The star of the north. (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, October 10, 1850, Image 1
THE STAR (IT THE NORTH. R. W. Weaver Proprietor.] VOLUME 2. THB STAR OF THE NORTH J$ published every Thursday Morning, by R. W. WEAVER. OFFICE—Up stairs in the New Brick building en the south side of Main street, third square below Market. TERMS :—Two Dollars per annum, if paid within six 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 paid, unless at the option of the editors. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square ; will be inserted three times for one dollar, ana twenty-five cents for each additional insertion A liberal discount will be made to those who ad vertise by the year. ' 1 -■ '• Each one hath a part to do. ' and brothers ! np, be dothg, Help oach other by the way, Aid with hand and heart the dawning Of a great and mighty day. Think not earth hath fixed teachers, Progress cenieied in the few; Ail men more or less are missioned— Each one hath a part to do. Lend your aid however little, Lend yonr talent though it'if small; Trifles thrive by combination, Working for the good of all; Truth is low and wants assistance, Often many with the few; Every man however feeble, Hath a part he's rkilled to do. Faint not, lag not, in your doing, Still press onward, ye will find Brilliant sunbeams flashing ever From the archives of the mind ; Earth holds not a human creature ; Meanest pauper ye may view, If he have a spark of reason— But he hath a part to do. 'AH men may assist each other, Though it but a trifle be; Tiny streams make flowing rivors, Rivers make a mighty sea, One may do the work of many, Many help the toiling few, Thus "with all men high or low Each or.e hath a part to do. Many pillars bear the temple Varied in their strength nnd height ; And though versatile in greatness, Each contributes to its might. Thus, tho' men proclaim their weakness, And their talents small and few, Each one shares in human greatness, Each one hath a part to do. Men and brethren ! onward! onward! Lag not till the is done ! Grow in ardor, grow in earnest, For the dawning has begun. Let no heart bo found to tarry, Stirring impulse bear you through, All men aid the day that's dawning— Each man hath a part to do. FIRST MARRIAGE. •The following amusing skelch of "born" to good luck," is said to be from tho pen of the facetious Samuel Lover: Lady C. was a beauliful woman. She was still single, though rather past extreme youth. Like most pretly females she had looked too high, and she refused to believe she was not as -charming as ever. So no wonder she remained unmarried. Lady 0. had abogl five thousand pounds in the world—she owed nbont lorly ihousand pounds ; so, with all her wit and beauty, she got into the Fleet, and was likely to remain there. Now, in tho time I speak of, every lady had her head dressod by a barber, and the barber was the handsomer barber in the Cil£ ol London. Pat Philan was a great admirer of the fair sex, and wliere's the wonder ?—sure Pat was an Irishman. It was one very fiuo morning, when Philan was dressing her cap- j tivaling heid, that her ladyship took it into her mind to talk to him, and Pat was well; j pleased, for Lady C.'s toeth wero the whitest and hot smile '.he brightest in all the world' "So you're not married, Pat," says she. "Divil an inch, yer honor's ladyship," says he. "And would'nt yo like to be married *" a gain asks she. "Would a duck swim 1" "Is there any one you'd prefer ?" "Maybe, madam," says he, "you never heard of Kathleen O'Reilly, down beyant Doneraille !" Her father's cousin to O'Don nhoe, who'se own stewaid to Mr. Murphy, the under agent to my Lord Kingstown; and—" "Hush," says she. "sure I don't want to know who she is. But would she have you, if you asked her?" "Ah, thin, I'd ounly wish I'd be afthor thrying that same." "And why don't you?" "Sure I'm too poor," and Philan heav'd a prodigious sigh. "Would you like to be rich f" "Doe* a dog bark ?' ; "Jf I make jrou rich, will you do as I tell you?" "Mille murther! yer honor, don't be tan talising a poor boy." "Indeed I'm not," said Lady C, "So lis ten : How would you like to marry me f" "Ah, thio, my lady, I believe theJCing of Rossis himself would be proud to do that aame, lave alone a poor divil like Pat Phi lan." "Well, Philan, if you'll marry me to mor row, I'ii £ iva yon one thousand pounds." "Oh whilaboO ! whilaboo! sure I'm mad, or enchanted by the good people," roared Pat, dancing rdund the room. "But there are conditions," *ay* lady C. After the first day of our nuptial* you mu*t never see me again, nor claim me for your wife." "I don't like that," say* Pat, for he had been ogling h*r ladyship njost desperately. COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 10? 