THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
B. fft Heaver Proprietor.]
VOLUME 7.
THE STAR OF THE NORTH
IS PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BY
R. IV. WEAVER,
OFFICE— Up stairs, in the new brick build
ing, on the south side of Main Steert,
third square below Market.
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those who advertise by the year.
T3EES3SF 'SEBEEST
From the Little Pilgrim.
THE KUPK-WALK.
BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
In that building, long and low,
With its windows all a-row,
Like the port holes of a hulk,
Human spiders spin and spin,
Backward down their threads so thin,
Dropping each a hempen bulk.
At the end an open door;
Squares of sunshine on the floor
Light the loug and dusky lane;
And the whirring of a wheel,
Dull and drowsy, makes me feel
All its spokes are in my brain.
As the spinners to the end
Downward go and re-ascend,
Gleam the long threads iu the sun;
While within this brain ot mine
Cobwebs brighter and more fine,
By the busy wheel are spun.
Two fair maidens in a swing,
Like white doves upon the whiug,
First before my vision pass ;
Laughing, as their gentle hands
Closely clasp the twisted strands,
At their shadow on the grass.
Then a booth of mountebanks,
With its smell ol tan and planks,
And a girl poised high in air
On a cord, iu spangled dress,
With a faded loveliness,
And a weary look of cute !
Then a homestead among farms,
And a woman with bare arms
Drawing water Irom a well;
As the buoket mounts apace,
With it mounts her own lair lace,
As at some magician's spell.
Then an old mnn iu a tower,
Hinging loud the noontide hour,
While the rope pods round and round,
Like a serpent at his feet,
And again iu swilt retreat
Almost lifts him Irom the ground.
Then within a prison yard,
Faces fixed, and stern, and hard,
Laughter and indecent mirth ;
Ah ! it is ihu gallows tree !
Breath of Chrisliaii charity,
Blow, and sweep it from the eatth!
Then a school-boy, with his kite,
Gleaming in a sky of light,
And an eager, upward look;
Steeds pursued through lane and fielil;
Fowlers with their snares concealed ;
And an angler by a brook.
Ships rejoicing in the breeze,
Wrecks thai float iu unknown seas,
Anchors dragged through faithless sand;
Sea-fog drifting overhead,
And with lessening line and lead
Sailors teeling for the land.
All these scenes do 1 behold,
These and many left untold.
In that building long and low ;
While the wheels go round and round,
With a drowsy, dreamy sound,
And the spinners backward go.
T
A Young Man's Character.
No young man who has a juei sense nf his
own value will sport with bis own character.
A watchful regard to his character in early
youth will be of inconceivable value to bim
in all the remaining years of his life. When
tempted lo deviate from strict propriety of
deportment, he should ask himself, Can 1
afford this? Can I endute hereafter to look
hack upon this I
It is ot amazing worth to a young man to
have a puie mind; for this is the foundation
of a pure character. The mind, in order lo
be kept pure, n u*t be employed in topics ol
thought which ere themselves lovely, chas
tened, and elevating. Thus the inind hath
in its own power tho selection of its themes
of meditation. If youth only knew bow du
rable and how dismal is the injury produced
by the indulgence of degraded thoughts—if
they only realized how frightful were the
moral depravities which a cherished habit
of loose imagination produces on the soul—
they would shun them as the bite of a ser
pent. The power books to excite the imagi
nation is a fearful element of moral death
when employed in the service of vice.
The cultivation of an amiable, elevated,
end glowing heart, alive lo all the beauties
of nature and all the sublimities of truth, in
vigorates the intellect, gives to the will inde
pendence of baser passions, and lo the af
fections that power of adhesion to whatever
is pure, and good, and grand, which is adapt
ed to lead out the whole nature of man into
those scenes of action and impression by
which its energies may be most appropriate
ly employed, and by which its high destina
tion may be moßt effectually reached.
The opportunities lor exciting these facul
ties in benevolent and sell-deaying efforts
for the welfare of our fellow-men, are so
many and great that it really is worth while
to five. The heart which is truly evangeli-
benevolent, may luxuriate in an age
dp like (bis. The promises of God are inex
■ pressiUy rich, the main tendencies of things
to marmlMly in accordance with them, the
extent of moral influenoe i* so great, and
the effects of its employment so visible, that
whoever aspires after benevolent action and
retches forth for things that remain for us,
19 the true dignity of bis nature, can find
fiee scope for bis intellect, and 11-inspiring
'heme* for the heart
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY. NOVEMBER 1* 1855.
TIL IS IIONI V DIGGER.
* A LEGEND.
In a ietired part of Yorkshire Wolds, stood
| some years ago. the Castle of Lonnsbnrougli,
an ancient seat of the noble house o( Caven
j dish, which had long been in such a state of
desertion and decay that it has been though;
expedient to demolish it altogether. At the
commencement of the great civil war, on
the Sir Charles Hotham taking possession of
Hull for the Parliament, it had been for sev
eral years, a place of refuge r or several
wealthy royalists. For this reason perhaps,
or from others more valid, a tradition had
long prevailed in the neighboring village,
that mar.y hidden treasures Had been dis
covered at different times about the house
and grounds of I.ounsborough Castle. The
noble owners, of course, treated these ru
mors with contempt; and never took any
steps for asserting their manorial rights, or
investigating their supposed claims.
About the middle of the last century, the
charge of the ancient domain was commit- '
ted lo a man ot the name of Christopher
Hobson, who with his w'le and two daugh
ters, constituted its so'e occupants. The fe
males were occupied in keeping tho house
in decent order, whilst Christopher, or as he
was commonly called Kester, busied himself
in the gardens and grounds—so that in case
of an unexpected visit (rom the noble own
ers, which sometimes happened, the family
were not wholly unprepared for iheir recep
tion.
Kester Hobson was in the habit of spend
ing two or three evenings in a week at a
small public itouse in the adjacent village,
where a few of the neighbors generally as
sembled. At the period wo are speaking of,
many of the lingering superstitions of the
dark ages still maintained their ground io va
rious parts ol the kingdom, and in none did
they keep their hold with greater tenacity >
than in tho village of Yorkshire Wolds. At
their fireside meeting", the conversations fre
quently turned on various old traditions re
specting Lounsborough Castle ; and amongst
other legends equally veracious, it was af
firmed that on one occasion, towards the
close of the civil war, a band of round-head
GuerrilUs under Harrison, having suddenly
eurprised the castle, where some Baltic mer
chants of the king's party had taken refuge,
the unfortunate cavaliers had been obliged
to Lurry their money, and having afterwards
made a desperate resistance were all killed
in defence of their precious deposits. So
strong was the attachment of these worthy
traders, to their beloved wealth, that, even
after death, their shadowy forms had often
been seen hovering round the obscure places
of the castle domain, like the ghosts of un
buried heroes on the bank of the Styx. In
dued, it is well known lo have been one of
the most deep-rooted opinions of the olden
lime, that if any person had buried rnonev or
jewels during his life time, his spirit could
take no repose till the treasure was discover
ed. It may seem strange to some readers
that at this late period of history, (here
should have prevailed "such utter darkness
in the people,"' but the author of this little
uarative is well assured of their reality.—
llaud ignota loquor.
The oft repeated and well attested stories
made a deep impression on Hester's mind;
and often when sitting alone in his chimney
corner, lie. would muse upon those marvel
lous circumstances, and reflect with bitter
ness on his own misfortune in being doomed
to live in poverty amidst these countless
hoards of wealth, and perhaps day after day,
to tread it under his feet, without being able
to roach even a single noble—but compelled
to toil through his whole life for a miserable
pittance ofa few shillings a week. One win
ter's night, having retired to bed full of these
melancholy thoughts, he fell into a deep sleep
and dreamed that a sober, business-looking
man, with a lodger under his arm, and a pen
behind Ins ear, appeared at his bed side, and
after giving him a solemn sad sepulchral
look, sucli as becomes a messenger from the
tomb, delivered a portentous injunction to
the following effeel:—Christopher Hobson
was commanded to depart immediately for
London, and when arrived there was order
ed to walk backwards and forwards over
London Bridge for an hour, on three succes
sive nights, immediately after dark, during
which he would hear of some important
event that materially concerned himself and
family.
This vision was so much more vivid, con
sistent and striking 'huti an ordinary dream,
that it left a deep impression on Hester's mind
and he thought of little else the whole of the
following day. But though sufficiently su
perstitious, yet the expense and trouble of u
journey to London were at tint lime mutier
of such serious import, that lie could not bring
himself to resolve on so perilous an underta
king on grounds that he could not help feel
ing lo be rather equivocal. The next night,
however, the same visitation was repeated,
and in terms and in a manner still inure aw
ful and peremptory. His mind now became
quite bewildered, and he began to think se
riously that an admonition, thus solemnly re
peated, could not with safety bo disregarded.
But oil the third night the sceptre appeared
again, and delivered the same injunction with
such an alarmiug and menacing aspect, that
on awakening the next morning, Christopher
hesitated no longer, but began instantly to
make preparations for his journey. Haloid
his family that an affair of importance which
he conld not then explain, required his im
mediate presence in London and begged
them f) defer asking any question* till bis re
lorn.
He next applied to an old friend, a neigh-1
boring farmer. atnl a tenant ol'lii* mnter. lor
the loan of a steady old ho*se which lie had
sometimes borrowed lor short journey*, as
suring him with a misterious air, that he was
going on an afFair of the greatest imiiorlauoe,
in WWrtl*. if he suneeeded, die favor he was
now asking should be amply compensated.
He then took out Irom a small secret store
which he had long been accumulating, a sum
which he sufficient for the journey;
and thus equipped and provided, be boldly
set nut for the metropolis.
Though the autumn was far advanced, and
tho roads consequently very,bad he arrived in
town without any accident, and put up at a
small inn in the borough. to which he had
been recommended. Though he had never
been in London betore, he resolved to lose
no time, but proceeded immediately to busi
ness. The night after his arrival, therefore,
he bolook himself to the foot nf London bridge;
and as soon as he heard St. Paul's clock strike
seven, by which time it was quite dark, he
commenced his wulk, backwards and for
wards over the bridge. He continued this
exercise till he heaid the same clock strike
eight; when, having observed nothing more
remarkable than the coming and going mas
ses of a busy crowd of passengers, he return
ed to his hotel. He was much disappointed
at the ill success of liis first ee-uy, as two
more nights still remained. The serortd
night passed exactly like the first, and he be
gan to be a little disheartened. He commen
ced, however, the labors of the third night
with renovated hope; but when lie heard the
deep-mouthed bell again 101 l eight o'clock, '
his spirit sunk within him. With a heavy >
heart he prepared to quit the bridge, inward
ly cursing his own credulity and the devices
ol Satan, who he doubted not, had lured him
on to this ill-fated expedition.
It may be necessary to remind some of our
readers, that at the period we are speaking
of, the entire length of the London bridge
was flanked by two rows of houses and shops, I
and a great retail busbies was carried on in
thissingular situation. On otic of these shops, j
decorated by the sign of a negro boy with a
pipe in his mouth"!*' Kester Hohaon happened
to cast his eye as he was about to quit the \
bridge—and it reminded him that his tobac- j
co box was empty ; (or the necessities of es
tablished habit will duly recur, even amidst
our sorrows and disappointments. He en
tered the shop therefore with a view of pur
chasing a small supply; and found benind
the counter an elderly, sedate looking qua-
Uer. whose contented atil! well fed person in
dicated the prosperity of his calling? Whilst
weighing the tobacco, he surveyed our York
shire man with some earnestness, and 'hen,
in a tone which expressed a sort ot good-na
tured curiosity, aecostpd him as follows:
"I have observed, friend, with some surprise,
dial lor several nights thou hast employed
thyself lor a considerable time in walking to
and fro across this bridge, and thy anxious
looks seemed to expect something very par
ticular; 1 am afraid thou hast been waiting
tor some person who has disappointed thee
and failed in his engagement. If any advice j
or information of mine can be of any use, as
thou seemest to be a stranger in London, 1
should be glad to offer tbee any assistance trt
my power." Our hearts are never more
warmed than by an offer of kindness in a
strange place and amongst strange people.—
Renter Hobson possessed, perhaps a greater
portion than usual of that mixture of simpli
city and cunning, which bos been so often
ascribed to his countrymen, but though al
ways a little on his guard, he was not quite
proof against this open and disinterested kinu
ness. He expressed Ins thanks very heartily,
but declared he was quite ashamed to confess
his business in London, and the nature of
those night-walks which had excited the at
tention of the honest tobacconist. By de
grees, however, his inquisitive friend got out
of him, that he had. in fact, been deeply mor
tified and disappointed; that he had expected
to meet with a very particular person or oc
currence on the London bridge; and, in short,
that he had undertaken a long, expensive,
and laborious journey to London, merely at
the instigation of a dream. He suppressed,
however, his name and resilience, from a
vague apprehension that such disclosure
might by possibility expose him lo ridicule,
or some other unpleasant consequence.
The Quaker heard this strange confession
with much surprise, and then replied with
great solemnity. "It strikes me with aston
ishment, my good friend, that a man of thy
decent and sober appearance should have
come lo a journey of two or three hundred
miles on such an errand us this! I thought
such vain immigrations and weak supersti
tion* had long h.m o been eschewed by ail
men of sense, and abandoned lo children
and old women. It is deplorable to think
that thy parents and instructors did not lake
care to root out all such idle fannies in early
lile, and then wimlom might peradventurn
have come with years and experience.—
" However," continued he, "it does not be
come me to erect mine horn uloft, and look
down upon the weak and ignorant, because
my own lot has (alien in better places. If 1
have been hitherto enabled lo turn aside
from all such vain devices, is it not because
having been brought up, as it were, at the
feet of Gamaliel, I have learnt from ( he les
sons of a wise lather the ways of truth and
soberness' And yet," added he, smiling at
Christopher, " 1 can assure thee, friend, that
if I have constantly kept clear of all such de
lusions, it has not been lor lack of tempta
tion. I have *ll my life long, been a great
dreamer; and olten my midnight visions
have been so express and surprising, that it
haa required the strong arm of truth and rea
son (o resist their allurements. Even this
.T
Truth and It iff lit God and our Country.
verv last night 1 was beset with this tetnpta
lion. I dreamed that an elderly man, in a
snuff-brown coat, with a pen stuck behind
I his ear, earne to my bedside, and told me,
' that if I went into a hack garden, belonging
10 an ancient castle in Yorkshire, and dug
the ground under the stone seat of an old
Gothic summer house, I should find a great
treasure. "Now." continued lie with a look
of conscious superiority, "if I had been as
foolish as thou, I might have neglected my
business and set off on a toilsome journey,
in search of ihis imaginary treasure " Here
Hester Hobson who had thus far thought the
good Quaker's harangue rather prosy and te
dious, began M puck up hie ears as Ihe an
cient poets express it;'for he was well aware
there was exactly such summer house
as this, ina retired garden in the grounds of
Lounsborough castle. His countenance be
trayed visible agitation: but unfortuuate'y he
stood in a dark part of the shop, where the
light did not fall upon.his face. He could
hardly forbear shouting with exultation: but
hy a violent effort he suppressed hia emotion,
and replied as indifferently as he could that
it was true he had been guilty of a great
weakness, but he hoped he should be wiser
for ihe future.
It is useless to say that Kester treasured up
this momentous information carefully in his
mind, and soon after look leave ot hia valua
ble friend. "We shall soon see," thought
he exiiltingiy, ' which of us two is the wiser
man in his generation." Tho next day he
took his departure for Yorkshire, and in a
hnut a week rpached his home in safety.—
011 the very night of his arrival, lie dismiss
ed his family to bed HI good limp, telling
them that lie had some accounts lo settle,
which required him to be alone. When the
household was all sunk in repose he look a
spade and a lantern, and repaired iu silence
to the old summer house. He removed the
stone seat, took up the pavement, and after
digging about three feet deep, he fell the
spade strike against some hard substance !
His nerves were alt agitation—but be went
on and soon drew out a largo eari.'iern jar of
the capacity of half a bushel, fastened with
a wooden cover H • eag-irlv broke it open,
and founo it quite filled with gold coins of
the reigns of Elizane h, James the first, and
Charles the first. He instantly conveyed it
home, and got it safely locked up HI his desk
without the least interruption.
| Hester Hnbsou'a wile was, like himself,
famoii- for pic.ismoo ay.l reserve, and to her
therefore but no' his daughters lie deierm ined
in rev<al the secret. They used their treas
ure cautiously and discreetly, to avoid par
ticular remark or co jecuire ; and he often
laughs in his sleeve at the good Quaker's
sage discourse, and airs of lotty superiority.
He thought himsell dispensed train making
any disclosure to his noble master, for tho'
a man ot lair character and reasonably hon
est when temptation did not me-s htm too
hard, yet on the present occasion, he thought
all he had got was the lair reward of bis
own acuteness and perseverence.
A Deaoiiful Extract*
We clip the following beautiful and truth
ful extract from an exchange the name of
which has escaped our memory. Let it bo
considered well.
The past is secure. It is unalterable. The
seal nf eternity is upon it. The wisdom
which it lias displayed oannot bo obscured ;
neither can they be debased by human folly
or hnrnan infirmity. The future is that which
may well awaken the most earnest solici
tude, both for the virtue nnd permanence of
nut Republic. The fate of other Republics,
their rise, their progress, their decline and
iheir fall, are written but 100 legibly on the
pages of history, if indeed they weie not
continually hefora us in the startling frag
ments of their ruins. They have perished, and
perished by their own hands. Prosperity ener
vated them, corruption debasod them, and a
venal populace consummated their destruc
tion. They have sometimes been cheated
out of their liberties by servile demagogues;
sometimes betrayed into a surrender ot them
hy false patriots. They have disregarded the
warning voice of their best statesmen; and hive
persecuted and driven from nfficc their best
friends. They have reverenced power more
in its high abuses and summary movements,
than in its calm arid constitutional energy.— '
They have surrendered to faction what be-
I longed to Ihe country. Patronage and part),'
the triumph of a leader, and the discontents
of aday, have outweighed all solid princi
ples and institutions of government.
Such are the melancholy les-ons of the
past history of the Republics, down to our
own. Let the history ol the Grecian and
Italian States warn us of danger. Let the
American youth never forget that they pos
sess a noble inheritance, bought by the toils
and sufferings, and blood of iheir ancestors ;l
and capable, if wisely improved and faith
fully guarded, of transmitting to their latest
posterity ail the substantial blessings of life,
Ihe peaceful enjoyment of liberty, properly,
religion, and independence. The structure
has been erected bv architects of consum
mate skill and fidelity; its arrangements are
lull of wisdom and order; its foundations sol
id, and its defences are impregnable from
without. It has been reared for immortality,
it the work ol man may justly aspire to such
a title. It may, nevertheless, perih man
hour by the folly, or corruption, or negli
gence of its only keepers, Ihe People. He
publios are created by the virtue, public spir
it, and intelligence of the citizens. They fall,
when the wist are banished ft om the public coun
cils, because they dare to be honest, and the prof
ligate are rewarded because they fatter the peo
ple in order to betray then.
THE JtAMHFdI. LOVER.
" Faint heart never won fair lady
" Now there was never anything truer than
that same adage," said Aunt Abbie, looking
up from her hook.
I have just been thinking whether Ch'tlgg
would ever muster courage enough to pro
pose, and so 1 came to give utterance to my
impatience. He had cleared bis throat, 1
a< positive, at least twenty times, prepar
atory to breathing Ihe trembling avowal, while
I sal demuringly blushing and expectant; but
the words never came off, —real intelligence
and unparalleled timidity—l exclaimed
aloud—
"Faint heart never won fair lady."
Hence auntie's re joiner—
"There was never anything truer than that,
Grace; French or English, German or Italian.
Tis a truthful saying, as my own experience
will show."
"Oh, tell me all about it," sai'l I, "do tell
me all about it, and be the nicest leve of an
auntie."
Aunt Abbie closed her book, fixed herself
comfortably in ihe arm chair, and commenced
as follows:
" Now, Grace, your L'r.cle Ralph was my
particular favorite, even when I was a little
live year old girl, rejoicing in pantalettes and
pinafores. I can remember he used to lead
me and carry my dinner basket, till we came
in sight of the school houao; then ha would
give me back my basket, and run with all
possible speed into school, much to my as
tonishment. As I grew older, 1 knew it wus
to hide the mortifying fact oi coming with
the girls. When I reached the age of fifteen,
(Ralph was nineteen,) 1 was packed off to
hoarding school, about the same time he
commenced his college course. Our vaca
caiions occurring at different periods, we did
not meet iu three tears. Aleigtneen, Icatne
home, the least bit in the world tinged with
romance, a trifle coquettish, with u goodly
quantity ol vanity, created by receiving sun
dry hints from my mirror and several gentle
men that 1 was very pretty. People called
me 'stuck up' at first, which shocked me so
much, that I dropped all my fine lady airs,
ran about the village, chatted with all the
old ladies, until the whole village wondered
how tney ever came tu ihink me proud.—
About this time Ralph came home, and es
tablished himself as a law practitioner. Ha
had grown exceedingly haniUoma, while his
timidity had kept pace with his improved
looks—it seemed really morbid. People'alked
enthusiastically of his maiden plea—and all
agreed in pronouncing biui a very clever
young man, who was ultimately to nuke a
figure in the world. But could you have seen
him iu the presence of ladies—at first I piti
ed his embarrassment; but it finally excited a
feeling nearly allied to conterup t. He came
to our house frequently ; brother Harry and
he were boon companions. From many cir
cumstances I felt nearly satisfied that Ralph
cared lor me, and I hardly knew whether the
consciousness of it yielded me more pleasure
or pain. There was a nervousness iu his
manner when we chanced to he left alone
together, that seemed so ludicrous, and com
municated a sort of a vkward feeling to me,
that I avoided him as much as possible. 1
■lid not quite understand my own heart end
1 did not seek to analyze the sentiments there
in.
j "One evening in September, wo had taken
chairs out into the front yard. Father was
reading the la'at market prices; mother was
knitting, while Ralph and Harry were plan
ning a hunting excursion. 1 sauntered down
: lo the gale, leaned over it, and tried to think.
My destiny must be decided that night
That day 1 received n letter from Jas. Buns,
a rising physician in a neighboring town,
| written iu just the straightforward, honest,
earnest manner that 1 admired, and which
! characterized the man. But could I return
| the earnest love which was breathed in ev
. ery line? Ralph's imago protruded itself in
1 reply lo my query. Then I wondered wheth
' er Ralph evor loved me, and if he did, would
he ever dare to tell ine so ? While thus oc
cupied, 1 hea'd him coming down the lane.
He stood by my side, and spoke something
ol the beauty of the evening. I replied at
random, not comprehending what he said.
He smiled a little, and observed thai pleasant
thoughts must occupy tne.
"Yes," said I, abstractedly, for I was real
ly thinking aloud. "I must answer Dr. Burls'
letter tu-night, and am looking the mailer
over."
"Dr. Burts' letter!" he reiterated, turning
quite around as he spoke. "He asked you
to marry him?"
1 bowed assent.
"But you will not, Abbie," said he io a
low, tremulous voice.
1 was getting completely exasperated with
such a dog-in-tlie-manger fellow. I looked
at hitn and indignantly exclaimed—
" Why not, pray? What difference can it
make lo you ?"
"Oh," said he,' I had—l don't know real-
Iv, —I—l1—I never heard anything of it before.
'Twas new—l don't know quite what 1 was
thinking about. Good night."
1 married Dr. Burt. Hu was a kind, indul
gent husband, and the two short years of my
wedded life were spent quietly and content
edly by me ; and mine was a real sorrow
when I stood in my widow's weeds by his
grave, and saw hitn buried out of my sight.
"One evening, a little more than a year af
ter his death, I had been to pay a parting visit
to his resting plaoa, for I was to start the next
morning to my olden borne ones again. I
was returning slowly from the solemn, quiet
old churchyard, when I heard ■ quick tread
behind ma. I quickened my own pace, but
was arrested by an eager, lam iliar voice Close
beside roe.
"Abbie ! Abbie! listen a moment—l must
speak to you. I want to tell you how much
I love you. I cannot tell you exactly when
it began, 1 think when I was quite a boy.—
Do you care anything for me, Abbie!"
"1 looked up into his face. 'Twas Ralph's
countenance, but no awkward flush marred
its fine intellectual beauty, but lore beamed
from his dark eye, as he leaned earnestly
forward lo hear my answer. I placed my
hand,ii) his ——
JIM at this part of the narrative, I was star-
a noise near the door, having a close
resemblance to a suppressed laugh. We both
turned in the direction of the sound. There
stood Uncle Ralph, \t ith the merriest twinkle
in his gray eyes.
"Now Grace," said he, "you may write
it off, and send it to the newspapers."
"And so 1 will," said I; "but I can't be
lieve you was evar a bashful man.
GRACE GARLAND.
Spain as she wns and as she Is.
Nations, like individuals, are liable to ex
traordinary changes in their power and fortune.
This is clearly palpable to all who glance
back tit the ancient nations, lo Rome and
Greece iu their days of glory; and who then
turn to their present comparitively power
less condition und ruin, But the history of
Spain affords atintlier striking instance of
the decline of nations. Macaulay, in one ot
his admirable essays, forcibly remarks, that
whoever wishes to be well acquainted with
the morbid anatomy of Governments, who
ever wishes lo know how great States may
be made feeble and wretched, should study
the history of Spain. He says the empire
of Philip the Second was undoubtedly one
of the most powerful and splendid that ever
existed in the wotld. In Europe lie ruled
Spain, Portugal, the Netherlands on both
sides of the Rhine, Franche Comte, Kousil
lion, the Milanese, and the two Sicilies.
Tuscany, Parma, and the other small Stales
of Italy, ware as completely dependent on
him as the Nizam and the Rajah of Berar
now ate on the East India Company. In
Aisa, the King of Spain was master of the
Philipines, and of all thoso rich settlements
which the Portuguese had made on the coasts
ol Malabar and Commands!, in Ihe Penin
sula of Malacca, and in the Spice Islands of
the Eastern Archipelago. In America, his
dominions extended mi each eido of the
equator into the temperate zone. There is
lesson lo believe that his annual revenue
amounted, in the season of his greatest pow
er, to four million sterling; a sum eight times
as large as that which England yielded to
Elizabeth. He had a standing army of fifty
thousand excellent troops, at a time when
England bad not a single battalion in con
stant pay. His ordinary naval forces con
sisted of a hundred and forty galleys. He
held, what no other prince in modern times
has held, the dominion both of the land and
ol the sea. During the greater part of his I
reign he was supreme on both elements.—
His soldiers marched up to the capital of
France; ins ships menaced the shores of Eng
land. At the same time, Spain had what
Napoleon desired in vain—ships, colonies,
and commerce. She long monopolized the
trade of America and of the Indian Ocean.
All the Gold of Ihe West, and all the spices
ol tho East, were received and distributed by
her.
' But how art thou fallen from Heuven, O!
Lucifer, sou of the morning. How art thou
cut down to the ground, that didst weaken
the nr.tions.
j If we overleap a hundred years, and look
ut Spain towards the close of the seventeenth
century, what a change do we find! The
contrast is as great as that which the Rome
of Gallienus and Honorius presents to the
Rome of Marius and Ctusar.
At tha present day, the condition of Spain
is indeed deplorable. The discovery of tho
New World is now deprived of all its
mighty possessions oil this glorious continent,
while even the parent nation is, in a great
measure, an instrument in the hands of other
Enropeun powers. Torn anil agitated by do
mestic convulsions, she has just passed
through several fierce and bloody civil wars,
and the lust advices indicate that she is on
the eve of another change. And what is the
secret ot this deterioration? Macaulay says
that all tha causes nf the decay of Spain re
solve themselves into one cause—bad gov
ernment. What a lesson to nations I
" A FEW DAYS."—This seems lo be ail
the rage at present. The Louisville Times
thus takes it off, which suits this secliou ex
ceedingly well:
" You present a man a small account, he
will pay you in a few days: preity girls ex
peel to marry in a few days ; the nigger boys
whistle a few days; brass hands blow out iu
a lew days; high fellows sing a few days;
and we expect to givo our readers some in
teresting local news in a few days.,'
And we are hoping that a great many of
our subscribers will send the amount of their
dues in a few days. In fact we know they
will, for some of them have been promising
to " do that little thing" every few days, for
a year or two. We expect then, to be "in
funds" in a few days.
A YOUNG LADY, who had weathered many
summera at the seaside, was accused ol dye
ing ber bair, which ia of a raven black. She
declared in tba moat indignant manner, tbat
there wee not the slightest troth in the accu
sation—mora than this, she generously offer
ed to let any one examine her bair, to eeo
bow faleo it was!
[Two Dollars per ABBBB.
NUMBER 43.
ntSSIA ANO TURKEY.
In reading a recent essay of an eminent
French writer of our day on Siberia, (Trillan
dier, we oould not fail to be struck with hie
absolute conviction, expressed in September
last, that all the heroic sacrifices and efforts
of Grent Britain and France do but serve to
retard a little the inevitable conquest of Con
stantinople by Russia. We translate tb pas
sage as follows:
" I have spoken of the danger of the flOTre.
! It is difficult, in fact, if we attempt to prediet
the final lesult of the groat crisis which bold*
the world in suspense—it is difficult, I say,
to resist the conviction that fftßsia will one
day be the mistress of ConstantinopMßlt is
not, it seems to me, to be wanting
ism to attempt to see the reality wilhout al
lusion. I believe that we shall accomplish
gteat things in the East. 1 believe that we
: are pursuing a policy truly national—a policy
' at once chivalric and considerate, (cktvaler
| esque et reflectrie.) I believe that we are de
fending the right liberty—Western civllize
: tion—and that we are heroically sacrificing
| the elite of our army for a cause by which in
\ dulent Get many will profit more than we. I
believe, then, that we are doing our duty,
! ami that we are faithful to our mission as
| soldiers of God, as Shnkspeare calls us. But,
j in lime, when we shall have destroyed Se
vastopol—when we shall have finished the
1 annihilation of the Russian fleet in the Black
j Sea —when we shall have become mastera
1 of the Crimea, and the invasion 0? the Turk
' ish F.rnpire by the soldiere of the Czar shall
i be retarded one hundred years—in aoentury
' and a half, the same question wilt always re-
I appear. Russia is persevering; the West is
1 the plaything ( jonet ) of a perpetual mobility.
| What security is possible when it is necessa
-1 ry to watch without ceasing ? Can we be
' assured that this indispensaLle vigilance will
I ttevnr be lound at fault 1 Will not a minis
! leriai crisis in London or a revolution in Par
is suffice for the realization of the projects of
I'eter the Great, of Catharine 11., andofNich
| olai 'f Russia will not again commit tbe fault
{ of sending to Constantinople a pompous and
: insolent embassy; a coup de mam will put an
end to the whole question. The subtle and
indsfnligable diplomacy ot the Czars, the
ambition of a new people animated by an ar
dent faith, impatient to perform its role upon
the scene of the world, the divisions, the in
stability, the materialism of our old societies
—all will concur ono day lo this denouement,
which seems inevitable."
Cy Stop that boy I A cigar in bis mouth,
a swagger in his walk, impudence in his
face, a care-for-nothingness in his manner
Judging from his demeanor, be is older than
his father, wiser than bis teacher, more hon
ored than the Mayor of the town, higher than
the President. Stop him ! he is going 100
fast. He don't soe himself as others see him.
He don't kr.ow his speed. Slop him eie to
bacco shatters his nerve, ere pride ruin bis
character, ere the loafer master the man,
ere good ambition and manly strength give
way to low pursuits and brutish aims. Stop
all such boys! They are legion : the sbame
of their families, the disgrace ol their town,
the sad and solemn reproaches of them
selves.
ty A gentleman riding down a steep hill,
and tearing ffie foot of it was unsound, call
ed out lo a clown who was ditching, and asked
him if it was hard at the bottom. "Ay," an
-1 swered the countryman, "it is hard enough
at the boilom, I warrant you.' But in half a
dozen steps the horse sunk up 10 the saddle
girths, which made the gentleman whip,
"pur and swear. "Why, thou rascal'."said
he, "didst thou not tell mo it was bard a< tbe
bottom 1" "Ay," replied the fellow, "but
you are not half way to the bottom yet."
ry The Albany Argus tells a story of a
< man buying oats, a few days since, who gave
j <t fifty dollar bill in mistake for a five. On
j discovering the blunder, and hastening to
i have it rectified, he found tho recipient of it
| deliberately rubbing out the cypher ou the
| bill, in order to make his cash account square
i with his funds. An exchange of a "five"
for a "fifty" saved (he latter from further de
facement, and fully satisfied both parties.
A PLAIN-SPOKEN WITNESS.—" Facts are
stubborn things," said a lawyer to a female
witness under examination. The lady re
plied : " Ye s, sir-ee; and so are women, and
if you get anyihing'out of me, just let me
know it." "You'll be commitied for con
tempt." „ Very well, I'll suffer justly, for I
feel the utmost contempt for every lawyer
present."
ty " I LOVE YOU, Ruth. You have sure
ly been able to discern it. My love is ar
dent aud sincere—oh, say that you'll return
it I" " Return it, Paul f No, no, not I. I've
striven hard to gain it; and now I,ve gob it,
by your leave, I'd rather far retain it."
Old Worthy says lie likes to see young la
dies walking the streets on Sunday in tbeir
silks with holes in their socks, as it proves
they are more attentive lo things above than 1
below.
tW If you desire to obtsin tho good will
of tbe cook, depart from tbe alriot principles
of the truth, and tell ber that her btead it the
beet you have ever eaten.
XW A mosquito's bladder was recently
dissected ont weal, and was found to contain
the aonleof twenty-five misere k and the for
tunes of ten printers.