relief of the
sufferers by the late great fire in Philadel
phia, we learn thai all the donations paid in
to his hands, amounts to 818,107 85.
. .> 'K',
The census taker of Jacksonville, Illinois,
has "found a roothsr leas than 13 years old
nursing a child of several mouths.
■ *'• " :
r>- * V •