1850** - "But remember Kathleen O'Reilly. With the money I'll give you, you may go and marry her." "That's thrue," said he, "but thin the big amy." "I'll never appear against you," says her ladyship. "Only remember you must take an oath never to call me your wife after to morrow, and never to go telling the whole story." "Divil a word I'll iver say." "Well, then," says she, "thore's ten pounds. —Go and buy a liceupe, and leave the rest to me and then she explained to him where he was to go, and when he was to come, and all that. '< The next day f'al was trne to his appoint ment, aud found two gentleman already with her ladyship, - * J c " "Have you got the license V said she. "Bero it is, my lady," says ho ; and he gave it to hor, She handed it to one of the gentlemen, who viewed it attentively. Then calling in her two servants, she turned to the gentleman who was reading: "Perform the ceremony," said she. And sure enough in ten minutes Pat Philan war the husband of the lovely Lady C. "That will do," says she, to her new hus band. as he gave her a hearty kiss; "that'll do. Now give me my marriage certificate." The rid gentleman did so, and bowing respectfully to the five pound note she gave him, he retiied with his clerk ; for sure e nough, I forgot to tell you he was n parson. "Go and bring me the warden," says iny lady to one of her servants. "Yes, my lady," says she, and presently the warden appeared. "Will you be kiud enough," said Lady C., in a voice that would call a bird off a tree, ''will you be kind enough to send me a hack ney coach I I wish to leave this prison im mediately." "Your ladyship forgots," replied he, "that you must pay forty thousand pounds beforo I let you go." "I am a married woman. You can de lain my husband, but not me." And she smiled at Philan who began rather to dislike ho appearance of things. "Pardon me, my lady, it is well known you are single." "I tell you I am married." "Where's your husband 1" "There, sir!" and ho pointed to the aston ished barber; "there he stands. Here is my marriage certificate, which you can pursue at your leisure.—My servants yonder were witnesses of the ceremony. Now detain me, sir. one instant' at your peril." The warden was dumbfounded, and no wonder. Poor Philan would have spoken, but neither parly would let him. The law yer Lelow was consulted. The result was evident. Iu half an hcNh: Lady C. was free, and Pat Philan, her legitimate husband, a prisoner for debt to the amount of forty thou sand pounds Well, sir, fbr some lime Pat thought he was in a dream, and the creditors thought they wero still worso The following day they held a meeting, and finding they had been tricked, swore they'd detain poor Pat forever. But, as they well knew that he had nothing, and wouldn't feel much shame in goit.g through the insolvent court, they made tho best of a bad bargain, and let him a lone. Well, you must know, about a week after this, Paddy Philan was sitting by his little fire, thinking over the wonderful things he had seen, when as sure as death, tho post man brought hijn a letter, tho first he had ever received, which ho took over to a friend of his, one Ryan, a fruit seller, because, )ou see he was no great hand at reading wri ting, to decipher it for him. It ran thus: "Go to Doneraille and marry Kathleen 0,- Reilly. The instant the knot is tied I fulfil mv promise of of making you comfortable for life. But as you value your life and li berty, nevet breathe a syllable of what has passed. Remember you are in my power if you tell the story. The money will be paid to you directly when you enclose mo your marriage certificate. I send you £SO for present expenses." Oh! happy Paddy! Didn't he start next day for Cork, and didn't he marry Kathleen, and touch a thousand pounds? By the pow ers he did. And what is more he took a cottage, which, perhaps you know, is not a hundred miles from Brutiin. in the county of Limerick ; and i'fax, he forgot his first wife, clean and entirely, and never told any one but myself, under a promise of secresy, the story of his first marriage. I AN EDITOR'S RETORT.—At a late festival, a pretty Miss watted upon the editor with a 1 pie-plate of antique manufacture, in the cen tre of which he espied the following coup let— "One sweet kiss Is the price of this." This excited his naturally amorous dispo sition, and as soon as opportunity presented, be motioned the young lady to his side, and pointing with his knife to the lines, said : "Young lady, your pay is ready, whenever you present your bill I" (T Biratn Powers, the American sculptor, has completed a grand allegorical figure of his country. The statute, a female, has a diadem beneath her feet, and in her, hand the cap of liberty. The figure finds her sup port on thp fasces—indicative, it is said, of the fact that justice is the true-foundation of a free-Commonwealth. -The destination of the statue is reported to be Washington. From the Spirit of the Times. A DOG-DAY PASSENGER. Barley, the Comedian, was wont to take "sisters and self" down to the seaside for summer relaxation. On one of the hottest days of August, he had engaged three pla ces in "a Brighton four-inside coach ;" and, Veing seated, the little family party wore re joicing that their trio bad passed Kensington without being converted into a quartette ; but, alas! their joy was short-lived ; for at Croydon ! —sweet rural Croydon ! —an attor ney, nicknamed "the surry elephant," a man of eighteen stone weight, made his ap pearance for an inside seat. 0, morl de na vie! a gross-feeding,garlic-eating, cigar-smo king lozengs-swollowing eight jon-sione At torney, in aide of a small coach in the mid dle of AngusfT IHbra'Ts suffocation in thp very thought. But in he must dame; and upon his coming in, behold! the vehicle blows at tho first step of tho man-mountain. Barley, perceiving tho discomforter of his sisters gave a sly hint that he would soon put all to rights. The Croydon Falstaff had en tered, and the vehicle moves on. Barley now plays the part of a stranger, and asks one of the ladies, if pleasure is her sole object in visiting Brighton. "O, no, sir 1" is the reply; "I am ordered sea-b tthing, for a nervous complaint." The oiher confessed to muscular rheuma tism, and was prooeeding in the language of deep lamentation as to the pari iu which it had fixed, when Harley cried out— "Ah, ladies, what are your maladies to mine ! yours may be remedied, but alas ! for me there is no relief!" "Your malady, sir !" said one of the la dies; with a simpering, sympathetic voice— "your malady ! why, sir,'you look the very picture of health." "Ah, my dear madam," was the reply ; you know little about my disease ; looks of ten deceive—the virus is working in me e ven now. I wish, for yoursakes, that the journey was accomplished ; bnt I greatly fear we shall not bo able to keep our places till then ; there is premonition in my tiirtw. "Your thru*, sir ! what do you mean ?" said one of the ladies; ''youmako me un easy—and surely you are getting worse. But what do you complain of?" ' 'Alas ! madam, it is about oight days since I was bitten by a mad dog—my cure cannot bo affected ! but there is momentari ly relief when I have leisure and room to take a rj.le in th cov). when this can be done safely for my fellow-passengers. Though I look well, yet, when the fit seizes me—which it may do in a moment—l am no longer a responsible being ; my strong in clination then is to bark like a dog, and fix my grasp upon any gentleman present; but I will take a lady, rather than havo nothing to snap at." The feelings of the fat attorney, who had been a silent listener, were now wound up to the point of fear. "Do you bite !" he exclaimed. Barley's reply, with his teeth set on edge, his eyes staring in his head, and a horrible confirmation of the face, was— "Hre-hre-cre-wha-whur, boW-wha hre bow-wow-wow-bow! 'Open the door, coachman! stop the coach! let me out 1" bellowed the man mountain. The coach stopped, and down came Jehu, saying— "Hillo, what's (he row inside ?" "Dbw-wow-wow," said Harley. "What's tho matter ?" said coachy, "Hydrophobia's the matter," said the at torney ; "open the door! be quick, and let me out!" The door was oponed, wherl another "bow-wow" made tho bulky attorney leap out. as if one other moment's delay would secure a horifio bite, and bring him ir. for a disease for which no remedy has been die covered. "But you'll get wet, sir," said tho coach man. "0, never mind," saill the man-mountain; "I'm thankful I'm out, I'll ride anywhere— on the top of the baggage if you please." And Harley and his sisters saw him no rnoro. . 17* The German citizons of Boston and vicinity gave a torchlight procession in hon or of Jenny Lind. A grand display of fire works also took place. The first represent ed a lyre surrounded by * laurel wreath. The last was tho coal of arms of Swe den, between two columns of stars ; on one side the flag of Sweden was displayed, and on the opposite the stars and stripes floated. The name of "Jenny Lind" was displayed in colored lights, and the design itself was magnificient. Nobility on the Stage. An English Baronet is on his way to New York to fulfil an engagement at one of the theatres in the city. This however is not a singular case. Mr. Skerret, Burton's etage manager at the Olympic, is positively enti itled to assume the dignity of the bloody hand, the armorial privilege of baronetoy. The death of his uncle, Sir Geo. Cookson Skerret, of Crewe Hall, near Sandbacb, Cheshire, in England, places him in posses sion of the title. Lady Skerret ia at the height of popularity at Burton'* theatre ID Chamber* street, and there are several hon orable little Skerret'* iu tfii family, all good rapublicans and Amarican citizens. Nobility is looking up. Truth aad Right—Hoi ujLfgr Poultry. Uncle Benjamin's Sermon. Not many hours ago, I heard Uncle Ben jamin's discussing this matter to his son, who was complaining of pressure. "Rely upon it, Sammy," said the old man ns he leaned on his staff, with his grey locks flowing in the breeze of a May muming; "murmuring pays no tiil!s. 1 have been an observer many times these fifty year, and I never saw a man helped out of a hole by cursing his horses. "Be as quiet as you can, for nothing will grow under a harrow, and diecchtent har rows the mind. Matters are bad, I acknow ledge, but no ulcer is any better for finger ing. The more you groan, the poorer you 1 grow." "Repining at losses is only putting pepper into a sore eye. -Cm-ft 'WnjMH'kig -iU- and we may be thankful that we have rrot a famine. Besides I alu-ays look notice that whenever I felt the rod pretty smartly, it was much as to say—"Here is something which you have got loteam " Sammy don't you forget that your schooling is not over yet, though you havo * wife and two chil dren." "Aye," replied Sammy, "you may say that, and a mother in law, ane two apprenti ces into the bargain, ami I should like to know what a poor ma# can earn here, when the greatest scholars a (id lawyers are at log gerheads, and can't for their lives tell what has become of the hail money. "Softly, Sammy, lam older than you; I have not got these groj) hairs and this crook ed back without some burdens. I could tell you stoties of the days of continental mon ey, when my grandfather used to stuff a sul key-box with bills to pay for a yearling or a wheat fan. and when the Jcisey women us ed thorns for pins, and laid their teapots a way in the garret. You wish to know what you cau learn? You may learn these seven things. "First; that you have saved too little and spent too much. I never taught you to be a miser, but 1 have seen you giving your dol lar for a "notion." when you might have laid one half aside for charity aud one half aside for a rainy day. "Secondly; that you have gone too much on credit.* 1 always told you credit was a shadow; there is a substance behind, which casts the shadow, and no wise man will fol low any farther than he can see the substance. "You may learn that you havo lb "awed, aid been* -ThscOy**! inio "1. bog. "Thirdly; that you have gone in too much haste to become rich. Slow and easy is the race. "Fourthly ; that no course of life can be depended upon as always prosperous. lam afraid ttiat the younger race of working men in America have a notion that nobody would go to ruin on this sido of the water. Provi dence has greatly blessed us, and we have become presumptuous. "Fifthly ; that you have not been thank ful enough to God fo: His btnefits in pa6t times. "Sixthly ; that you may Ve thankful our lot is not worse. We might have famine or pes'ilence, or wasy-or • ***)', -or altogeth er. "And lastly, to the end of my sermon, you may learn to offer with moro undefttanding, the prayer of your infar.oy: 'Give us,, this day our daily broad.' " The old man ceased, and Sammy put on his apron, and told Dick to blow away at the force bellows. The Perils of Falsehood. In the beautiful language of an cjninont writer, "When once a concealment or deceit has been practised in matters whore all should be fair and open as the day—confi dence can never be restored, any more than you oati restore the whito bloom to the grape or plum, which you have once pressed in your hand." How true is this, and what a neglected truth by a great portion of man kind. Falsehood is not only one of the most hu miliating vices, but soouer later it is certain to lead to many serious crimes.—t> ith part nera in trade—with partners in life—with friends—with lovers—how important is con fidence ! How essential that all guile and hypocrisy should be guarded against in the intercourse between such pflrties? How much misery would have been avoided hi the history of many lives, had truth and sin cerity been controlling motivos, instead cf pre vacations and deceit? "Any vice," said a parent in our hearing a fow days since— "any vice, at least among the frailties of a milder oharacter, but falsehood. Far better that my child should commit an error or do a wrong and confess it, than escape the pen alty, however severe, by falsehood and hy pocrisy. Let me know the worst and a rem edy may possibly be applied. But keep me in the dark—let me be misled or deceived, and it i* impossible to tell at what unpre pared hour a crushing blow, an overwhelm ing exposure, may come." 17* "Grace Greenwood," in a letter from Washington, mentions some peculiarities of Senatorial pronunciation, which are rather odd. For instance, Mr. Clay, and indeed many of the Southern members, say "trior" and "thar." Mr. Webster says' 'in-dt-vid-oo al" and "natur," and one of the Texas Sena tors say* "bvst" for burst. All true. HT WHIT'* this fine /or ? A Lesson for Yonng Ladies. Young ladies should avoid the use of byewords at all time* They are not only extremely inelegant in themselves, but tend greatly to a coarse habit of expression, which if indulged in, will ere long emerge into a second nature. Trust me many a gay lassie has lost the attention of a devoted admirer by indulging unwittingly in some unfortunate form ol speech, which men will not tolerate in women, how much soever they may tolerate such things among them selves. I once met with an olegant and classical man, whose attractions no woman could well withstand, and whose well known par tiality for a young and boautiful female ac quaintance induced the belief that ere long fhUjSU^Enclpr.lv by the reigning divinity ofTiis heart, but afso oniis very handsome establishment, t- ertainly an icoberg could not have been more freezingly polite than Col. Ashton's exquisite touch of his well brushed beaver when they met. (Of a truth these gentlemen when piqued, take ex traordinary pa be most excruciatingly polite.)—Well might I wonder what could the matter be. Certainly, Emelie was as beautiful as a poeu's dream. With all her figure so matchless, in just, iu almost etho rial proportions, together with that indescri bable air of high fashion, of which liberal educational privileges larely fail of inves ting the possessor. All these attractions Emelie possessed in their highest perfection. Will indeed, might I wonder what could have occurred thus to damp his enthusiastic admiration of one of whom he had always professed the warmest esteem. Assuming tho privilege usually accorded to an intima te friend, I gently touched upon the subject. "Do you remember her hands?" he asked. "Matchless," replied I. "And herTery classical and perfect nose?" "Certainly," "They are no longer beautiful to me," he continued. '-Nay. nay," I enterposed, "you cannot must not, detract from Emelie's claim to higer order of physical beauty." "Perhaps in the main you may be correct,, he rejoined, ''but in my estimation comeli ness of person ha* little to do with beauty of mind. lor.ee rather suddenly encouti ! tered Emelie when in earnest conversation with her brother upon some subject on which she was ( rather scoptical, when with her no* and her exquisite little finger elevated, she ejaculated—" " "Why, Colonel, what is the matter—what could she havo said I" "In a horn," he gasped with the low deep stern voice of a despot. "Yes, those beau tiful lips that I had so fondly dreamed of one day possessing the enclusive right U>— those lips passed the fir.al sentence of our seperation—and her exqisite little hand, too, which I had so often been permitted 'o ca ress with an intense delight, known to- none but natures like mine—all—everything about from thul moment bore the aspect of "positive ugliness. No, No, my wife mugt be pure even in every little word that pisses her lips—and I cannot, nay, will not respect any wor-v-n that would use oven en elegant bye-word, if such a thing Were in existence.' Trust me young ladies, there are many Col. Ashtons in life. You will meet them at every turn. Cease then, the indulgence of a practice >vhich cannot fail of lowering you in the estimation of your friends, but al so greatly distracts from that high standard of female excellence which should be the ob ject and aim of our women's existance. Let us be pure, then, as our own magnola flowers, upon which we are told the stars shine w.ith additional silvery light.— Cupid's Bow. Christianity not or Human Origin. To mo when I look at this religion, taking 1 its point of departure from the earliest pe riod in the history of i:s race ; when I see it comprising all that natural religion teachers and introducing a new system in entire har mony with it, but which could not have seduced from it; when I see it commending itself to the conscience of man, containing a perfect code of morals, meeting all his mor al wants, and embosoming the only true principles of economical and political aci | ence ; when 1 see in it the best possible sys | tern of excitement and restrain for all the Faculties; when I see how simple it is in its principles, and yet in how many thousand ways it mingles in with human affairs, and modifies them for good, so ihatitis adapted to become universal; when I see it giving an account of the termination of all things, worthy of God and consistent with reason to me, when I look at these things, it no more seems possible that the system of Christianity should have been originated or sustained by man. than it does that the ocoan should have been made by him. OF The Heroine of the Van Ness Cast.— VYe see it stated that Mrs. Connor, who some years ago laid claim to the immense proper tyof Gen Van Ness, of Washington oity, on the alleged ground of her being his widow, haa recently come into the possession of 85- 00,000, left to her by a distant relative j n New Orleans. E7" Congress will assemble again in nine weeks from the present time. Fortunately the conatitnUon limit* th# next seMsion to thrt* month*. • - . , L . From the T\eo Worlds. IIOMtEPATIIIC JJHOTII. Talre a robin's leg, Mind, tho drumstick merely; Put it in a tub Filled with water nearly. Set it out of doors, In a place thats shady j Let it stand a week, (Three days for a lady.) Dip a spoonful in, To a five pail kettle; It should be of tin, Or perhaps bell-metal. Fill tho kettle up. Put it in a boiling^i^ Skim the liquor well, To prevent its oi ing. Tako of rice onel^^^^k Dee, to light tho fire, Any but our Journal. Lot the liquor bo'l Hall HII hour—no longer; (If it's fir a man, You can make it stronger.) Should you now desire That the soup be fiavury, Stir it once around Wiih a slick of savory. If of thyme you choose Just to put a snatch in ; 'Twill be flavored tine If you dip your watch in. When the broth is done, Set it out to "jell" it; Then three times a day, Let the patient smell it. If he chance to die, Say 'twas nature did it ; But if he should get well, Give the broth the credit. Stealing Spoons. Here is a laughable anecdote ol old Judge B ,of South Carolina, for which we are indebted to an esteemed friend : The Judge was a great admirer of whis key punch. 1 believe his father was of Phoenician descent, which may account for his weakness. One night on circuit, some scamps of lawyers, after the old gentleman was pretly oblivious, determined to play him a trick, and letting the innkeeper into the joke, wrapped a number of the latter's silver spoons in a handkerchief, and stowed them away'in the Judge's trunk. The next morning, while the stage was leisurely wa ding through a stretch of sandy road, who should overtake them at full speed but the tavern-keeper, who with much apparent em barrassment made known his errand. He informed tho party that he had missed some spoons from his house, and as he intended making a thorough search, he was afraid some he suspected would not let him do so. But if he should say to them 'You needn't be so particular now; I've just left Judge B. and Mr. So-and-so, and they didn't hhtder me,' the rogues wouldn't have a wold tc say in excuse. 'Oh, certainly, certaLly ?' cried everybody, all except the Judge being in the joke; and down they all jumped, open ed their trunks one after another, and shwok, the separate panicles of clothing to show there was nothing in them Prosently ir waa the Judge's turn. 'Oh, to be sure 1' said he, producing the keys. But the search among his properties was scarce begun ; when to his tremendous astonishment, out of a handker chief dropped the landlord's spoons- Eveiy one looked at tho Judge. After a moment's reflection, he broke out with: 'Well now, b°ys, you see it's that miserable Scotch whiskey I drank last night. I know it's that made me steal these spcons ' They never enlightened the Jndgo. and he always firmly believed there was nothing like Scotch wliis koy for weakening a man's sense of right, ( - specially touching the appropriation of his neighbor's property. In fact, it was said, whenever a prisoner charged with stealing was brought before him, ho would gravely ask if he hadn't been drinking Scotch whis key lately; 'for if you have,' he would add, 'you d better leave it off, 1 tell you; I stole spoons once. I ' —Knickerbocker. Celebrated Tailors. The late Governor Scott of Miss., worked for several years as a journeyman tailor iu that State, and when ueminatod for Gover nor, was carrying on a small tailoring busi ness. He filled the duties and .dignities () f the office of Governor with such un exam pled satisfaction, that the State Oj Misiii sippi raised a mooument to his r we mory. Tennessee has furnished two Senators from this illustrious fraternity. One of them Hopkins L. Turney, was distiiigi-;i,p e a by his colleagues for ihe pdssessio-., 0 f h higher order of talent, while M.-. J' ar nigan will long be remembered as one 0 f lho brightest or naments of that defied b^ y . Bul) in eg . timating true it will, in a more eminent deej reej be found embodied in the talents characteristics of such men as Andvew Johnson, of Tenuetsec, member of the House of Repiesematives. Of htm it was said, by one of the Presidents, that "in point of talent, he is a head and shoulders above any other man in Tennessee." The Hon. Andrew Johnson is also an excellent tailor, having carried on the business suc cessfully for many years. The more a man knows, the less he is apt to talk—discretion allays his heat, and makes him coolly deliberate what and where it is fit to speak. [Two Dollars ur AMU. NUMBER 37. IiAMOJU. The word ''Labor," with moat men, has unpleasant ideas associated with it. To mart yit signifies ragßedness, of ignofince, 1 r degradation—ao'iing bones, mental am! bod ily lassitude, a gnawing ditialifeotion with every thing around them, and a half weari ness of life. To destroy the inexplicable feelings which excessive labor tints creates, the oven-wrought working man wants, and he must have, sotno mental or bodily restor alive to supply this waste of viral energy. But dhe present institutions of society offer him nothing of the hind. There is nothing around him to raise tip his prostrated CVAI, and enlarge ami putify the noblo germ w.th' In him; for every thing he hears and sees and feels, tsuds • o enforce upon him a sense lof inferioriety nr.d abasement. No wotu.-r tfirrrtrfr Tmrnfroutr iTroupn and vrnrc. t '6—- —' — he seeks for the momomtnry relaxation atf or led by debauchery—that he Boon loses e ven the dome to improve his very few he :t of leisure, and becomes contont to plo I through life, not as a maVt, but as an uniiritt eating, drinking, and working, to the end of his days. Jhe almighty principle oi mind, if unused and unimproved, sickens, and degenerates, and dies Labor, like every thing else, is good when used legitimately, but becomes prejudicial when abnsed. It has hitherro been regar ded as a eursc—and it la' to many bcon an actual cur 3—only because men have not used it rightly. The great mass of mankind has labored to PXCJSS ; and like overy olhe* excess, labor has excited little else than a version and loathing. Labor ought to raise none of those unplea sunt emotions; nor would it do so if taken in moderation. It we understood things rightly, we sh juld consider labor a blasting rather than a curse, for it is the one gioat prcs orvatite of intellectual and corporal health. But, with strange inattention to the nature and use of things, the world at largo stamps labor, which is the parent of every enjoy ment. as uot only unpleasant, but derogatory. The working man must not sit with the i dler or capitalist, nor must he eat with them, or associate with them. The pot house and hovel are allotted to the otic—the ball-room and the palace are usurped by the other, To havj ever honestly earned a shilling, is under the present system, and by those who have perched themselves upon the pinnacles of that system, considered almost as a mor al stain up n a man, which can bo wiped a way only by .successive generations o! idlers Those are now the most regarded who can point back to the longest list of anceslora who never did one usetul thing, and who have therefore lived for ages upon the in dustry of the productive classes, by what can 1 only be called tolerated robbery. But all labor must come from some parties; and the advocnte for justice and for equal rights cannot but exclaim—"Let those only cry ot t against working who can live without rat ing and drinktr.g, for none but such were ia tended to be idle."— Boston Investigator. THE TATTLER. There is not a being that mov.m on the nabitable globe more degraded or more con temptible than a TATTLER. Vicious pnrtci pies want of honesty, servi'e meannes, "des picable ineidiousne.es, form its character. Has ho will In attempting to display tt I-v makes himself a fool. Has he friends ? 1> V unhesitatingly disclosing their secrets 1„ will make them bis most bitter eneruies By t.-liing all ho knows, he will soon disco-. er to the world that he knows ho; lin) Does he envy an' individual 1 His totiguo. with falsehood, defames his charac ter. Doea he covet the favor of any one? Ho attempts to gain it by slandering others. His npproach it feared—his person ha'ed his company unsought—and Ids sentiments despised as omanaiing from n heart fruitful with guile, teemiwg with iniquity, loaded, wrlh envy, malice and revenge. fy "Go out into the Sambo," satd a southern master to one o fhis negroes, '■and cut me some cro j(chog for , fpnca _, 0 stick in the grour >lt ]j|, e ,^j # .> ma^jn g at the same nn inverted \ of two fingers on a table. The negro took Jiis axe, wen into vvoods, was gone all Jday, and re- w i|j, nothing but bis ax in"his hand. tVherc are your crotches, Sombo V' asked the master. "Could'nt find none,"mass, no how !" ''Could'nt find any snid his mas ter ; "why there are thousands of thorn ity the woods. Why look at that tree; there are a htfl'f doxfn on that; oould'nt you find any like that J" pointing to a forked branch on the tree. "Oh, ye, massa, plenty o 'dem kind; but doy all crotch tip; t'ought yoa wanted dera kind dat croutch down!" Ey The marriage of the King of Den-* mark with the Countess Danner, the ci-dtv- % ant court milliner, has given great fflence at Copenhagen. The ladies who attend court, and who are highly ihdignant at this . marriage, are under apprehensions lest they should receive commands to wait ugon the Countess Von Danner. Tnls apprehension is greater, becanse it is known that the lady in question has declared that nothing would give her mote satisfaetion than to see the la dies upon whom she waited as their dress maker, now come and pay their court tt) her. Get justly, qse soberly, disttjljut# cheer, fully, and live contentedly.