EP fW PMKietvr.] V.. • tis STAR P TIE NORTH Is puMisked every Thursday Morning, by *• MF. WEAVER. OFFICE—Up stain in Ike Art* Brick building on the south lids qf Main street, third square behne Market. TERMS : —Two Dollars per annum, if paid wrilhm su months from the time of subsori bun;; two dollars and fifty cents it not paid within the year. No eubso-.iption received ■pr a '*•" period than aur months: no discon - luiuance permitted Until all amanges are paid, unless at ' jM3 option of the editors. not exceeding one square, wiU be Vuserted three times for one dollar, and cents for each additional insertion A liberal discount trill be mads to those vho ad vertise by the year. A LAY OF LOVE. ST GEO. D. raCNTICC. Yet one again I've seen thee, Aud my every thought is thine, ' v Ay, 1 kneel to thee in worship As to an idoMirine. In my spirit's silent chambers, Where hope may never be, One lovely light is burning— Tl a holy love of thee. ' " . 1 see thee—oh, t see thee Cu the shadows on the river, . . . 1 see Ibee in the moon's sweet beams That on the bright lake quiver; I see thee in the mists that move Like spectres o'er the streams, And at midnight deep I see thee In the shadowy world of dreams. I see thee—oh, I see thee In die gentle llowers of spring, Ami in the tints the rainbow wear* Upon its Reeling wing ; I see thee tn the sunset hues That gush along tho west, And 1 see thee in the dew-drop That gems the rose's breast. 1 hear thee—oh, I hear thee In the murmeriug of the waves, And in the soft am; twilight gush Of fountains from their caves ; 1 hear thy voice's music - I In each sound that wanders by, In thAadence of die night-bird And the wind's misterious sigh. 4 hear <oh, I hear thee Ir. the chime of evening bells, And in the tone "that o'er the deep, - At solemn twilight swells ; I hear thee in tho lorest lyres Swept by the breath of even, And ill the low, deep spirit-voice That tells die soul ot heaven. love thee—oh I love thee— There's nnuglit in the bright blue skies, 1 No lovely rhing of earth but brings Thy sweet form to my eyes; 1 love thee, and there's not a sound, A tone to my spirit dear, A breath from nature'* lip but gives Thy voice to my ravished I love thee—oh, I love thee— Thou art in the darkest hour To my soul a star, a fount, a bird, i A music-tone, a flower; 1 love thee, and my dear thonght thrills Each fibre ol my frame, I.ike heaven's own lightning, and my heart n each throb calls thy name. I lovs thee—oh, I love thee, And 1 would these words were borne To i lice on every holy breeze Of eventide ami morn; 1 love diee, and 1 would these wards Were written on thy sky, And on each star and dower and leaf That greet thy gentle eye. TUB BAD MIR IPS STORY. 'Tangled and harsh, Like sweet bells out of tune." Nigh', night, the lonety, the intense ! how long it it seems to me! how veif long ! and he has not come yet, as he promised, with bis low, silvery voice, to while away those heavy tedious hours. They say, too, that he wiR not come ; I hear their mocking tones as tbey talk of the deep sea, and whisper all around me that I killed him; I who would Juve died for lone look of hi*! That pale ••vl, 100- why does she put her fats close lo j sasee and whisper that he wilt never eome again-? I know that ho is dead ; I know that in the long night before I oame here, I used to press my hand upon my burning lore head) and shed hot, bitter tears.—lt all comes back to me as I sit bere in silence, waiting for his voice. Hew proud I used 10 bo when I walked about with others In Ibis, beautiTi worlJ > and laughed scornfully at those who came to do m. homage! IJow like * quotn j f e lt when I IOOITB-' *. >• . , mi an the pictures tn my ( lather's hall, that they called so lovaly, and knew that there was not one of them with a face and form "like mine My father, too, be never comes here now ; -but a smile useJ to ateal over his broad, high forehead, when I told him that 1 would never leave htm for pay of those who did homage to me then; fbf wy lover must have a proud name, and A rtehte .mansion, and broad lands, to win me for bis btide, l'oor fool! I thought he loved me then, but I know better now. I know that while I sit here in darkness, the light streams merrily op from tho windows V of my old homo, and my younger sister, all gaily dressed, throws her white amis over tho harp, and sings all the old songs that I .used lo sing, while the bright crowds (net together there never think of the poor mad .girl who sot in that very place and sang all those songs once, a long time ago. it must be a long time ago. I cannot > remember every thing now, but I know, that proud as 1 was, them oame at last a voice sober than gliding waters to my ear, and a form Op wbioh 1 loved to gaze. Ho never alled mo beautiful—never said he loved me —but at last ho seemed to (del it, and would omo and Mend by my ride know hi. eyes were on m-' whil * 1 look up tp m'' • and dared not 'hem, tin wbUp * BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY;THUagBAY. I ered me that he would know my secret, and ! 'hen I looked up as proudly as ever, till his | lip curled and his voice grew cold, and he ? j walked from mo in anger. Bat what was j that to me! Was his a proud name, or broad j ( lands, or a noble mansion ? Ob no. I tried to forget him, and thongh the red blush was .1 ! on his forehead when we met, I loooked at ' him no more. , I After that there came a fair girl with him. j They say she' was hie cousin, and I saw bar . , hanging upon bis.arm, and watched herool jor come and go in his presence. I knew ; she loved him then, and envied her, for she j saw him always. I hated her, too, for he r.ever frowned when he looked upon her face. j But I grew tired of the darkness, and the . consultations, and the weariness of those days. I felt that I oould lie on that eouch no . longer, with the fever preying at my heart. 11 I tose up and mid 1 was better. The physi- j cians confirmed my statement, when they I saw the color come back to ray cheek and | the brightness to my eye. So I went into | the world once more, aud danced, ami | talked, and laughed more gaily.than ev j er. i Was he not there ? Was It not his voice | that thrilled upon my oar that night, when I 1 turned in the dance and aaw him by my ! side? Oh, the brave spirit that had upheld i me >0 long, left my heart then. I fainted in ; his arms. Whose lips smiled tenderly then ' as he presented me kindly to his heatt aud 1 calling me his ? I knew that he loved me ! after that, and 1 feared his cousin no more; ; ay, it is true, he did leave them all for me, | giving up his "mother's look and his sister's ' smile,'' and breaking the heart of that fair, [ pale cousin ; he did leave the home of his childhood and go to India, there to gather j lite yellow gold with which to gratify the base pride of her who hod so tempted him. : 1 cannot think of this; I cannot speak ~of this, for they mock me, those pale, envious spectres, when I say that for my sake he did this, and never came back again, that I killed j him ; I who thought only of him, and in the still darkness and the torturing night-watches prayed only tor one look more, though the dead might rise to answer me. And what came at my appeal! His mother's face. Aye, with a cold reproachful glance as if she would have cursed the destroyer of her son. I could not bear it—l could not—her brew was so j like his. And it followed me everywhere ; at midnight, at noonday those features glea . mod on me the same. Do you wandor that , I raved then ? The pale girt, loo; they told me strange | tales of her v They said that her step had , grown feeble, and her eyes dull since his i death; but what right had she ? They told me something else ; they said that bet only f consolation was a little picture of her cousfh ! that lie had given her in former days. They told me, and never knew why my lips com pressed and the blood left my cheek as they talked of the love token of his early days. My sorrow was hidden then, and my mal ady worked inwardly. That night 1 could not sleep; the portrait haunted me. Why should she fold his likeness to her bosom, when I whom he loved so truly, was deso late ? I dreamed (bat it were only mine, if I could only once see the pictured lineaments of my beautiful and unforgollen, all those haunting spaclres would leave me, when I was alone. I pondered all this ; and ono night, when every one was asleep, and nobody thinking of me or my sorrow, 1 rose, j and stealing softly down stairs, went to house. It was a low cottage dwelling, and the casement was left open. - I entered, and bent over the sleeping girl- Ah ! she was thinking of him, but she looked so peaceful ly that I envied her. On her neck I saw the ribbon attached to his pioture; her fair, small : had;'* were clasped over it, and I paused ' and hesitated. Ju'! 'hen she smiled a soft childish smile, and I knew she had S**#r loved him, or she oould not smile, wheti Re I was gone forever. That thought gave me strength ; I severed the ribbon with a small knile I had bronght with me, and lifting up her hands, seized the picture. She waked, and screamed aloud, as the bright knife glittered in tbe moonbeams, and eyes glanced upon my figure. Her scream aounded fearfully through the cottage i I seized my prize and escaped; the picture was mine—all mine. I pressed it to ;„y heart and wa* hippy, tor the spectres did not come. I could sing now, and talk gaily with them all, for those sweet features smil ed on me once more But my father's eye began to rest strangely on my face, and my companions shrank away when I encounter ed their gaze. Well, I heard news soon > that fair cousin was dead : ay, dead; and they said that grief for his loss had caused it. But I told them no, that grief did not kill, for I had loveu him 100. It was the day of the funeral. I wanted to see her once more; but I knew that his mother would not let me come in i f she knew it. So I veiled my lace and went to the bouse. I drew Boar and stood by the t>jer of her who had found that rest whieh waa defied me.—How like a rose, crushed by the temp'NM, she looked, so still and palo I envied her fat tfcat quiet sleap, for she had died for him. The light curls rested grace, fully on the fair cheeks, siiJ her hande were croesed as I had seed them before—but the smile was on ber lip still. I was very then, but his mother oame near her, whisp ering something of onreturaed and hopeless '"ve I and I knew that she pitied her she t•) ma. So 1 lifted up my veil | had nevej plus- - ' face, but she I and sld.a*<ly ° : J.. , d si rieked when she met th y glance, and I ie hear the words—' Take her away! take ber 0 away I for she ie mad ! mad !" s But what made me so: Ay, what made d me so? d And after this I had a lon, long, sickness, • and my my dreams were many. When I 'I recovered my father called me a maniac, and my sisters shrunk from my presence, and I ! - talked all day to myself, and nobody caHed f for me then. They brought me here at last, * and I thought always to be alone; but tbey ' never guessed that he oame with me, till the 1 air is filled with his low silvery tones, and I 1 forgot how cold and cruel every one else r seemed to me. lam happy, too, till they tell me that I killed him, and till f think on 1 that fair creature, and his mother's looks, 1 and then I rave till ho comes.again. —- UNCLE SAB. One of the best natured old asset in this world, is " Uncle Sara." Touch but the old gentleman's vanity—soflsoap .him about progressing, the spirit ot the age, or twit him with what John Bull ie doing to eclipse his glory and you can wheedle him not only out of his brains, but hie pocket book. What a red rag is to mackerel, or flattery to women, so is " opposition lo the British" to the good-natured old gentleman, whose ini tials are stamped on all the mail bags of this Republic. Bait with patriotism—only let your designs on the treasury take the shape of glory, and be sufficiently filled with 4th of July and Buncombe, and your " figgery four" will have Uncle' Sam's "foot in it," in less lime than you could circumvent a gull. During tlio last session of Congress, this amiable trait of our venerated relative, has been more largely exhibited, than on any former occasion. To prevent the English from "annihilating our commerce," he was induced to recommend to Congress the im mediate construction of a fleet of mail steamers to run to all parts of the habitable globe, beginning with Bullocksmithey, and leaving off with Timbuctoo. To prevent the British from monopolising the commerce of Africa, we were to have three sbipa of four thousand tons burthen, to run between New York, Charleston, New' Orleans and Liberia. They were to take out the African mail, and female Africans, and bring back gold dust, yellow fever and tamarinds. They were to do all this—but at what terms ? Why, Con gress was to lend them the money to build the ships at flee per cent., and then allow the company fort >' thousand dollaqi a trip lot the use of them ! This sum, however, was for carrying the mails only—for transporting " our colored brethren" they were to be paid extra. Our " African Mail" at present, consists, we believe, of some twelve hundred letters per year. For forwarding these, as we said before, the company was to receive $40,000 a trip, or $480,000 a year. This, as short division will tell you, is equal to four hun dred dollars per letter! A scheme so wild and extravagant as this, is, one would think, that Patriotism, Gam. mon & Co., would find difficult lo 11 sell" even Uncle Sam with; and yet they did not. ) The Government seized upon the project with as much avidity as a barbarian would exhibit at the sight of a fresh toy. All that the Cabinet could do to forward " the great natioual undertaking" was done. Congress was urged from all quartets, and by idiots of all calibres, to fasten these immense leaches on the treasury. We are happy to say, how ever, that other rascalities, prevented our representatives from extending to this im mense " job," that favor which under other circumstances, it would doubtless have mat with. That the project will be revived, how. over, at the next session admits of no ques tion. Speculators are more tenacious of life than cats, and more persevering than a woman bent on adultery. The only waj for the country to free iteelf frpm these imp?r tun ' , ' e '> >* 10 turn a short corner on these Mail Steamers. I*l con tracts and loans be superceded by free trade and competition. Instead of giving our steamers so much money for carrying the mail—let them have the postage on all tile matter forwarded by them. If such an ar rangement is not satisfactory to the contrac tors, the rererse of it should not be satiifao- I tory to ibq government. If having all the proceeds won't make a business profitable to Patriotism, Gammon it Co., Patnottapi, Gammon & Co., should not urge ita adop tion upon other people. Tax-pavers should awaken to this matter. They can "love their country" without permuting every rogue that " d——a the British," to rob tbe exchecquer. tY" Bounty Land Warrants for 160 acres are selling at about $135, and for 40 acres about S4O. These are the prices allowed for warrants issued for services in the Mexi > oan war. They being assignable before the issue of the patent are worth considerable more than w arrems issued for services in the Horida war, or war of 1813, which are not > assignable until the patent for the land is I issued. . I V Cazenovia, • handsome village of > New York, baa been made tho scene of several abolition gatherings- Wa obaerve i that the inhabitants of tbe village are tired . of having the name of their place associated with those disorganixers, and have signed a i paper, declaring that nine-tenths of the pop- I ulation entirely condemn these anti-slavery I proceedings, and consider the meeting re , ceniiv held there, "anuiaauce." - , '- Mi". frtthart *■■* I DEACON'S SB IT BPS BULL, r ox, MIX X rwx IN A TIGHT rues. Mike Fink, a notorious Buckeye bonier > wae cotemporary with the celebrated Dav; Crockett, and his equal in all things apper taining to human prowess. It waa ever said that the animals to his neighborhood know the orack of his rifle, and would take to their secret hiding placet on the first in timation that Mike was about. Yet strange, though true,' be was but little known beyond bis immediate " settlement." When we knew him, he was an old man —tho blasts of seventy winters bad silvered o'er his head, and taken the elastioity from his limbs; yet iu the whole of his life was Mike never worsted, except on one occasion. To use his own language, ho never " gin in, used up, to anything titer travelled on two tegs or four/?' bn> 4ssC ' That once we want,' said Bill Slasher, as some dozen of us sat in the bar-room of tbe only tavern in the 'settlement.' ' Gin it to ns now, Mike—you've promised long enongh, and you're old now, and oeedn't care,' conlinood Kill. ' Right, right, Bill,' saul .Mike, 'but we'll open with a lichen all round fust, it'll kind o' save my feelin's, I reckon—' ' Thar, that's good. Belter than t'other batrel, if anything!' j 'Well, boys,' commenced Mike, 'you may talk of your scrimmages, tight places, and sich like, and substract 'em altogether in one all mighty big 'un, and theyjiain't no more to be compared to the one I war in, than a dead kitten to an old she bar ! I've foutall kinds of varments, from an Ingen down to a rattlesnake ! and was never wil ling to quitfm4 jpl tins. nncn , and 'twas with a Bull! You see, boys, itewas an awful hot day in August, and 1 war nigh runnin' off into pure ile, when I war thinkin that a dip in the creek mout save me. Well thar was a mighty r.ice place in Deacon Smith's medder for partie'lar business. So I wen'l down amongst the bushes to un harness. I jlst hauled the old red shirt over my head, and were thinking how scrump tious a feller of my size would feel a waller in' round in that ar water, and was jest 'bout goin' in, when I seed the old Deacon's Bull a makin' a B-line to whar 1 stood. I kuow'd the old cuss, he'd scared more people than all the parsons of the 'settlement,' and com mighty near killin'a few. Thinks I, Mike, ; you're in ralher a tight place—get your fix ins on, for he'll be driven' them big horns o' his in yer bowels afore that lime ! Well, you'Uheyte try vaonint osteal, 1 reckor. The SuH wir on one side o' the creek and I on t'other, and tire way he made the 'sile' fly for a while, at ia he war diggin my grave war distreosin.' 'Come on ye bellerin old heathen,' said I, 'and don't be standin thar; for as the old Deacon says o' the devil, 'yer not comely to look on.' This kind o' reached his under standing and made him more wishous ; for he hoofed a little like, and made a drive.— And, as I don't like to stand in any body's way, I gin hiin plenty sea room. So he kind o' passed by me and come out on t'other side; and, as tbe oaptain o' the Mud Swamp Rangers would say, 'bout lace for anot her charge.' Thongh I war ready for 'im this time, he come nigh runniU' foul o' me ! So I made up my mind the next time he went out he wouldn't go alone. So when he paseed I grappled his tail, and be pulled me out on the r OMMiIHNto were both a' top o' the bank, old brindle stopped, and war about coming round agin, when 1 begin pullin t'other way. Well, 1 reckon this kind o'riled bim, for he fust stood slock Mill, and looked at me for a spell, and then commenced pawin and bellerin, and the way be made his bind gearin play in the air war beautiful! But it wani't no use, he could'nt tech me, so he kind o'stopped to get wind for suthin devilish, as I judged by tbe way ba started! By this tins I had made up my mind to stick to hit tail as long as it stuck to his back bone! I didn't like to holler for help, nuther, kase it war agin my nrinciple, and then the Deacon bad preachin at his house, C!? fl " warn'l far off nuiher. I know'd ff he beem tho noisd, the whole congregation would oura uC!* n ; a ' | warn't a married map, and had a kind o hankerin' arter a gal that war thar, I didu't feel as if I would like to ba sesd in that predicament. ' So,' says, 'you old serpent, do yer c.us sedest! And so he did; for he drug me over every briar and slump in the field, un til I war swealin and bleedin like a fat bar with a pack ol hounds at his heels. And my name ain't Mike Fink, if the o!4 critter's tail and I didn't blow out sometimes at a dead level with the critter's back! So you may calculate we made good time. Bimeby he slackened a little, and than I had 'im for a spell, for I jist dropped behind a stump and thar snubbed the critter! Now, says I, you just pull up this ere white oak—break yer tail—or hold on till I blow ! 'Well, while I waa settin thar, an idea stiuck me that 1 had better be a gettiu out ot this in some way. Bat how, adiactly was tbe pint! If 1 let gO*and run, he'd be afoul o' me sure 1 So lookirr at tbe matter in all Its bearina, I cum to the conclusion that I'd better let somebody know whar I waa 1 So I gin a yell loader than a locomotive whistle and it warn't long Wore 1 wed tbe Deacon's two dogs a corain down like* as if they war seoin which could get that fust. I know'd who they war arter—they'd jine the Ball agin me, 1 war sartin, for they were awfhl wenemons and had a spite agin me. So, aes I, obi brindle, as ridin ia as cheap as walkin, on this route, if you've no objec f " ' - ™V S ; :, - , . I. n|i ■ mr-mmmmkmgm n,- f n , „| 1 lions, I'LL jiat take a 'lock passage on that ar back of yourn ! So I wasn't long in gettin ir, astride o' bim, and then if you'd been thar, ry you'd sworn thar warn't nothin human ir- in that at mix! the site flew so orfully as the m critter and I rolled round the field—one dog id one side and one on t'other, try in to clinch e my feet-! I pray'd and cuneed, and cussed i. and prayed, until I couldn't tell which I did 9, last—and neither warn't of any use, they d war so orfully mixed up. 'Well, I reckon I rid an hour in this way, n when ray old brindle thought it war time to d stop and take in a supply o' wind and cool n off a liule ! So when he got round a tree s that stood thar, he naturally halted! Now t i. says I, old boy, you'll lose one passenger) i, sartin. jSo I jiMclnnt npon a branch kalke -0 latin-4o roost thar till I starved, afore I'd be rid round in that way any longer. I war a • making traoks for the top of tho tree, wtien e 1 heard suthin a makin an orful buzzin over head. 1 kinder looked up and if thar warn't ] —well, that's no use o' swearin now, but it ] war the biggest hornet's neat ever built. 'You'll gin in now, I reckon, Mike, case !| thar's no help for you. But an idea struck i' me then, that I'd stand a better chance a rtdin the old Bull than whar I war. Says I, r old teller, if yon'll hold on," I'll - ride you to (he next station, anyhow, lei that be whar 1 it will! So I jist dropped aboard bim agin, , and looked aloft to see what I bad gained in r changin quarters; and, gentlemen, I'm a i liar if thar warn't nigh a half bushel of the , stingin varmints ready to pitch into me when ) the word 'go' was gin ! We'l, I reckon tbey I got it, for 'all hands' started for our com pa - ny! Some on 'ent hit the dogs—about a j • quart stuck me, and the rest charged on old t brindle. This time the dogs • led off (pal, i 'dead' bont for the old Deacon's and as soon j > as old brindle and I could get under way we ] I followed. And as I war only a deck passen i ger, and had nothin to do with steerin the | - craft, I swore if I had we wouldn't run that channel anyhow! i 'But, as I said afore, the dogs took the - lead—brindle and I next, and the hornets ■ dre'kly arter. The dogs yellin—brindle bcl- 1 I terin, and the hornets buzztn and stingin ! ; I 1 didn't say nothin, for it warn't no use.— j I Well, we'd got within two hundred yards of j > the house, and the deacon hem us and cum i out. 1 seed him hold up his hands and turr. , white! I reckon he was a prayin, then, for: - he didn't expect to be called for so soon, and ] ' t wasn't long, neither, afore the hull congre- | , gallon, men women, and chiklreo, cum out, I %nd then all bands went to yallin ! None > of them had the fust notion that brindle and ) I belonged lo this world. I jist turned my ■ head aud passed the congregation ! I seed that run wonld be up soon, for brindle could i not turn an inch from a fence that stood dead ' ahead ! ' " Well, we reached that fence, and I went ' ashore, over the old critter's head landing on r t'other side, and lay thar stunned. It warrv't ' long afore some of 'em as war not so scared, ! ' cum round to see what I war! For all hands 1 kalkelated that the bull and I belonged to- ' 1 gether! But when brindle walked on by ' himself, tbey seed how it war, and one of ! 'em said, 'Mike Fink has got the wust of a ; scrimmage onee in his life!' ' Gentlemen, from that day I dropped tbe ' courtin bizziness, and never stroke to a gal ' since! And when my hunt is up on this ! ' yeaith, there won't be any mote FINIS! and 1 ps all owin' to Deacon Smith's Brindle Ritli!' Raw Silk as a Dress- Mr*. Swisshelm, after giving a long arti ( cla on economical living, in her nsual logi cal style, goes on lo say, that in her opinion , raw silk is the cheapest of all materials fori , dress, and publishes the following from n; , friend of her, in proof of her experience : "A friend from Morgan county, O, told us : , of a girl there who had been seized with the , Multicaulis mania during its prevalence in , this country.—She got silk worms and mul , berry plants, and raised a great many co coons. It did not pay to sell them, and she [ reeled, spun and wove them into cloth, and , made herself a dress. It was as coarse as i ten hundred linen, and of the original color, 1 a pa!* gray- For some years she wore it as a "Sunday sml," then took to wearing it all week, washing and ironing it P" Saturday Ifi havait ready for meeting next day. This had continued a couple of years, and the , last our informant knew of the dress and its , enterprising owner, they were both likely to r reach a good old age, ane (he dress pass on I to the next generation. She ia of opinion , that that gray silk drew ia washed and iron , ed every Saturday goes to meeting every , Sabbath, and will, tor the next fifty years; r but we know no silk fabric for sale which r would bo equally tenacious of life.—We , should greatly rejoice that some such article j eoukt be introduced, and also the taste to t wear it." s CF Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's lec t urea hava set the good people of Pittsburg s into a flurry. Sinoe ha left, the newspapers I have boon engaged on tbe knottiest pom's of II metaphysics, and the publio ia in doubt as to d what ia orthodox. 0 tW Lady Blessing ton said, and surely a she ought to know, " those who are formed >r to win general admiration are seldom calcu li latsd to bestow individual happinew. 11 1 OF It you make love to a widow who has i, a daughter twenty yaaro younger than her. ia salf, begin by declaring that you really !• thought they were sisters. a . ■ ' "■ : *"' v ' No Man Know est Bis Sepulchre. ■V WM. C. BRYANT. When he, who, irom tbe scourge of wrtmg, Aroused tbe Hebrew tribes to fly, Saw the fair region, promised long, And bowed hipi on the hilts lo die; God mad# his grave, lo men unknown, Where Moab's rocks a vale intokl, And laid the aged seer alone To slumber while the world grows old. Thus still, where'er the good and just Close tne dim eye on life and pain. Heaven watches o'er their sleeping dust, Till the pure spirit comes again. Though nameless, trampled, and forgot, His servant,s humble ashes lie, Yet God has marked and sealed the spot, To call iu inmate to the sky. v Theatrical Criticism. The following dramatic bulletin, which appeared in a Dublin paper on the first ap pearance of the celebrated JJfs. Siddons in that city, is quite as good a critique and as tree from the blunders as some which have appeared in certain journals more recently : "On salt4tey, May 30, 1784, Mrs. Sid dons, about whom all the world has been talking, exposed her beautiful and lovely person, for the first time, at the Smock Alley Theatre, in the bewitching, tearful and all melting character of Isabella. From the re peated panegyrics in the impartial London newspapers, we were taught to expect the sight of a heavenly angel; but how were we supernaturally surprised into the most awfol joy at beholding a mortal goddess, The house was crowded with hundreds more than it oould hold, with thousands of admi ring spectators who went away without ob taining a sight. This extraordinary phenom ena of tragic excellence ! the star of Mel pomene ! this comet of the stage ! this sun in the firmament of the muses! this moon of blank verse ! this queen and prince of tears! thi* Donnelian of the poisoned bowl! this empressof the pistol and dagger I the chaos of Shakspeare ! this world of weeping clouds! the Terpsichore of the curtains and scenes! this Prosperpi.ne of fire and earth quake 1 this Katterlelto of wonders ! exceed ed expectations, went beyond belief, and soared above all the natural powers of de ssription ! She was nature itself! she was the most exquisite work of art! she wa* the very daisy, primrose, tube rose, furze blossom,jgill-flower, waH flower, cauli flower and rose mary ! tn short she was a Roquet of Parnassus! Where expectation was raised so high, it was thought she would be injured, by her appearance ; but it was the audience who were injured, sever al of them fainted before the curtain was drawn up. When she came to the soene of parting with her wedding ring, ah ! what a sight was there ! The very fiddlers in the orches tra, albeit unused to the melting mood, blub bered like hungry children, crying for their bread and butter; and when the bell rang for music between the acts, the tears fell from ihe bassoon player's eyes in such plenti ful showers that they choaked the finger stops; and making a spont of that instru ment, poured in snch torrents on the first fiddler's book, that not seeing the overture was in two sharps, the leader of the band actually played in one flat. But the sobs and sighs of the groaning audience, and the noise of the cork drawing ftom the smelling bot tles, prevented the mistakes between the flats and sharps being discovered. One hundred and nine ladies faiffied, forty six went into fits, and ninety-six had strong hysterics ! The world will hardly credit the truth, when they are told that fourteen, chil dren, five women, one hundred tailors, and six common councilmen were actually drowned in the inundation of tears that flow ed from the galleries, the slid* and Ihe boxes to inorease the briny pond, in the pit the wa . ter was three feet deep, and the people that wsre obliged to stand upon the benches, were in the position, up to their ancles iu tears! "An act of parliament against her playing any mote, will certainly pass." •' Dang me, !f i don'i b'lievd [he world's a wheelbarrow," said a jolly inebriate as he rolled on the pave, "and I'm the wheel re volving'on the haxis. Now I'm in the mud," continued he, as he fell headlong into the gutter, " and now I'm on dry land," as he fetched up on the curb stone. His conclu ding remark, as bis boots followed his head down an open cellar-way, was—"now the wheel is broke, and the wehicle is out of re pair.— Cambridge Chronicle. Never be influenced by external appear ances in forming your judgment of a person's worth. This is an important rule; for many a noble spirit ia covered by the habiliments oj poverty, while not unfrevuently, a showy exterior conceals a villain of the basest kind. To tome men it is indispensable to be worth money, far without it they would be worth nothing. RBDVCTION or FABE— The fare on the Reading Railroad has been reduced to $2, 75 and $2,25 between Pottsvillo and Phla delphia, making a reduction of 75 emits. . BT It ia said that Prince Albert call': Queeft Victoria his reign-deer. Mi"' not with equal propriety call hi" beau* not dl -a her reig £*#• Mlars fM- Aim. NUMBER U. Cruris tor AUJWs •* CklekeM. "Is this the learned pigl "Yes " "How do yer sell your tieket* V "Box tickets twenty five cents—prome nade twelve and a half." "I gnoss I'll take a promenade—where does it lake yer V' * 'Tp and down the side walk till the (day's out- Stand aside and mako room for the ladies." Scene close* with a gawkey young man slnring through an enlarged knot hole. To offset trouble, always hare a large stock of hope ou hand. This was Macaw - bar's plan. The very night he went to jail for debt, he sent to an nrehttoci to sail what it would cost to decorate a house with han ging gardens, "in case any thing should turn up" that would warrant the outlay. How much better was this than applying a razor to your jnglar, or charcoal fumes to your pulmonary arrangements. Whether men ate '-comfortable" or not, can be as welt told by the manner they play with their watch chains, as by eraiging | their ledgers. While the poor devil with a note to take np, will tug at it as if it were one ot the shackles that binds his heart down, your double ch'.nned millionaire, will give it one of those subdued pros.terous tit tle twirls that speaks ot a well fed pocket book in every gyration. Senator Van Schoonhoven lectures on Monday evening next, before the Sandlake Lyceum. Subject, "The nutritive properties of charcoal as an article of human food." Altfer the lecture, Senator Babcock will read the 13th chapter of Isaiah, and sing Old Hnndred. A collection of flannel dickies - for the interior of Afriou, will conclude tho performance. While some men seem born with firty six es to their breeches, others appear to eflpin I into the world with scaling ladders in both hands. The former may own a gold mire and will still die poor; while tho others will become distinguished, though their first climb was over the fence of an almshouse. I Dobbs has quite a singular veneration for the West' He says he would tatber bo knocked down by- a man from Ohio, than be picked up by the citizen oj any other statu in the confederacy. NAPOLEON—A gentleman who slew mora men in a month than all the doctors In En rope did in a year. To increase the price of mourning goods, it :s supposec that one hero is worth two choleras. Never put off till to morrow what yon can do to day. Procrastination is the thief of time. Collar him, therefore, as you Woubt any other felon. "Let us wait" has rained more men than "Let us gamble." Your.g ladies educated to despise mankind, generally finish their studies by running uway with the footman. r MODF.RN SCIENCE.—'DO yoo think people are troubled as much with fiea-baitomary now, doctor, as they used to be before they discovered the anti-bug bedstead!' asked Mrs Partington of a doctor of the old school. who attended upon the family wharo she was staying. "Phlebotomy, madam,' saiJ the doctor, gravely, *is a remedy, not a disease.' 'Well, well,'.replied she ; 'no w oct roan gets 'em mixed up, there is so mar.y ol' em; we never heard in old times of trousers try the throat, or embargoes in the hea*, or ne urology all over us, or consternation in the bowels, as we do nowadays. But it's on ill wind that don't blow no body no good, and lite doctors flourish on it like a green base tree. But of course they don't have any thing to do with it—they can't make 'em come or go.' The doctor stepped out with a genteel bow, and the old lady watched him till his cabriolet turned turned the corner, her mind revolving on the intricate subject of cause and effect. ■— 4 ♦•None Livcth to Mimself." God has written upon the flower that sweetens the air, upon the breeze that rocks it npon its stem, upon the rainbow that re freshes the smallest sprig of moss that roars its head in ths desert, upon tho ocean that rocks every swknmer iu its chamber*, upon every pencilled shell that sleeps in the cav erns of the deep, as well as upon tho.mighty sun that warms and cheers the millions of creators* that live in his light—upon all ha has written, "None of us livetlr to himself* IW The Carbon County Gazette, in an swer to an article iu the Tamaqoa Legion, favorable to a new county, with Thmaqna aa the county seat, suggests as a substitute for this project the propriety of Tamaqna peti tioning the Legislature to be attachsd to Carbon Co. LAWTEM.— It is a remarkable fact that ev ery man that has filled the gitberns"" - -' choir of the State of New Yorl -of George Clinton ' front ih? Hunt, has bee-" WMhlog lon .u * -I W Out C ( W * h * t* Neir York last we'v ' ' by %■ '■ j C'ty Inspector |p havo ■*— - : "| nation / ' * <
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers