THE STAR OP THE NORTH.
E. W. Weaver Proprietor.]
VOLUME 7.
THE STAR OF THE NORTH
IS PUBLISHEI> EVERY TIIUBSDAY MORNING BY
R. W. WEAVER,
OFFICE— Up stairs, in the new brick build - j
ing, on the south side of Main Steert,
third square belmo Market.
TERMS: —Two Dollars per annum, if
paid within six months from the time of sub
scribing ; two dollars ami fifty cents if not
paid within the year. No subscription re
ceived for a less period than six months ; no
discontinuance permitted until all arrearages
•re paid, unless at the option of the editor.
ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square
will be inserted three limes for One Dollar
and twenty-five cents for each additional in
sertion. A liberal discount will be made to
those who advertise by the year.
From the ( London) Anthenaum.
LOSSES.
BV FRANCIS BROWNE.
Upon the white sea sand
There sat a pilgrim baud,
Telling the losses that their lives had known,
While evening waned away
From btriezy ciiu ud bay, [moan.
And the strong tide went C!d With a weary-
One with spake, quivering lip,
Of a fair freighted ship,
With all his household to'.lie deep gone down;
But one had wilder woe,
For a fair face, long ago
Lost in the darker depths of a greater town.
There were who mourneth their youth i
With a most loving ruth,
For its brave hopes and memories evergreen;
And one upon the West
Turned an eye that would not rest '
For far off hills whereon its joy had been, j
Borne talked of vanished gold,
Some of proud honors told. [more;
Some spake of friends that were their tiußt no !
And one of a green grave,
Beside a foreign wave,
That made him sit so lonely on the shore. j
But when their tales were done,
There spake among them otto,
A stranger, seeming from all sorrow free—
"Sad losses have ye met,
But mine is heavier jet,
For a believing heart hath gone from me."
"Alas !" these pilgrimy said,
"For the living and the dead,
For fortune's cruelty, for love's sure cross,
For the wrecks of land and sea!
But, however it came to thee,
Thine, stranger,is life's last and heaviest loss."
A Uu.y Pay Day.
A profligate young fellow, a son of a law
yer of some eminence in Rhode Island, on a
certain muster or inspection day, purchased a
horse of an ignorant farmer, and engaged to
pay for it on the next inspection day.
When the inspection day had come, and
the farmer, unsuspicious of the trick, suppo
sed the note to be due, he called on the
young man for payment. The latter expres
sed great astonishment that he should call on
him before the note was out.
"But it is ou'," said the farmer; "you
promised to pay me the next inspection
day; the time has come and I want the mon
ey."
" if you will look at that note again,"
said the young man coolly, "you will
find that it has a long while to run yet."
The farmer was sure the note was due, or
ought to be; but on spelling over carefully
he found to his astonishment that it was not
due till the resurrection day. Ha remonstra
ted with the young scapegrace but all to no
purpose, and he finally laid the case before
his father, the lawyer. The latter took his
son aside, and told him he had better settle
the thing at once.
"For," said he, "though the pay day is lar 1
distant, j-ou are in a fair way to have busi
ness enough on your hands that day to with
out having your notes to settle."
The advice was taken.
Clear tbe I rack.
It is announced officially that three splen
did prizes, the least of which is 525 in cold,
will be offered to the ladies of Seneca Coun
ty, Ohio, at the next annual Fair, October,
1895 for the swiftest running in a fool-race—
the fastest lady on foot to take the highest
prize.
That is, the Ohioians are seeking to im
prove the human race by introducing the
feminine element. As a matter of course,
such exercise must have its effect, and la
titat gradually become so fleet in conse
quence of it, that they will doubly deserve
the title, American deer, if this Style of
thing gnes on, however, the Hoosiers may
ere long expect to be qualified to stay at
home to wash dishes and apank the baby,
while the women folks will go out and do all
the chewing, aweartng and horse-racing.—
N. T. Picayune.
ANECDOTE OF Gov. Wits.—Before his elec
tion tbe Know Nothing papers were fond of
publishing aoeodotes to show how Wise was"
•put down' upon the stump, by interruptions
from 'Sam,' and the vast assemblages which
were wont to gather around the hustings of
the Orator of Accomac. At one of these
meeting* in Western Virginia, two of 'Sam's'
fastest young men had been more than usu
ally noisy and insolent towards the speaker,
and their interruptions were plainly intended
to annoy and insult htm. Wise paused in
his speeob, and laming to these "bloods"
pointed hie long skinny finger, a la Randolph,
at tbe offenders, and said: " Young men! I
am to ba your next Governor -' yon will prob
ably be in tbe penitentiary; and may depend
upon it you will have lp sprvt out your time I"
He was not interrupted again in that quar
ter- < •
iy Why did Adam bite the apple," ask.
Ed a country school-master of his pupil.*-
"Because be had no knife," aaid the bey.
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 20, 1855.
j Translated from the Fr. for the Home Journal
| THE MAIDEN WITH GOLDEN HAIR
BV OLIVER 8. LKLAND.
_____
Many, many years ago, near by ibe old
Abbey of Cbelles, there was a fountain, a
little fountain, which went rippling, rippling
along laughingly, through the flowers and
the fresh, green grass.
In the fountain, a large willow bathed its
long green hair and under this willow came
Jacqueline every evening, at the hour when
the night flower opens its chalice. But Jac-
I queline came not under the tree to drink of
the fountain ; for here, at the hour when the
night flower opens its choice, came her lov
er, Pierre. Pierre was a blacksmith of the
country, the handsome smith with the proud
yet tender glance. And every evening they
culled with the same hand, the little blue
flowers which enamelled the borders of the
fountain. And when the flowers were cul
led, Pierre would kiss them and conceal
them in the bosom of iba beautiful Jacque
line with the golden htu'.
One evening when Jacqueline came with
Pierre under the great willow tree, he grew
pale ar death. "Dearest," said she, -'vow
to md to love thy Jacqueline as long as the
fountain shall glide on." And Pierre an
swered. "As long as the fountain shall glide
on, so long, and longer, will I love my beau
tiful Jacqueline with the golden hair.
He vowed : but one day Jacqueline stood
all alone beneath the great willow tree. She
gathered the little blue flowers while wait
ing for him, but he came not to place them
in the little red bodice. She threw the flow
ers into the lountain, and she thought that
the fountain wept with her. The next day
she caine a little sooner and wen! away a
little later. She waited; the nightingales
were tinging in the woods, the cattle were
lowing in the meadow. She wailed ; the old
abbey clock sounded the hour of the Angelus;
the miller of Nogent chanted his joyous song.
Eight days after, Jacqueline came once
more to the fountain. She was still alone.—
"It is over," said she ; "tt is over 1" The
soldiers of the king just then passed by the
brookside. "Ah P' said she, "he has gone
to the war."
She went and knocked at the door of the
Abbey. "It is a poor girl," said she, "who
wishes to love God alone."
Thev cut off her beautifol golden hair—
they seut back It) her mother her little red
bodice and her ring of silver.
lel ho came back—he, the blacksmith
with the proud eye, yet tender glance. —
1 Jacqueline, Jacqueline, where art thou?"—
The fountain still runs on: it is the hour
when the white pigeons seek the dovecot,
the hour when the night flower opens its
chalice. "Where art lltou, Jacqueline?—
Where art thou V' And even as he spoke,
Pierre was Jacqueline pass by, robed in the
black gatb of the nuns. Poor Jacqueline !
she has lost her golden hair.
He approached hbr. "Jacqueline, Jacque
line, what hast thou done with out happi
ness ? While 1 was a prisoner of war, be
hold thou hast descended into a living tomb.
Jacqueline, darling, what shall Idoat my
forge without thee? Thou, who shouldst
have given to me thy smile to cheer my
heart, thy brow to embalm my lips,thy neck
on which to restmy arms. Thou who shouldst
have given to me children, beautiful as an
gels, to enliven the corner of my fireside.—
Already I have seen them in my dreams,
with their little rosy leet, playing on their
father's knees, smiling in their mother's
arms. Adieu, Jacqueline; adieu ! I will go
to night and bid farewell to the fountain,
and to the great willow tree, and to the little
blue flowers. And when i have said fare
well to all that 1 have loved, I will cut me a
stall in the old forest, and I will journey into
far off-lands."
That evening when Pierre came to the
fountain, the sun was gilding with his last
pale ray the branches of the great willow
tree. It was a hunting day, and the baying
of the dogs and the shouts of the huntsmen
resounded gayly over the Maine. When
Pierre had come under the great willow tree,
he shuddered and pressed hie hand closely 1
j to his heart; for lying on the grass, her head
leaning against thp stone baße of the foun
tain. he had seen the figure of a nun.
"Jacquffine ! Jacqueline !" falling on his
knees; and the echo from the woods an
swered, sadly, "Jacqueline ! Jacqueline !"
With fright and love he raised her in his
a,*.ms. "Farewell, dear Pierre," she said,
softly; "since I have prayed to God within
those gloomy coitvent walla, I have felt that
1 was dying from hour to hour. Already am
1 dead ; if my heart still beali, it is lhat it is
so near to thine. Grant me one favor, will
you not, dearest? When 1 am dead bury
me here. Ido not wish to return to the con
vent, where my heart was irozen; but bury
me here, dear Pierre, where I may still hear
the tippling of the fountain and the waving
of the branches of the great willow tree.—
And in the soft, sweet evenings of the month
of May, when the nightingale sings his ten
dereat lay down in the woods, I will remem
ber that you have loved nee well."
She ceased, and pressing her death-cold
lipa for the last time upon his brow, she
breathed her soul away in lhat last kiss of
love. Thus died Jacqueline, the beautiful
maiden witb (be golden bair.
The moon, jual rising above the mountain
(op, abed down a sweet, sad light upon the
scene. Pierre took her in bia arms, saying
40 her a thousand tender words, thinking
■till that the would answer him. But she
heard him not. How beautiful abe seemed
jn death, raiting hat pale face upon the
shoulder of tier torer, Pierre j
All the night long Pierre prayed to God
for the soul of his dear Jacqueline, some
times on his knees before the body, some
times pressing her wildly to his heart- At
daybreak, all sobbing, he dug her grave, and
lined it witb the fresh, groen grass, glisten
ing with the morning dew, all studded with
flowers and pearls. On this funeral bed he
placed Jacqueline for eternity. For the last j
time he pressed her hand, for the last lime
he kissed her pure while brow. Over the
body he scattered all the wild flowers he
could gather in the meadow, or at the bor
ders ol the wood. Upon the wild flowers he
threw the earth—earth blessed by holy tears.
Slowly he went away. The nuns, on their
awaking, heard the sobs of the lover, Pierre.
Since that sad day, the smith has never
beaten the iron at his forge. Since that sad
day, Jacqueline has slept to the rippling of
the fouutain—music sweet to her heart.—
And in the soft, sweet evenings of the month
of May, when the nightingale sings his ten
derest lay down there in the woods, she re
members that Pierre has loved her well.—
And to this duy, you can see the little blue
flowers growing from her tomb, which is ev
er green.
Ilow Dir. Sparrowgrass went down Stairs-
One evening Mrs. S, had retired, and 1
was busy writing when it struck me a glass
of ice water would be palatable. So I took
a caqdle and pitcher and went down to the
pump. Our pump is in the kitchen. A coun
try pump, in the kitchen, is more conveni
ent; but a well with buckets is certainly
more picturesque. Unfortunately, our well
water has not been sweet since it was clean
ed out. First 1 had to open a bolted door
lhat lets you into the basement hall, and
then I went to the kitchen door which prov
ed to be locked. Then I remembered that
our girl Always carried the key to bed witb
her, and slept with it under her pillow.—
Then 1 retraced my steps ; bolted the base
ment door, and went up into the diningroom.
As is always the case, 1 found when I could
not get any water I was thirstier than I sup
posed I was. Then I thought I would wake
up our girl. Then I concluded not to do it.
Then I thought of the well, but gave'that up
on account of its flavor. Then I opened the
closet doors—there was no water there ; and
then I thought of the dumb waiter! The
novelty of the idea made me smile; I took
out two of the movable shelves, stood the
pitcher on the bottom of the dumb waiter,
got in myseli with the lamp ; let myself
down, until I supposed I was within a foot of
the floor below, and then lei gc).
We came down so suddenly, that I was
shot out of the apparatus as if it had been a
catapult; it broke the pitcher, extinguished
the lamp, and landed roe in the middle of
the kitchen at midnight with no fire, and the
air not much above the zero point. The
truth is I had miscalculated the distance of
the descent—instead of falling one foot, 1
had fallen five. My first impulse was to as
cend by the way I came down, but I found
lhat impracticable. Then I tried the kitchen
door, it was locked; I tried to force it open;
it was made of two inch stuff, and held its
own. Then 1 hoisted the window, and there
were the rigid iron bars. If 1 ever felt an
gry at anybody, it was at myself for putting
up those bars to please Mrs. Sparrowgrass.—
I put them up, not to keep people in but to
keep people out.
1 laid rny cheek against the ice-cold bar
riers and looked out at the sky; not a star
was visible; it was as black as ink overhead.
Then 1 thought of Baron Trenck and the pris
oner of Chillon. Then I made a noisb ! 1
shouted until I was hoarse, and ruined our
preserving kettle with the poker. That
brought our doge out in full bark, and be
tween us we made night hideous. Then 1
thought I beard a voice, and listened—it was
Mrs. Sparrowgrass calling to me Irom the
top of the staircase. I tried to make her
hear me, but the dogs uniteJ with howl, and
growl and bark, so as to drown my voice
wbich is naturally plaintive and tender.—
Besides there wero two bolted doors and
double deafened floors between us; how
could she recognize my voice even if she did
hear it ? Mrs. Sparrowgrass called me once
or twice, and (hen got frightened; the next
thing [ heard was a sound as if the roof had
fallen in, by which I understood that Mrs.
Sparrowgrass was springing the rattle. That
called out our neighbor, already wide awake.
He came to the rescue with a bull-terrier, a
Newfoundland pup, a lantern and a revol
ver. The moment he saw me at the win
dow, be shot at me, but fortunatelyjust miss
ed me. I threw myself under the kichen ta
ble and began to expostulate with him, but
he would not listen to reason. In the excite
ment I had forgotten his name, and that made
matters worse. It was not until he had rous
ed up everybody around, broken in the base
ment door with an axe, gotten into the kitch
en with his savage dogs and shooting iron,
and siezed me by the collar, that he recog
nized me—and then wanted me to explain
it! But what kind of an explanation could
I make to him ? I told him he would have
to wail until my mind was composed, and
then I would let him understand the whole
matter fully. But be never would have had
the particulara from me, for I do no not ap
prove of neighbors lhat shoot at you, break
in your door and treat you in your own
house, as if you were a jail bird. He knows
all about it, however—somebody has (old
him; somebody tells everybody everything in
our village.— Putnam for June.
Or Why is a poor horse greater lhau Na
poleon? Because in bi there 1a many-6o
ny-partt.
Truth and Bight God aud our Country.
THE PLAGUE.
The most terrible scourge of the Middle
Ages was the "Black Death." It is compu
ted lhat this mighty reaper gathered in his
"harvest home" twenty-five millions of peo
ple one fonrth of the then population of Eu
rope. The disease first appeared in the king
dom of Cathay to the north ot China in the
year 1333. In 1334 it visited France and
England, and subsequently Scotland, Nor
way, Russia and Poland. It dashed in a
mong the Poles with a wolfish appetite and
seemed disposed to anticipate the Russians
in making a morsel of ils nationality. Three
fourths of the entire population were de
voured by tbe hungy monsu*. Of the Rus
sians and Norwegians two-thirds were de
stroyed. The disease is described by Hecker
as a specie of Oriental plague, exhibiting it
self in inflammatory boils and tumors of the
glands, accompanied with burning thirst;
sometimes, also, with inflammation of the
lungs an expectoration of blood ; in other
cases with vomitings of blood and fluxes of
the bowels, terminating like malignant chol
era, with a discoloration of the skin, and
black spots indicating putrid decomposition,
from which it was called in the north of
F.arope, the 'Black Death.' The attacks were
usually fatal within two or three days of the
first symptoms appearing, but in many cases
were even more sudden, some fall SB if struck
by ligtituing. In some countries, dogs, cats,
fowls, and other animals were affected by
the disease and died in gieat numbers. In
England it was followed by a fatal murrain
among cattle, occasioning a gieat advance
in tbe price of food.
Upon the heels of this black night of Mor
tality, there came polking into Europe the
Dancing Mania or Tarantism, as it was call
ed in Italy, where it was attributed to the
bile of the ground spider—the tarantula.—
The disease, it is said, showing itself in vio
lent involuntary movements in the muscles
of the legs, the physicians of the times con
cieved the idea that if the patients were en
couraged to dance until they fell exhausted,
a reaction would commence and a cure re
sult. This singular prescription was so much
relied on, that music was every whero pro
vided, and airs composed to harmonise with
the peculiarities of the dance; but these pub
lic exhibitions seem to have had the effect
of propagating the epidemic.
In a short time—naturally enough, to be
sure—all Germany was in motion. The na
tion en masse took to dancing until the fath
erland became a vast ball toom, and the
anti-chamber to the "valley of death."—
There circles were formed in the churches,
public buildings and in the streets. Joined
hand in hand and appearing to hare lost all
control over themselves, they continued
dancing regardless ot the by-standers, for
hours together in wild delirium until they
fell to the ground exhausted. The dancing
mania, however appeared to run ils course
more readily in Germany than in other
places. It prevailed in Italy as late as the
seventeenth century.
We have historical accounts of two other
singular epidemics, tbe biting mania and the
mewing mania, the former begun, it is said,
with a nun, in a German nunnery, who show
ed a great propensity to bite her companions,
which spread to many other nunneries. The
mewing mania was also a nunnery disease—
the victims of this disease would spend sev
eral hours of the day in imitating the mew
ing of a cat. Both of these epidemics occur
red in the fifteenth century, when nervous
diseases appear to have been unusually prev
alent in Europe.
The "sweating sickness" another terrible
epidemic, made its appearance in England
in 1544 ; it produced a fatality nearly as great
as that of the Black Death. The disease de
vastated England five times within six years,
and then entirely disappeared. The disease
was a violent inflamatory fever, thai suffused
j the whole body with a foetid prespiralion.—
i Its attacks was followed immediately by
complete prostration, and arriving at a crisis
in a few hours. It seldom spared its victims
—scarcely one in a hundred escaped with
life. It was remarkable, that robust aud vig
orous men were generally singled out as the
favorite target for the arrows of this deadly
archer, whilst children and the aged almost
universally escaped.
Plagues have existed in nearly all ages,
and can hardly be said to be extinct—even
at this day. The great plague of London in
1665, carried off nearly 70.000 inhabitants of
that oily. It commenced with shivering,
nausea and headache, followed by total pros
tration or delirium, and sometimes parox
ysms of frenzy. If the patient survivod these
till the third day, buboes commonly appear
ed, and when th*se could be made to suppu
rate, there was hope of recover)*. The 'plague
of the guts,' which is monl'oned in a table of
London casualties of 1659 and 1660. and
which proved awfully fatal in 1670 and 1699
is supposed to have been the cholera in its
malignant form. The minute description
given of this disease by Dr. Hecker, identify
it with the epidemic cholera of this period,
and seem to explode '.he theory that before
the year 1817, tbe cholera was altogether
uuknowu either in India or Europe.
•
ARRIVAL OF GOV. SHANNON IN KANSAS. —We
learn from Westport, Kansas lhat Governor
Shannon arrived there on tbe 31st ult. He
was serenaded, and being called out made a
speech, in which he said be regarded the Leg
islature as legal, and ita acts binding, and
would exert his authority to enforce them.—
Ha deolared himself in favor of slavery in
Kansas.— ledger.
Senator I'ugh—An Eloquent Extract.
The Cincinnati Enquirer has brought out
the following extract of a speech of the Hon.
Geo. E. Pugh, made in that city, April 6lh,
1854. Is there an Ohioan, who loves bis
country, and desires the perpetuity of this
gloriou* Union, but will respond an hearty
amen to the patriotic and eloquent sentiment)
of this extract. It is worthy the reputation
of our ablest statesman, aud we rejoice that
it finds a place in the hearts of our young, ri
sing politicians.— Stark Co. (O.) Dcm.
Said Mr. Pugh :
"The continuance of the Union is a mat
ter of vital importance to the people of Ohio.
Tha' is the term of all our greatness and all
our hopes. Wo came into being, as a Stale,
under the auspices of a Federal Government,
and as it may stand or fall, so must our fate
be. If any Abolitionist will calculate the
value of the Union to us, or even to those
who may fill our places hereafter, let him be
hold the prosperity and happiness which have
fallen to our choice. Let him depart from
Sandusky with Monday's train—first having
renewed his patriotism at tbe sight of those
islands near which the immortal victory of
> Lake Erie was achieved, and let him jour
ney hitherward until the sun declines. What
a vision will greet his eyes! The noble State
of Ohio, but fifty years old, and yet contain
ing two millions of inhabitants, great, rich,
and enviable, will have passed before him—
a State which is not merely indebted to the
Union for peace and protection, for means of
access to the Bea, but even for its political
existence. Arrivbd at this capital of western
trade and power, this queen of cities, which
glasses herself in a river proverbial foi beau
ty, let him contemplate here a triumph of
industry and enterprise as superb in design
as it is magnificent in proportions, which, but
for the Union's continual care, would quick
ly fade into despair and aihes. Let him go
hence by the agency of that subtile minister
which enlivens so many wondrous forms of
mechanism, until he has reached the States
which lie upon our southern border—those
fertile and sunny lands through whose allu
vion the Mississippi cleaves a hundred out
lets to the gulf. That, also, Uhis country. —
There, amid the fields of verdant cane or in j
the groves of citron and olive, or where the
fig tree casts its clustering shade, will be
found men and women to whom VVhshing
ton is likewise a guiding star —whose hopes
are bound up wilh (lis own hopes—whose
fortunes depend on his fortunes—over whose
homes, as ovet hit home, the Government
which Washington established—tiie Govern
ment which Washington besought us to
maintain—stretches forth its protecting and
victorious arm. If there be an American
who would dissever those whom kindred as
pirations, a common liberty, and tbe joint in
heritance of so great a name conspire thus
closely to unite; ii there be an American who
could ever wish those tilings otherwise, I pity
bis head—l pity the lather and mother who
arc compelled to own him—l pity tbe soil
which bis very footsteps contaminate —I pity
even the day whose healthful sunlight was
dimmed and eclipsed by such a birth of un
dying shame."
How they lead Newspapers-
It is*a proof of the great variety of human
developement to notice persons reading a
newspaper.
Mr. General intelligence first glances at
the telegraph, then at the editorial, then he
goes into the correspondence.
Mr. Sharper opens with stocks and mar
kets, and ends with the advertisements for
watits, hoping to find a victim.
Aunt Suckey first reads the stories, then
looks to see who is married.
Miss I'rim looks at the marriages first, and
then looks at the stories.
Mr. Marvellous is curious to see the list of
accidents, murders and the like.
Uncle Ned hunts up a funny thing, and
laughs with a will.
Madame Gossip turns to the local depart
ment for her thunder, and having obtained
that, throws the paper aside.
Mrs. Friendly drops the first tear of sym
pathy over the deaths, and then over the
marriages . for, says she, one is about as bad
as the other. *
Mr. f'olilioian dishes into the leleg-aph,
and from that into the editorial, ending with
the speeches alluded to.
Our literary friend is eager for a nice com
position from the editor, or some kind cor
respondent. After analyzing the rhetoric,
grammar and logie of the production, he
turns a careless glance at the news depart
ment, and then takes to his Greek, perfectly
satisfied.
The pleasure seeker examines tbe pro
grammes of lite public entertainments, and
decides which will afford him the greatest
amount ol entertainment.
The laborer searches among the wants for
abetter opening in his business, and—but
enough ; an extension of the list is useless.—
There is just as much difference in readers
as in anything.
But the worst is yet to eorae. If each
does not find a column or more of his pecu
lar liking, the editor ha 9 of course been la
zy, and is unworthy of patronage. Oh ! who
wouldn't be an editor!
RACHEL has given #IOOO to the sufferers
at Norfolk and Portsmouth, and the New
York merchants sent off on Sunday a ship
load of provisions. This is the*proper kind
of generosity, and those who are its objects
are likely to need all the relief that will be
extended to them before the pestilenae ces
eea ita ravage* and allow* burnt*** to be re
lumed.
lolly of Religious Persecution.
We invite every unprejudiced mind to the
serious consideration of the following great
fundamental truth as penned by Epos Sar
gent, Esq. ft is possible for any man to
ponder these fair and logical deductions from
history, and then to continue to wage war
upon any sect or denomination for mere opin
ion's sake?
"The very worst mischief that can be done
to religion, is to pervert it to the purposes of
faction. Heaven and hell are not more dis
tant than the benevolent spirit of the Gospel
ind the malignant spirit of party. The most
impious wars ever made were those called
holy wars. He who hates another man for
\ not being a Christian, is himself not a Chris
tian. Toleration is tbe basis of all public qui
et. It is a chart of freedom given to the mind,
, tnore valuable, I think, than that which se
cures our persons and estates. Indeed they
are inseparably connected; for where the
; mind is not free, where the conscience is en
thralled, there is no freedom. I repeat it,
' persecution is us impious as it is cruel and
unwise. It not only opposdi every precept
j of the New Testament., but it invades the
| prerogative of GoJ Himself. It is a usurps
pation of lite attribute which belongs exclu
sively to the Most High. It is a vain endeav
or to ascend into His Throne, to wield His
ceptre, aud hurl His thunderbolts.
" And then its own history proves how use
less it is. Tiuth is immortal; the sword can
not pierce it, fires cannot consume it, poisons
cannot incarcerate it, famir.e cannot starve
it; all the violence of men stirred up by the
power and subtlety of bell, cannot put it to
death. In the person of its martyrs it bids
defiance to the will ol the tyrant who perse
cutes it, and with the martvr's last breath,
predicts its own full aud final triumph. The
I'agait persecuted the Christian, but yet Chris
tianity lives. The Roman Catholic persecu
ted the Protestant, but Protestantism yet lives.
The Protestant persecuted the Roman Cath
olic, but yet Catholicism lives. The Church
of England persecuted Nonconformists, and
yet Nonconformity lives. Nonconformists
persecuted Episcopalians, yet Episcopacy
lives. When persecution is carried to its
extreme length of extirpating heretics, Truth
may be extinguished in one place, but it will
break out in another. If opinions cannot be
put down by argument, they cannot by pow
er. Truth gains the victory in the end, not
only by its own evidences, but by the suffer
ings of its confessors. Therefore if we have
a mind to establish peace among the people,
we must allow men to judge freely in mat
ters of religion, and to embrace that opinion
they think right, without any hope of tempo
ral reuurd, without any fear of temporal pun
ishment."
THREE THINGS. —Three things that never
become rusty : The money of the benevo
lent, the shoes on a butcher's horse, an I a
fretful tongue.
Three things not easily done: To allay
thirst with fire, to drj the wet with water, to
please all in everything that is done.
Three things that are as good as the best:
Brown bread in a famine, well water in thirst,
and a great coat in winter.
Three things as good as their better: Dir
ty water to extinguish fire, an ngly wife to a
blind man, anJ a wooden sword to a cow
ard.
Three things lhat seldom agfee: Two cats
over one mouse, two scolding wives in one
bouse, and two lovers of the same maiden.
Three things of a short continuance : A
boy's love, a chip fire, and a brook's flood.
Three things that ought never to be from
home: Thecal, the chimney, and'thehouse
wife.
Three essentials to a false story teller: A
good memory, a bold face, aud fools for an
audience.
Three things seen in the peacock : The
garb of an angel, the walk ol a thief, and the
voice ot the devil.
Three things that are unwise lo boast of:
The flavor of thy ale, the beauty of thy wife,
and the contents of thy purse.
Three miseries of a man's house: A smo
ky chimney, a dripping roof, and scolding
wife.
Smull Mouth, Due Ilii-bund -Laige, Two.
Old Gov. I. , of Vermont was one of
the most inveterate jokers of the early times
in which he figured. An anecdote is told of
him, which has never been related in print,
and never can be, perhaps, wilh much ef
fect; but we will fry It. One fall as he was
returning from the Legislature on horseback, 1
as usual at that Hay, he was hailed from a
honse by a garrulous old maid, who had of
ten annoyed him with questions respecting
public affairs.
" Well, Governor," said she, coming oul
towards the road, '• what new laws have you
passed at Montpelier, this time *"
"Well, one rather singular law, among the
rest," he replied.
" Dew tell'. Now, what is it, Governor J'
asked the excited querist.
*' Why, that the woman in each town, who
has the smallest mouth, shall be warranted a
husband."
" Whoy, whot!" said the other, drawing
up her mouth, to the smallest oompass; what
a queer curious lor lhat is ?"
" Yes, but we bare passed aaotber that
beats that—the woman who has the largest
mouth is to have two husbands."
" Wbv, whart I" exclaimed the old maid,
instantly relaxing bar mouth and stretching
it wider and wider at every syllable—"what
a remarkable lor that iv; when does it come
in force, Governor t"
At thie the Governor pot epure lo hie home
and vanished-
[Two Dollars per Annofa
NUMBER 35.
Anecdote, of Kef. Sydney Smith.
I A PRIVATE GALLOWS.—Young delinquent*
I he could never bear to commit; he read them
a severe lecture, and in extreme cases cull
od oni, "John bring me my private gallows J"
■ which infallibly bronghl the little urohir.s
weeping on their knees, and "Ob ! for God's
sake, your honor, pray forgive us !" and his
j honor used graoiously to pardon them for
, this tune, and delay the arrival of the private
gallows, and seldom had reason to repeat the
| threat.
SMALLMEN—An argument arose, in which
j my father observed how man) of the most
■ eminent men ol the world have been dimiu-
J utive in person ; and after naming several
among the ancients, he added, " Why look
| there at Jeffrey; and there is my little friend
,who has not body enough io cover
, his mind decently with; his intellect is expo
j sed."
SORROW FOR A GREAT MAN DEPARTED —At
a large dinner party tr.y lather, or some one
else, announced the death of Mr. Dugald
Stewart—one whose name ever brings with
it feelings of respect, for his talents and high
character. The news was received with so
much levity by a lady of rank who sat by
bim, that he turned round and said, " Slad
am, wheu we are told of the death of so great
a man as Mr. Dugald Stewart, it is usual, in
civilized society, to look grave for at least
the space of five seconds."
PARENTAL ADVICE.—"Lucy, Lucy, my dear
child, don't tear your frock ; tearing frocks is
not of itself a proof of genius; bnt write as
your mother writes, act as your mother acts;
be frank, loyalaffectior.ate, simple, honest /
and then integrity or laceration of frocks is of
little import. And Lucy, dear child, mind
your arithmetic. You know, in the first sum
of yours I ever saw, there was a mistake—
You had carried two (as a cab is licensed to
do), and you ought, dear Lucy, to have car
ried but one. fs this a trifle What would
life be without arithmetic, but ascene
rors? You are going to Boulogne, the city
ol debts, peopled by mer. who never under
stood arithmetic,' by the time you return
shall probably have received my first para
lytic stroke, and I shall have lost all recollec
tion of you; therefore, I now give you my
parting advice. Don't marry anybody who
has not a tolerable understanding and a
thousand a year, and God bless you dear
child!"
A BABY ESTABLISHMENT—'The usual estab
lishment for an eldest landed baby is, two
wet 11 u rses, I wo ditto dry, two aunts, two phy
sicians, two apothecaries, three lemale friends
ol the family, unmarried, advanced in life ;
and often, in the nursery, one clergyman;eix
flatterers, and a grand-papa! Less than this
would not be decent.
A lilut ou Household Management.
Have you ever observed what a dislike
servants have to anything cheap? They
hate saving their master's money. I tried
the experiment with great success the other
day. Finding we consumed a vast deal of
soap, I eat down in my thinking chair, and
took the soap question into consideration,
and I found reason to suspect we were nsing
a very expensive article where a cheaper
one would serve the purpose better. I or*
dered half a dozen pounds of both aorta, but
took the precaution of changing Ike papers
on which the prices were marked, before
giving them into the hands of Betty. 'Well,
Betty, which soap do you find washes best?'
'Oh, please, sir, the dearest in the blue pa
per; it makes lather as well again aa the olb
! er.' 'Well, Betty, you shall always bsve it
then;' and thus the unsuspecting Betty saved
me some pounds a year, and washed the
clothes baiter.— Rev. Snyder Smith.
\
l* He was an accurate observer and a
sound reasoner, who said: "Mankind are
always happier for having been happy; so
that, if you make them happy now, you
make them hßppy twenty years hence by the
memory o! it. A childhood passeJ with a
mixture oi rational indulgence, under fond
and wise parents, diffuses over the whole of
life a feeling of calm pleasure; and in ex
treme old age, is the very last remembrance
which time can erase from (he mind of man.
No enjoyment, however inconsiderable, is
confined to the present moment. A man in
the happier for life for having made once an
agreeable tour, or lived for any length of time
with pleasant people, or enjoyed any consid
erable internal of innocent pleasure, which
contributes to render okl men so inattentive
to the scenes before them, and carries them
back to a world that is past, and to scenes
never to be renewed again."
GOOD.—A man who ia very rioh now, waa
very poor when he was a boy. When ask
ed how hegothia tiches, he replied, "My
father taught me never to play till my work
was finished, and uever to spend my money
till 1 had earned iu If I had but an hour's
working a day, I must do tbat the very
first thing, in an bour. After it was done
I was allowed to play with much more
pleasure than if the thought of an unfinished
task obtruded upon my mind. I early form
ed the habit oi doing everything in turn, and
it aoun became perfectly easy to. do ao. It it
to this 1 owe my prosperity." Leteteryboy
who reads this go and do likewise.
ty Roosters have sometimes been called
preachers, owing to the fact that they pro
claim viva voce the approach of day. What
then shall w# style the hens T— Why toy mem
ben, to be sure.