The star of the north. (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, October 10, 1850, Image 1

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R. W. Weaver Proprietor.]
J$ published every Thursday Morning, by
OFFICE—Up stairs in the New Brick building
en the south side of Main street, third
square below Market.
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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.
•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
"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;
"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
"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
"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
"I don't like that," say* Pat, for he had
been ogling h*r ladyship njost desperately.
"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
"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
"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
"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
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
"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.
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
'Open the door, coachman! stop the
coach! let me out 1" bellowed the man
The coach stopped, and down came Jehu,
"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
"But you'll get wet, sir," said tho coach
"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
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
"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
"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.
"Thirdly; that you have gone in too much
haste to become rich. Slow and easy is the
"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
"Sixthly ; that you may Ve thankful our
lot is not worse. We might have famine or
pes'ilence, or wasy-or • ***)', -or altogeth
"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
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
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^ 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?"
"They are no longer beautiful to me," he
'-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. 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 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
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.
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.
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'
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.
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, 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)
Get justly, qse soberly, disttjljut# cheer,
fully, and live contentedly.