THE STAR OF HIE NORTH. • •*. w. Wttvw ProprlrtorO Troth and Rifflt God and our Country. VOLUME 6. THE STAR OP TRE NORTU 1# published every Thursday Morning, by R. W. WEAVER. OFFICII — Up stairs, in the nets brich building on the south side of Main street, third square below Market. Temstr—Two Dollars per annum, if paid within six months from the time of sub scribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription re ceived for a less period than six months: no discontinuance permitted un'il all arrearages are paid, unless iff the oplior. of the editor. AbVKSTiSRMRSTS not exceeding one square will be inserted three limes tor one dollar, anil twenty-five cents for each additional in sertion. A liberal discount will be made to h'dle who ydvertise by the year. SLANDER. A whisper woke the air— A soft light lone and low, Yet barbed with shame and won ; Now might it only perish there! Nor farther go. Ah ma! a quick and eager ear Caught up the little meaning sound I Another voice has breathed it clear, And so it wanders round, From ear to lip— from iip to ear— Until it reached a gentle heart, And thai—it broke. It was the only heatt it found, The only heart 'twas meant >o find. When first its accents woke ; It reached :hat tender heart at fast, And that —it broke. low as it seemed to other ears, it came—a thunder-crash to hers— That fragile girl so fair ami gay— -That guileless girl so pure and true ! 'Tie said a lovely humming bird That in a fragrant lily lay, And dreamed the Summer morn away, Was killed by but a gun's report. Some idle boy had fired in sport ! The vary sound —a death-blow came I And thus her happy heart, that beat With love anil hope,so fast and sweet, (Shrined in its Lily too , For who the maid that knew, Rut owned the delicate flower like gtace Ot her young form and face .') When first that word Her light heart heard, It fluttered like the frightened bird, Then shut ite wings and sighed, And with a silent shudder— died I FRANCES S. OSGOOD. How Bttsnoi'i Father Disposed or the Old Horse. . My father, besides Deiig in the mercan tile line ir.d keeping the village tavern, also ran a freight wagon to Norwalk, and kept a email Itvfery stable. He was fond of a joke and hail a sly, peculiar, waggish kink in his nature Which led him frequently to turns of some petty cute tricks. On on e occasion a young man named Nelson Beers, arplied to him for the use of a horse to ride to Danbu ry, a distance of three miles. Nelson was an apprentice to the shoemaking business, nearly out of hie time ; was not overstocked with brains, and liveJ a mile and a half east of our village. My father thought it would be better for Nelson to make his short journ on foot, than to be ai the expense of hiring a horse but he did not tell him so. We had an old horse named 'Bub,' that having tea ched an age beyond his teens, was turned nut in the bog lot near our house to die. He was liberally a 'living skeleton,' and was much in the same condition of the Yankees nag, which was so weak his owner had to hire his neighbor's horse to help bim draw hie last breath. My father, therefore, in reply to Nelson'a application, told him that the livery horses were all out, and he had ndne at home except a famous 'race horse,' which he was keeping in low flesh in order to get him in proper trim to win a great race soon to come off. 'Oh do let uie have him, Uncle Phile, (that was my father's appellation ] I will ride him very carefully and not injure him in the least,' said Nelson Rears. 'He is too valuable an animal to rink in the band* of a young man like you,' res ponded my father. Nelson continued to importune, and my father to play off, until it was finally agreed that the horse could be had on the condition thai he ahould in no case be rode faster than • walk or slow trot, and that he should be fed four quatts of oats at Danbhry. Nelson started on his rosiuante, looking for all the world as if he was on a mission to the 'car rion CfOws,' but he felt every inoh a man, for he fancied himself astride of the great est rkoe horse in the country, and realized fhsi s freet responsibility was resting upon his shoelders, for the fast words of my fath er to him were, 'Nelson, if any accident should happen to this animal while under yout charge you oould not pay the damage in e lifetime of labor.' Old 'Bob' was duly oated and watered at Danbury, and at the end of several hours, Mr. Beers mounted him and started for Balhel. He concluded to take tho 'great psistare' road home. That being the name of a new road out through ewamps -mead ows, as a ehorter route to out village. Net eon, for onoe forgetting his responsibility, probably tried the speed of his race horse, ■Bd soon broke him down. At all events, •sinethtog occurred to weaken old Bob's nerves, for he came to a standstill and Nol eon wa* forced to dismount. The horse trembled with fright. A small brook was running through the bog nt the roadside, and Bear*, thinking that his 'race horse' j v seeded n drink, led him into the stream.—* j ■ Foor cid Bob got stuck in the mud, and ' 'not having strength enough to withdraw his , list, quietly closed bis eyes, soJ like a pat- | BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY. OCTOBER 12, 1854. riarch a* he was, he dropped into '.he soft bed that was awaiting him, and gave dp the ghost without a single kick. No language oan describe the consterna lion of poor Beers. He could not believe his eyes He tried to open those of his horse, but it was no go. He placed his ear at the mouth ol poor old 'Bob' but took it away in utter dismay. The breath had cea sed. At last Nelson groaning as he thought of meeting my lather, and wondered wheth er eternity; added to time, would be long e nough for him to earn the value of the horse, took the bridle from the 'dead bred,' and unbuckling the girth, drew off the saddle 1 and placing it on his own back, trudged [ gloomy toward our village. It was about sundown when my father es espieJ his victim coming up the street with the saddle an 1 bridle thrown serosa his snulders, his faoe wearing a look of the most complete dispair. My father was cer tain that old 'Bob' had departed this life, and he chuckled inwardly and quietly, but in standtly assumed a most serious countenance. Poor Beers approached more slowly and mournfully than if he was following a dear Iripnd to the grave. When he came within hailing distance, my father called out : 'Why, Beers, it is possible you have let that rude horse run away with you ?'■ 'Oh, worse than that, worse than that, un cle Phile,' groaned Nelson. 'Worse than that I Then he has been stolen by some judge of valuable horses! Uh, what a fool I was to intrust him to any body ?' exclaimed father, with well feigned sorrow. 'No, he aint stolen, uncle Phile,' said Nelson. 'Not stolen? well I am glad of that, for I shall recover him again, but where is he ? 1 am afraid yon have lamed'him. 'Worse than that,'drawled the unfortunate Nelson. 'Well, what is the matter, wkare is he ? what nils him V asked my father. Ob, I can't tell you —I oan'l tell you ? sai l Beers with a groan. ' But you must tell me, returned my fath re. 'lt will break your heart, groaned Beers. 'To be sure it will, if he is seriously in jured,' replied my father,'but where is he 1 'He is dead,' said Beers, as he nerved him self up for the announcement, and then clo sing his eyes, sunk into a chair completely ovsraoma with fright. My father gave a groan and started Nel son to his leel again. Ail the sensations of pain, despair, harror and intense agony were depicted to the life [on my father's counte nance. 'Oh, uncle Phile, uncle Phile; don't be too hard with me, I wouldn't have had it hap pen for all the world.' said Beers. You can never recompense me for the hone replied my father. 'I know it, I know it, uncle Phile. I can only work for you as long as ! live, but you are satisfied, after my apprenticeship is fin ished,' returned Beers. After a short time my fatlierbecame ctrlm, and although apparently not reconciled to his loss he asked Nelson how mnch he sup. posed he ought to owe him. I don't know—l am no judge of blooded horses, but I have been told that they are worth fortunes sometimes; replied Beers. 'And mine was tho best in the world, said my father,, and in such a perfect condition for running—all bone and sinew. O yes, I saw that,' said Beers, despnridinz l> but with a frankness that showed he did not wish to deny the great claims of the horse and hia owner. 'Well,'said my father with a sigh, 'as f have no desire to go to law on the subject, we had belter agree on the value of the horse. You may mark on a slip of paper what sum you may think you ought to owe me for him, and I will do the same: we can then compare notes and aee how far we dif fers.' ' I will mark,' said Beers, fbut uncle Phile don't be too hard with me. I will be as easy as I can, and endeavor to make some allowance for your situation' 'said my father, but Nelspn when I think how valuable that horse was, of course I must mark something in the neighborhood of the amount of cash I could haye received for him. I believe, however, Nelson, thtt you are an honest young man and are willing to do what you think is about sight. I therefore wish to caution you not to mark down one cent more than you really thiuk undec..lhe circumstances you ought to pay me wben you are able and for which you are nnw willing (o giv<s me your note of hand. You will recollect that I told you when you applied for the horse, that I did not wiah to let him go.' Nelson gave my father a grateful look, and assented to all he said. About a doien of our joke-loving neighbors were witness ing the scene with great apparent solemnity. Two slips of paper were procured, my lath er marked one, and alter much hesitation Beers wrote on the other. 'Well, let us aee what you havo marked,' said my father. 'I suppose you wil| think it too low,' re plied Beers handiug my faihei the slip of paper ' Only three hundred and seventy-five dol lars !' exclaimed my father, reading the pa per. 'Well, there is a pretty specimen of j gratitude for you !' I Nelson looked bumbled, .and could not muster courage enough to ask my father I what he had marked | finally, one of our neighbors asked my father to show his paper. He did so. He had ma rked 'six and a quarter emit /' Out neighbor read it aloud, and a roar of laugh ter ensued, which fairly lifted Beers to his feet. It was some lime before he could comprehend the joke, and when he became fully aware thtt no hardi was done, he was the happiest fellow I ever remember seeing. 'By thunder!' aid he, 'l've got a dollar and thirty-seven and a half cents, and darn ed if I don't treat that out as free as air; I was never sceared so bad in all my life.' Nelson stood treat for the company, and yet having half his money left on hand, he trudged home a happier if not a wiser man. HON. C. R. BUCK A LEW, The Wilkesbarre llecord, edited by Wm. P. Miner, has during the past summer been engaged in firing off silly squibs at Mr. Buckalew. A frendly pen, whose master we recognize as the ablest writer in the valley, more than defends Mr. Buckalew against this assault of envy ; and we have several limes read the article with as much pleas ure from its manner as its matter. In this cooler hour of reflection the friends of our absent neighbor will be glad to hear the echo of their feeling from Luzerne.— ED. STAU. ' Age is honorable undoubtedly , but has it the apology of youth for indirection, want of candor and the common charities of life? Does the spirit of Envy survive all the ge nial currents in the heart of age ? The af firmative to this question is painTui to us. But to what other source can be ascribed the Parthian darts flung all summer at the Senator from this district, Charles R. Bucka lew. Mr. Buckalew grew from the stump. The mountains of Fairmounl was his home, and his was truly the poor boy's heritage— "latw birth and Iron fortunes." The rich valleys of Chester and Wyoming grew no food and amiled no warm encour agements for him. But nature loves (hat her nurselings of genius should soring from her own mould and feed from her own un polluted breast. And the poor boy in the earliest bloom of manhood has exhibited a wealth of intellect, and a splendor of elo - quence which has crowned him and his dis trict with honor. From his "Retreat" could not the old Eagle give one shriek of joy and impulse to the young, snaring and no ble bird from another nest—from that Eyrie high up in the bleakest winter crags where the storm spirits revelled over desolation ? It was iu fiis bosom—who can doiib't It. But between the old bird and the snn, strait in whose bright eye the young Eaglet was soaring upon so gall ant a pinion, stood an other figure!! It the solicitude and anxiety for the other, the source ol all this bitterness against Mr, Buckalew? Is it painful to witness the larg er shaduw thrown by the "little ragged boy from the Berwick Turnpike ?" ft it humili ating to reflect that the boy who picked up his education among the stones and beech nuts should have leaped far ahead of the child of many hopes and an expensive cul ture ? If such be the motives for abuse, is it worthy of a man who many years has figured in literature and in Congress ? Ask the entire Senate, political opponents as well a friends—ask every man who has day after day witnessed his spleu.iid tri umphs upon the floor of that body. They wilt one and all tell you that Buokalew is a marvel—that in the Senate, or out of it, they nowhere know his equal. They will tell you of his radical principles, his integrity, and the vast sums which his unyielding hos tility to every form of speculation upon the public Treasury, has saved the Common wealth. Is it because he is absent from I home, and this is deemed a favorable and above all a safe lime to sneer ah d cry him down, that he is attacked? Is it a test of courage to attack the absent ! Is it an evi- I denoe of fine sensibilities ? it is said that Mr. Buckalew naturally is of a feeble body—suffering from cancerous affect ions of the breast, and worn out, with four years labor in the Senate and his pro fession, was in a dangerous condition .of health. Some physicians in HarrUburg and Philadelphia, attracted by his ingenious character and high promise, advised him to travel during the summer. This he was ton poor to do. His oircumslanoe* and condi tion, through some friend, reached the ears of die Secretary of State, who, needing a safe and trusty agent to carry some impor tant despatches, proffered the duty to Mr. Buckalew, who accepted it. This is the statement, and we presume it is coireot. There is no salary attached to the duty— not a dollar—the actual expenses of tha dip on ly being paii. And thia is the grievance a bout which the ,columns of a newspaper have been pretty well occupied alt summer. During Mr. Polk's administration, James Cooper, then a leading Whig member of the Legislature, now Whig United Statea Sena tor, was in failing health. His friends rep resented the fact to Mr. Polk, and solicited for him a Diplomatic appointment in Italy. Although a political opponent, Ihe President, feeling the natural sympathies of a gener ous and warm hearted man, complied with Ihe request. Mr. Cooper was appointed by a democratic President, and confirmed by a democratic Senate, and remained in Italy, on democratic partonage doling his pleas ure. The gentlemen who are now so dis turbed by Mr. Buckale-v'e appointment, launched no thunders then. Tho thing was at? right, because Mr. Cooper was a Wnig; sad was not deemed am standing in any body's way h*fe, locally. .And proud are we mdeed, that no democrat objected to (lie matter. it is well known that Mr. Cooper is rarely in his seat in the Senate, for which he draws every dollar of his pay. It is equally well known that he is the President of the Sunbury and Erie Railroad, the duties ol whioh office he attends to and receives a handsome salary. Here is time dus to the United States & paid for oy the United States, expended in the service of a giganlio cor poration. But any reference to so glaring a delinquency on (he part a high Whig offi cial would not aid in abolitiouiz ng this dis trict, We desire to excite no Galphin chol ics, but if the gentlemen who are so solicit ous about Mr. Buckalew, will attend to the small comings ot their own Whig agent*, they will find full occupation lor their facul ties. What are you Living fort Life is a good or an evil, a benefit or an in jury a blessing or a curse, according to the will of its possessor. Man's destiny is in his own hands and upon himself must rest the blame, if it be one of interminable wretch edness. To that man who lives only for the gratification of his passions, who seeks his happiness iri the pleasures, the honors, or e moluments of this world who is incited to ac tion by tho goadings of ambition, or the de sires of fame, life is only an evil and a curse. It were better for him not to be, than after toiling and struggling lor vanities, to go dowji to misery and endless woe! "He aims too low, who aims beneath the skies. "I have created man for mv glory," sailh the Eternal, " and my glory will I not give to another." Regardless of this declaration, myriads are living for their own glory; self is the god who claims their highest devotion, and upon his altar, sacrifices, never so costly, are cheer fully laid ! Reader! what are you living for ? Has thirst fur fame taken posses sion of your being, and, deceived by his sy ren's voice, are you willingly bartering heav en' s glories for the applause of men, whose breath is in their nostrils? Does (he glittering gold tempt you, and, in order to its acquisi tion, are you willing to forsake home and friends, and obliterate all yout social affec tions? Do the fading honors of earth present more attractions to your soul than the imper ishable glories of that city whose walls are jasper, and whose streets are gold? What are you living for? For yourself, or for God? For baubles of time, or for the substantial izes of eternity? , Aged man' what are you living for? You whose bead is whitened by the storms of many winiers, you whose brow once so smooth and fair, is now all furrowed by the band of time; whose step once so firm, is now so feeble, whose eye which shone so bright ly, is now dimmed by age; yoij whom a thou sand fearful vices warn, are soon to pass from earth—what are you living for? Remember that Ihe hoary head is a "crown of glory," only,"if it be found in the way of righteous ness!" And you—jou active, business-like look ing man, just iu the prime of life—wha! { are you living for ? As you go forth mom ' iug bv morning, with a firm tread and a self I confident air, to yonr counting house, your field, or workshop, is it to fay up treasures on earth, or do you feel yourself to be the ; almoner on God's bounty to the * perishing I poor around you ? Are you reaping the to wards of labor blessed bv God, and are the "Lord's poor," whom "you have always with you," perishing for want of life's necessa- ' ries ? Are you a Christian professor, living in a land of Bibles and ordinances, yourself indebted to Christianity for all the blessings you enjoy, and do you retain in your own possession "the Lord's money," which he has given to yon to aid iv disseminating the gospel over the whole earth ? "Give an ac count oi yourself." What are you living for ? Young man, endowed with intellect, en ergy and will, —What are yon living for ' Is the world rising up before you in its boasted magnificence, and presenting its extravagant piomises to lure you to its service, or is your expanding vision taking in Ihe imperishable rewards of adhesion to God, and under the influence of high resolve, are you laying all your redeemed powers a voluntary sacrifice upon his altar, lu be employed for his glory ? God has ulaims upon you, (he world baa claims upon you: friends, neighbors—all have claims upon you, Opportunities and privilege will soon end, the grave will soon be yoar home, the earth your mantle eternity your sphere of existence ! What aru you living for 1 Heeding an Auctioneer. Those who ate in Ihe habit of attending auction aales, know that when the auction eer is trying to get bids from ■ dull audi ence, he will sometimes say : "The first man that opens his mouth lb bid, shall have tha goods.;" intending to creep out of Ihe bargain if the bid should be too insignifii • cant. As upon receiving a bid of three cents, he replies, "Oh, you ain't a man, you're a boy ;" or, "Your mouth was open already." An auctioneer was headed on thia dodge at Pittsburg, not long since as follows : Auctioneer: The first men who bide on this shall have it. Countryman : I j bids tree cents; dot ish my knife. A.: Your knife for three cents ? Are you the man 1 C. ( Yaw, Mann, del ish my, riame.i , A.: Matin—eh—well—but—you are not the first man. I thought that Adam was the first man. C-: Yaw, dat ish it ; Adam, dat ish my name, top, Adam Maun. Now you gif me my knife, I gif you tree oeuts. The kuife was handed over, and the sate ad journed for ihpl evening * The Amenities of Political Life, The New York National Democrat pub lishes the following letter written by the late Daniel Webster during the session of Congress of 1850, when Mr: Dickinson, by his course in regard<o the Compromise Bills, had defeated Ids re-election to the Senate. The sentiments of it are as compli mentary to Mr. Dickinson as honorable to the writer. None but a truly great man could thus write in oommeudation of the characlet and actiou of a political opponent: •'WASHINGTON , Sep. 27th, 1850. My Dear Sir : Our companionship in the Senate is dissolved. After this long and most important session ynu are about to re • turr. to your home : and I shall try to find leisure to visit mine. I hope we may meet each other again two months hence, for the discharge of our duties, in our respective stations in the government. But life is un certain ; and 1 have not felt willing to take leave of you, without placing in your hands a note, containing a few words which I wish to say to ynu. In the earlier part of our acquaintance, my dear sir, occurrences took place, which I remember with constantly increasing re gret and pain ; bscause, the more I have known of you, the greater haa been my es teem for your character, and my respeot for your talents. But it is your noble, able, manly, and patriotic conduct, in support of the great measure of this session, which has entirely won my heart, and secured my highest regard. I hope you may livelong, to serve your country. Ido not think you are likely to see a crisis in which you may be able to do so much, either for your own distinction, or lor the public good ; you have stood, where others have fallen : you, have advanced with firm and manly steps where others have wavered, and faltered, and fal len back : and for one I desire to thank you, and to commend your conduct, out of the fulness ol an honest heart. Tli is falter needs no reply ; it is, lam a ware, of very little value; but I have thought you might be willing to receive it, and perhaps to leave it where it would be seen by those who shall come after you. 1 pray you whan you reach your own threshold, to remember me most kindly to your wife and daughter; and I remain, my dear air, wiih the truest esteem, your friend and obedient servant, DANIEL WEBSTER. Honorable Daniel S. Oick.inson, United Slates Senate." When these two distinguished gentlemen were in (he Senate of the United States to gether, (the Democrat says) there was a period when the force of party feeling had led to a personal alienation between them. This continued, to the subsequent regret of both, for some time; when however, the country was menaced with danger by the assaults of internal enemies, Mr. Webster end Mr. Dickinson, like true patriot*, for getting their personal quarrel, nobly united in its defence, and thus cemented a friend ship which continued unabated up to the death of the "defender of the Constitution." The Piogrcs* of Discovery. No man can tell where improvements.in the arts will slop, or what discoveries are yet to be involved from the still wide and unbounded unknown. When we think of what was a century ago, and what is now; when we review the inventions which have been made during that period, and pass them before the mini l , tbey almost seem too numerous and great lor our belief. In 1805 ihere were only four steam engines in the United Slates ; not a steamboat, not a railroad, not a locomotive. Few machines of any kind were made then, and scarcely any kind of manufacturing operations con ducted. In 1810, there was not an estab lished line of telegraph in our country; now we have no less than twenty-three or four thousand miles of wires.—The Daguer reotype is but > lew years of age, and the vulcanization of India rubber no older. In the manufacture and improvement of vari ous tools, vast progress has been made in a very few years. The printing presj, from the alow bund machine, printing a few hundred copies ir. an hour, haa been yoked 10 the steam engine, and now throws off thousands of copies in the same time. It is impossible for ut to enumerate a tithe of all the inventions and discoveries which have been made during the past century ; they are almost beyond computation. Our ob ject is to present the eubject for reflection to the numeroue ingenious men in our coun try. The field before thein is still a com prehensive one. Some new discovery may yet be made whereby the air above may be aa safely and economically as the waters beneath. In agriculture, in machinery and in chemistry, what alores of cew wonders may be developed. Every man who makes a new improvement or discovery is a publio benefactor. His labors vibrate far beyond the boundaries of his own existence, even todietant generations—Scientific American. BAI.ZAC AND TUB THIW.—A few nigbta ago, sa one ot our most distinguished au thors, M. de Balzac, was lying awake m bed, be saw a man enter his room cautious ly and attempt to piok the lock of his wri ting desk. The rogue was a little discdn certed at hearing a loud laugh the occupant of the apaiiment, whom be supposed a sleep. "Why.ijo you laugh, air f", a*ked the thief. "I am laughing, my good fal low," said M. de B„ "to think what pains vou are taking, and what A risk you run, in hope of finding money by night Ui a desk where the lawlul owner can never find any by day 1' The thiol ''evacuated Flauds's'' et once.—Paris paper. < Decisions of the Stale Superintendent. The State Superintendent of the Common Sohols has made a few important decisions, from which we copy the following mdst in teresting ones: Corporeal punishment ami power of Teach ing.—ln regard to the question of the right of teaohers to inflict corporeal punishment upon their pupils, all concerned will bear in mind that tha Superintendent has no power to make lawsthough it is duty to explain such as relate to schools and school purpo ses, when applied to. The right of the teacher to inAiol such punishment, is found: ed only upon necessity, of the case, and not upon statute. "Tt is absolutely necessary that good order shoull be maintained in the schools, and that all proper rules, regula. lions and commands of the Teacher should be strictly and promptly obeyed. Hence a necessity exists for sufficient power to en force this duly, and hence it is that a teacher may inflict such reasonable eorporeal pun ishment upon his pupil as the parent might inflict for a similar cause. The pupil is technically in school from the hour of ope n ing in the morning and alteriioon until final dismissal, and while in or about the school house in pursuance ot his duty as a pupil.— This, (hen, is the extent of the authority of the teacher to inflict corporeal punishment, it would be totally impracticable to extend it by legislative enactment. Pupil only subject to Parents oat ot School Hours. —No person would consent to relin quish the control of his child at his own fire-side or in his own household, and it would be unjust and oruel to make a child responsible to (wo authorities which might differ in almost every command given. II such was the case a teacher might require a pupil to commit lessonc out of school hours, while the parent would require manual la bor from the pupil during the same time- Tile Teacher might prescribe one line of conduct—the pa rent another. Who should be obeyed when both oould not be ? If ei ther should be habitually disobeyed, the consequence would ineviiahly be extremely pernicious. The grant of such powers Jo the Teacher, too, would be inconsistent with the just responsibility of the parent to the laws of the land and of God, for the conduct of his child, and destructive of al most ail responsibility of minors, excepting du(iog school hours and to Criminal laws. Nor would there be any commensurate ben efit for the evil which the grain of aueh powers would entail. If a Teacher has suf ficient authority to control his school, his power is ample for the purposes of instruc tion in school, and there ends his responsi bility. If pupils abuse each other in their way to or from school, or commit any other wrongs, they and their parents are responsi ble to the law, and one or two examples of prompt redress by this means would, no doubt, correct all such evils in any neigh borhood. Who Victoria la. People who wish to know who Victoria is, "whar she cair.e from." &c, &. will please glance over the following'ptogramme: Victoria is the daughter of Duke of Kent, I who was the son of George the Third ; who ' was the grandson of George the Second; who was tha son of :he Princess Sophia; who was the cousin of Anne ; who was the sister of William and Mary; who was the ) daughter and son-in-law of James the Sec ond; who was the son of Charles the First . who was the son of James the First; who was the son of Mary ; who was the grand daughter of Margaret; who was ihe sister of Henry the Eighth; who was the son of Henry the Seventh ; who was the son of the Karl of Richmond ; who was the son of Cath erine, the willow of Henry the Fifih , who was the son of Henry the Fourth ; who was the rousir. of Richard the Second, who was the grandson of Edward the Third; who was the son of Edward tha Second, who was the son of Henry the Third ; who was the ion of John ; who was the son of Hen ry (he Second ; who was the son of Matil da; who was tho Jaught er of Henry the First; who was the brother of William Rufus; who was the son of William the Conquorer; who was the bustard son of the Duke of Normandy, by a tanners' daughter, of Fala f Genius, Talcum, Cleverness Genius rushes like a whirlwind; talent marches like an avalanche of heavy men and horses ; cleverness skims like a swal low in a summer evening, with a sharp thrill note, and a sudden turning. "Hie man of genius dwells with men and with nature; the man of talent in his study; but the olev- 1 er man dances here, there and everywhere, like a butterfly in a hurricane, striking ev rything and enjoying nothing, but too light to be dashed to pieces. The man of talent will attack theories ; the clever man assails the individual, and slanders private charac ter. But the man of geniua despises both, he heeds none, he fears none, he lives in himself, shrouded in the consciousness ot his own strength—he interferes with none sod walks forth an example; 'eagles fly a lone ; they are aheap that herd together.' It is true, that ahould a poisonous worm cross his' path, he may tread it under hi* fool; should a our snarl at him, he may chastise it: but he wifl not, cannot attack the privacy of another. Clever men write verses,'tfirfrf Of tWteni Write piose, but the man of genius whites poetry .—Leelures on Poetry. NUMBER 38, Slander. , How frequently is the honesty am' ittlpg rity of a man disposed of by a smile or < a shrug ! How many good and generous ac tions have been souk into ohlivioo by a die trustful look, or stamped with the imputa tion of proceeding front bad motives, by a mysterious and seasooabls Whisper t f.ook into companies of those whose gentle na tures should disarm '.hem we shall lind tut belter account—how large a portion of chas tity is sent out of the world by distant hints —nodded away, and cruetly winked hito suspicion by the envy of those who are peat all temptation Of it themselves. How often does the reputation Of C helpless c real urn bleed by a report—which the party Who is at the pains tb propagate it beholds with friuch much pity aud fellow feeling—that he te heartily sorry for it—hopes in God It II not true —however as Archbishop Tillotson wit tily observes upon it, is resolved in the meantime to give (he report hr pass, that at least it may have fair play lo lake its for tune in the world—to be believed or not, according to the charity of thorn into whose bonds it shall happen to fall!— Rome Joinnal I'rovcrbt on Homed When cals wash their faces, bad weather is at hand; when women use washea to their complexion, it is a trua sign that the beauiy of their day is gone. Many pbwddr their face* thai their akiit in fly seem while; it is apoulteienhat Hours ad old hen, that it may pass for a lender chicken The stepping stone of foitune is not lo be found in a jweller's shop. How many women have been ruined by diamondsjas bird-catchers fentioe the lark Irom heaven to earth with sparkling glass. Like the colored bottles in achemiat's win dow, is the rouge on the cheeks of a maideu, it attracts the passers by, but but all know the drug they advertise. Choose not your wives, as you do grapes from the bloom on them. He who merries a pretty face, only, is like a buyer of cheap furniture—the varnish that caught the eye will not endure the fite-etde blaze. The girdle of beamy is not a stay-lace This is the only excuse fof light-lading;—a good house-wife should have no unrig. When a maid takes to spaniels and par rots. it means .hat her beauty has gone to the dogs, and that henceforth her life is a bit den lo her. The mouth of a wise woman is like a mon ey box which is seldom opened,so that much treasures come forth fiom it. S'.ore up the truth, 0 won.an !Be chsrilv ble unto thy fallen sister. Imitate not the staits that chase from their hard their wound ed companion. The wise wife opposeth wrath with kind ness. A sand bag will slop a cannon ball by its yielding. A good woman is like a common fiddle, age only makes its totter sweeter.. i HORACEGREBLEV Is evidently on the road to refortn as the following paragraph from his {ttrft testifies. He says:— "It is our deliberate jutlgmenl that no negro' trader in the Srnth would permit a cargo of his human chattels to be carried for a eingle sright with je little ieg ird lo their health arid eomforl—to say nothing of decency—ae is regc ulurly evinced in the transportation af free white emigrants (many of them American'burn) from this city to Albany. We believe it far* below the truth to estimate that three thoMP and human lives arts annually sacrifielt' through the ravages of diarrhma, dysentery, cholera, rheumatism, and fevers,.in ooose qnence of ihis North River exposure alone. And we call opon our city authorities, e£- thsr alone or in conjunction with those of Albany, to take instant aud effective mess ares to arrest this wholesale sacrifice of huv man life and happiness on the altar of the' basest avarice—the most reckless itthumar.- 'y- Anute-Revealers. "We saw a sight in this city'of sights Is'sl Friday. It wss a young lady, possessing beautiful features. Her eyes glistened ahd glowed with intense brightness ■ her cheelis were flushed as the rose, aud her lip> bote the resemblance of red eherrlea, freshly plucked from the trees. Her costume wan of black velvet. She was dressed a h Bloomer—only a littler more so. Her pam<t came to the ankles, where they were baok l led neatly around a pair of white stockings. She had a black nfranda thrown aide bet shoulders, and on the top of her head sat veiy becomingly a black betvar hat. Hal bead was combed beautifully on each t*io of her forehead, and foil in ringlets over her shoulders. She is about eighteen yoars ot age, hails from Philadelphia, and is now on her way to New Orleans, in search of a run. away lover."— Dayton Eagdei, vTrtTW i t '.l A NEW IDEA.—V Ypr drunk again, IteyV No my lovs, (hiccup) not drunk, but slip ry, (hiccup) The fact id, my deaf, some body pus been rubbing lite bottom of my boots (hi6cup)um<) they pre as smooth as gloat." sw Thirty yekrs ago, says our best phys icians, no such disease-as amain, goty waa over heard of. Too disease U caused prin cipally by poiibflotis ffhffcs. "I say. John, whsro did you get that lust er's hat.'" : -• " Please yer lipcer,", said John," its an old one of yoofs, thai MiW"gave me yes ; terday when you wete id
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers