THE STAR OP THE NORTH.
R. W. Reaver Proprietor.]
VOLUME 7.
THE STAR OF THE NORTH
IS PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY MOKNINU BY
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TIIE SHEPHERD'S RESOLUTION.
[This fine old song was written by George
Wither; a satirical writer of ths times
James and Charles the First. It is extracted
from one of his long piscatorial poems, enti
tled, " The Mistress ot Philarele," published
ia 1622 ]
Shall I waiting in diapair:
Die, because a woman's fair'
Or make pale my cheeks with care,
-'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flower meads in May—
If she be riot so to me,
What care I how fair she be?
Shall my foolish heart be pained,
'Cause I see a woman kind*
Or a well-disposed nature
Joined with a lovely feature ?
Be she meeker, kinder than
The turtle-dove or pelican,
If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be ?
Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love ?
Or her well deservings known,
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness blest,
Whioh mßy merit name of best,
If she be not such to me,
What care I how good she be?
>'Cause her fortune seems too high,
Shall I play the fool, and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find,
Think, what with (hem tl.ey would do,
That without them dare to woo ;
And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?
Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair,
If she love me, this believe
I will die ere she shall grieve,
If she slight me when I woo
I can scorn and let her go ;
It she be r.ot fit for me,
What care I for whom she be?
British Fiilibustering amf Annexation In
East India-
While the British Journals, without an ex
ception scarcely, are loud in their denuncia
tion of what they are pleased to call the greed j
of territory oi the United States, and pretend j
to see magnificent schemes of conquest by !
the American people, the British government j
is engaged in a species of fillibustering and (
conquest in India which exceeds the wildest ,
dreams of manifest destiny in this country. —
Two Eastern kingdoms, Nizam and, Oudo,
the former a country of over ninety-seven
thousand square miles, bordering on Bom- :
bay and Madras, and the latter bordering on I
Nepaul and Bengal, with an area of nearly
thirty thousand square miles, after enjoying
an English protectorate of an equivocal char
acter, are to be eiezed and added as posses
sions to tha British provinces in India. The
London Times announces the fact with com
mendation, instead of the indignation it leels
whenever It looks westward and sees, or fan
cies il sees, the inarch of American empire,
(t says:
"In Oude we have a Government steeped
to the hips in profligacy, debauchery, cruel
ty, and avarice, plundering and murdering
its subjects without mercy, and allowing
them in return to plunder and murder each
other—-a barber for a Prime Miaister, a fid
dler for a Chief Justice, a revenue collected
at the cannon's mouth, a Court alternately di
verted by cruel sports or by orgies at wbich
Nero or Heliogabalus might blush, by bloody
executions, and by dangerous fanaticism
This is the State that we tolerate on the very
frontier of lbs peaceful province of Bengal,
and within a few days—soon to be dimin
ished to a few hours—journey from Calcut
ta l
One of its correspondents says "it is cer
tain annexation cannot be long delayed, and
Oude will pay splendidly." Here is a real bnc
canneering project, avowedly prompted by
the most mercenary motives; but which, it
is not improbable, is a movement towards
still more extended acquisitions, not in India
alone, but in Chins, to which the present dis
iraoted condition of affairs in that country in
vite an easy conquest. With such schemes
as these in actual progress, sanctioned by the
British goverment, how hypocritical are its
denunciations of fillibustering, and how con
temptible its fears of such unauthorized un
dertakings as Walker's, wbich go forth in se
crecy with the ban of the American govern
ment upon them!— Ledger.
THE SOCIETY OF HEAVEN.—The society of
heaven constitutes one of its chief attractions.
We will doubtless carry the social principle
with us into the eternal world. The fact that
our souls are divested tor a season by death
of the bodies that now encase tliera, will not
deprive them of the privilege of communi
cating their thoughts and feelings to each
other, and deriving happinere therefrom. The
same God who furnished them with the fac
ulty of speech for that purpose, while in the
body, can very easily supply them with the
>meana of inter-communication in their new
state of being. Abraham and Dives coold
interchange thoughts though one was in
heaven and the other In hell. Lazarus was
carried into Abr n-m's bosom, a Hebrew
eapression for be r brought into the post
jailmate relations with him
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY. DECEMBER 13, 1855.
PERSONA LI LIES OF LITERATI.
3ERROJLD.
Douglas Jerrold, a well known contributor
to Punch, and editor of various publications,
is a man about 60 years of age, and in per
son is remarkably epare and diminutive.—
His lace is sharp, angular, and bis eye is
a greyish hue. He is probably one of the
most caustic writers of the age, and, with
keen sensibility, he often writes under the
impulse of the moment articles which big
cooler judgment condemns. Although a be
liever in hydropathy, his habits do not con
form to the internal application of Adam's
ale. His Caudle Lectures have been read
by every one. In conversation he is quick
at retort—not always refined. He is a hus
band and a'grandfatber.
MACAULAY.
The Hon. T. B. Macaulay is short in stst
ure, round, and with a growing lendenoy to
aldermanic disproportions. His head has the
same rotundity as his body, and seems stuck
on it as firmly as a pin-head. This is nearly
the sum of his personal defects; all else, ex
cept the voice (which is monotonous and
disagreeable), is certainly in his favor. His
face seems literally instinct with expression;
his eyes, above ail, full of deep thought and
meaning. As he walks, or rather straggles,
along the street, he seems in a stale of total
abstraction, unmindful of all that is going
on around him, and solely occupied with his
own working mind. You cannot help think
ing that literature with him is not a mere
profession or pursuit, but that it has almost
grown a part of himself, as though historical 1
problems or analytical criticisms were a part
of bis daily food.
BAILEY.
A correspondent of the Tribune, writing
from Nottingham, England, says:
"I have seen Bailey, the author of'Feslus.'
His father is proprietor of the Nottingham
Mercury, and the editorial department rests
with him. He is a thick set sort of a man ;
of a stature below the middle size; complex
ion dark, and in years about eight-and-lhirty.
His physiognomy would be clownish in ex
pression if his eyes did not redeem his other
features. He spoke of 'Festus,' and of its
fame in America, of which he seems very
proud. In England it has only reached its
third edition, while eight or nine have been
published in the United States."
DE QUINCEY.
He is one of the smallest legged, smallest
bodied, and most attenuated elfigies of the
human form divine that one could find in a
crowded city during a day's walk. And if
one adds to this figure clothes that are neith
er fashionably cnt nor fastidiously adjusted,
I e will have a tolerably rough idea ot De
tjuincey. But then his brow, that pusher,
his obtrusive hatto the back partofhis head,
and his light grey eyes, that do not seem to
look out, but to be turned inward, sounding
the depths of his imagination, and searching
out the mysteries of the most abstruse logic,
are something that you would search a week
to find the mates to, and then you Mould be
disappointed. De Quincey now resides at
La-sawade, a romantic rural village, once
the residence of Sir Waller Scott, about sev
dPmiles from Edinburg, Scotland, where an
affectionate daughter watches over him, and
where he is the wonder of the country peo
ple for miles around.
LAMARTINE.
Lamartine is—yes young ladies, positive
ly—a prim looking man with a long face,
shott, grey hair, a slender figure, and a suit
of black. Put a pen behind his ear and he
would look like a "confidential clerk." Give
his lace more character and he would remind
you of Henry Clay. He has 3 fine head,
phrenologically speaking—large and round
3t the top, with a spacious forehead, and a
scant allotment of cheek. Prim is the word,
though. There is nothing in his appearance
which ia ever so remotely suggestive of the
romantic. He is not even pale, anJ as for a
rolling shirt collar, or a Byronic tie, ho is not
the man to think of such things. Roman(rd*
in fact, is the article he lives by, snd, like
other men, he chooses to "sink the shop,"
at least when he sits for his portrait.
DUMAS.
On the contrary, is a burly fellow. His
large, red, round cheeks stand out, till they
seem to stretch the very skin that covers
tbem, and it looks as smooth as a polished
apple. His black crisped hair is piled high
above bis forehead, and stands divided into
two unequal masses, one inclining to the
right, and the other to the left. His eyes are
dark, and his mouth sensnous,bm not to the
degree of vulgarity. His person is large, and
his flowing mantle red. He is a gentleman
to lay bare his throat, and look romantio, not
Byronically so, but piratically. Yet he looks
good humored, and like a man whose capaci
ty for physical enjoyment is boundless. His
negro blood is evident enough to one who
knows he has it; but it would not be detect
ed by one who knew it not. It appears in
the peculiar rotundity of the man and ail
his parts; it crisped and heaped his hair; it
made him dress up in flowing red, to have
his portrait taken. But his complexion is
only a shade darker than the average. The
portrait reminds us for a moment of the late
Thomas Hamlin, the actor.
EUGENE SUE.
Is neither prim nor bnrley. He is a man
of large freme, over whioh a loose black
cost is carelessly buttoned. Complexion
light, eyes blue, bait once black, now pep
per snd salt, whiskers voluminous, eyebrows
black and thick, good forehead, and the low
er face ample: This conveys no better idea
of the man's appearance than a French pass
port. But ths truth is, Bue's countenance
and figuts have none of thoae pecaliaritiea
which make description possible. He looks
in his portrait like a comfortable, careless,
elderly gentleman, taking his ease in a chair
and easy coat. He does not look like an
author—authors seldom do. His hair is rath
er that of a prosperous citizen. Sue is only
forty-five years old, bat he has lived fast
and looks fifty-five. Lamartine is sixty-three,
and would pass easily for fifty-three. Dumas
is fifty, and could get credit for thirty-eight.
Extravagance In Living.
Scarcely a week goes by, that we are not
called upon to record some sad calamity in
social life, the result of extravagance in liv
ing. The evil is one of the vices of the
times. The old-fashioned system of living
within one's means, is repudiated—and high
rents ana jpagnificenl furniture are the order
of the day. In the olden time moderation
and economy formed the basis on which the
young were disposed to act. But now, it is
far otherwise. The young man who thinks
of matrimony, must in the first place, be
prepared to rent a house at four or five hun
dred dollars a year, to furnish it at cost of
one or twb thousand, and then live accord
ingly. The consequence is that very few
make the venture. They are deleted by
the prospect before them, and are in-'luced
to hold back. Or, if they venture, how of
ten do they struggle on for a year or two,
and then discover that they have made a
mis-step, and ard either compelled to re-!
trench or involve themselves in ruin. Would
it not be well for some of the Reformers of |
the day to undertake the cute of this social \
evil. It is one of a truly serious character,
and its consequences are often deplorable, j
Young ladies, too, are taught by the same
system, that of wild extravagance, to expect !
impossibilities. There may le half a dozen
daughters living in good style under the pro
tection of a father, and each expects, on
marrying, to eclipse everything at hofne. A
young man, who is prudent and moderate, j
is pronounced as narrow end mean, while a 1
spend thrift, or a braggart is too often regar-!
ded as exactly the thing. Late hours, large !
parties, abundance of wine and other luxu- j
ries. are now regarded as among the cssen
lials of genteel society, and without them,
everything is voted common-place and vul '
gar The whole is not only hollow and arli-!
ficial, but it is demoralizing. It in the first;
place, induces extravagance; in ths second,
dissipation : in the third, neglect of business, |
and in the end, utter ruin. The story has
been told again and again, but the vice still
exists. There is scarcely a reader who can
not point out some sad example in his imme
diate neighborhood and among his most inti
mate friends. Only a few days ago, a dash-1
ing fashionable ir. a neighboring city, was
sold out by the sheriff. The members of his
family had committed the error of the hour, ;
had advanced beyond their depth, lived ;
above their means, and hence the cataslro* !
phe, and this is no extraordinary case. The 1
folly of extravagance may be seen on all
sides, and in individuals too, who find it dif- j
ficult to make both ends meet. Often the 1
husband is at fault—sometimes the wife, and j
again both. False pride and a desire to ere- !
ate a sensation, bewilder and lead astray. It 1
is, 100, so difficult to be modest and moder
ate where others are inflated and excited.—
The penalty, however, is often fearful; and
when some adversity is encountered and the
blow falls suddenly—how difficult it is to
wrestle with misfortune! Moderation is a
saving vtnue, it should be practiced daily
and hourly ; moderation, not only ir. speech
and in tone, but in tempe', in prejudice and
in expenditure. Alas ! for the many who
have repented, in sackcloth and ashes, the
madness of another course. Alas / for the
hundreds who are now hurrying on wildly
and blindly, and who by violence and ex
travagance, are sowing the seeds of a bitter
harvest. The day of reckoning may be at
hsnd.— Penn. Inquirer.
The Spirit ol Religion. -
Many things are charged upon religion for
which it is not responsible. The bad con
due! and ill temper of professors, and the se
vere and uncharitable spirit with which they
often enforce the most obvious truths and du
ties, is not chargeable upon religion, ft is
the result oi having the bead enlightened with
the theory of religion, without having the
heart imbued with its spirit.
The spirit of true religion breathes gentle
ness and tenderness. It is mild and affable,
and gives a native unaffected ease to the be
havior. It is social, kind and cheerful. It
lifts from the brow the cloud of care and
gloom whioh spreads so dark a shade over
humanity, and lights up the countenance with
the sunshine of benevolence and hope. The
spirit of religion is the spirit of peace, the
spirit of love, the spirit of social order and
friendship, the spirit of hope, the spirit of jny,
the spirit of heaven.
FOJ.LV OF PBlOE.—After all, take some qui
et, sober moment of life, and add together
the two ideas ot pride and of man ; behold
him, creature ole span high, stalking throngh
infinite spree, in all the grandeur of littleness
Perched on a speck of the universe, every
wind ol Heaven strikes into his blood the
coldness ol death; his soul floats from his
I body like melody from the string; day and
night, as dust on the wheel, he is rolled
along the heavens through a labyrinth of
worlds, and all the creatures of God are
flaming above and beneath. Is this a crea
ture to make himself a crown of glory to
deny bis flesh, to mock at his fellow, sprung
from the dust to which both will soon re
turn* T-W-WB
Troth and Bight Gad and ©or Contry.
Henry A. Wise on Kuow-Nothlngism
From a very poweriul letter written by Gov.
Wise of Virginia, to a meeting of National
Democrats in New York, we lake tho follow
ing eloquent extracts. Gov. Wise is a trui
American, and the manner in which he di
rects his blows against bastard Americans, is
quite refreshing. Hear him l
As to the secret "Americans"—the know
' nothings—day has broke upon them. And
it is amusing to soe Sam's bats and owls of
midnight, flitting ar.d flapping, blind, about
in the sunlight. They are seeking sorrily to
skulk from light and sight—here some flap
Back to poor, deserted whiggery, and there
some escape to the "republican" fusion. The
day has dissolved the charm. The true bird
of America, Jove's own oagie, hs on a wing
that never tires, in the lambent light of the
mid-heavens. Uncle Sam has roused him
self and shaken oft the slumber and stupor of
the night dreams, and is at his active work in
broad day.
The devil baited the hooks of some preach
ers with the politics of the Pope's big toe,
and the books of some politicians with the
unco-righteousness of a knavish priestcraft,
and set them bobbing together for the souls
of dupes, for the corruption of the church,
and for the destruction of the State. No heal
but one could have ever welded such a fu-
I sion. In the shades they were taught their
parts by the gloom-light of the dark lantern !
But
"Trie sJ'i ' 8 ' n heavens, and life on earth!"
Day ha.s c'aoght them in their incantations,
and light fc dispelling their mysteries. The
next you will bO> Sam > hB wi " be " n his
knees praying agaii lß ' slavery and John Bar
leyoorn. He has Fope Pins Nonus,
and has just discovered, attcf a " b ® ' ias sa ' t '
about his holiness, supremacy, every
naturalized Catholic takes an oath e*'pt? Bß 'y
to renounce oil allegiance to any and every
prince, power, potentate, king, sovereign, or
State, and particularly to the prince, power,
potentate, king, sovereign, or State, of which
he was before a subject. And he begins to
admit that an extra-judicial oath may bind a
know-nothing to passive obedience and
non-resistance to an unseen, intangible, irre
sponsible, secret oligarchy, perchance, we
may rely on the judicial oaths of naturalized
citizens to renounce allegiance to all supre
macy whatever, except the sovereignty of the
United States of North America.
I give you ihe right hand of fellowship in
opposition to the sumptuary laws which have
of late years disgraced the codes of some of
our Stales. Why some legislatures seem to
have lost the horn-boolts of persona! liberty!
They are for free soil and free negroes, but
war upon the liberties of free white men!—
They seem to have never known that there
were such things, first invented in North
America, as bills of lights defining those
which are inalienable and fixing the limits
of legislation ! Where was the principle of
liquor laws to stop ? Nowhere short of inva
ding every inalienable right of individual
man. If municipal law cannot touch vested i
rights, much le6B can it invade the natural
rights of the individual person. In such a
dominion as that of England they may hard
ly dare to confine the rights of the person to
"air, to light, to flowing water" at this day;
but here there was never a moment since co
lonial times when the rights of persons were j
not infinitely extended beyond those out of
the reach of legislation. Ob! but they say
that such laws are sanitary, not sumptuary.
And who made them Hospitalers of Hygeia,
health n urges for the people.* Health ia about
as piivate a possession, about as "intut et in
cute," personal as any man can be endowed
with. Who created a government to turn
quaok and prescribe physic? ''Physic to the
dogs There are other things which de
stroy health besides alcohol. Eating as well
as drinking, gluttony as well as drunkenness
hurts health. Will any one say that legislation
may take charge of my table, and my diet
a:d appetite, and say wha. I shall eat? If
they may prohibit a man from buying and
selling whiskey, may they not prohibit his
planting and sowing on his own fee-simple
soil, of his buying and selling the corn and
rye from which the whiskey is distilled ?
Again: French corsets have hurl more the
health of whole generations, have crippled
for their own lives and for their posterity,
too, more women and children than ever
John Barleycorn slew of men ! Shall a Hiss
committee be allowed by law to inspect Ma
daraes' and Misses' chambers, and see wheth
er whalebone and hard cord encompass la
dies' waists to tight? The idea would be ri
diculous it it was not so insufferable tyran
nous. You cannot legislate man to morality;
you must educate them to liberty and virtue.
Manners and morals must begin at the moth
er's knee ; must be trained in the schools;
and home and domestic teaching mnai give
to Ihe country pupils fit for the schools, and
the schools must give to the country a people
who wilt require no such despotic laws They
don't suit a people fit to be free: they corrupt
and demoralize a people already fit to be
slaves. The last source 1 would appeal to,
for temperance in eating and drinking, is a
legislature federal or Slate. O! ye Metropo
litan high livers! what tales Champagne and
London dock, aDd oanvass-backa, and terra
pine, and oysters could tell upon your exam
ples of abstemiousness and self denial! How
your temperance tells upon your lives! and
your legislature, too, at times! The truth is,
alt these "isms" come from the eame nidus
of the same cocatrix. They come from the
Scribes and Pharisees, who would lake care
of othera* consciences; they are inventions
of ambitious priestctaft, or man who have a
little religion to help Ibeir secular affair*, and
who ate a little worldly to help their religious
affairs—of "preachers of Christian politics,"
who are subtly aspiring to civil, secular, and
political power—of men who don't "render
unto Csesar the things which are Cmsar's,"
nor "unto God the things which are God's"—
of hypocrites who would superserviceably
cut off an ear tor their Master with the sword,
without his orders and against his law, and
who would deny Him thrice before the cock
crew once. And these are aided by coward
ly and knavish politicians, who either fear or
lawn upon their secret and sinister influen
ces. We have only to drive out all such from
the temple, as the dove-sellers were driven
out by the Mastor whose "pure and undefiled
religion before God and the father is, to visit
the widow and the fatherless, and to keep
one's self unspotted from the world !"
A Woman that wanted jnst a peep Into
that Private Closet.
A lodge of I. 0, O. F., at Woodstown, de
termined to have their lodge room.(lone up
cleun and nice, it was resolved unanimously
that Mrs. K. should be employed to do the
job.
After the meeting adjourned, the guardian,
who knew the inquisitive character of Mrs.
K., procured a billy goat, and placed him in
a closet that was kept as a reservoir for the
secret things. He then informed the lady of
the wishes ot the lodge, and requested her
to come enrljr next morning, as he would
then be at leisure to 6how her what was and {
what was not to be done.
Morning came, and with it came Madame j
K. with her broom, brushes, pails, tuba, &c.,
prepared and armed for the job, and found
(he guardian waiting for her.
"Now Madame," said he, "I tell you
what wo want done, and how we came to
employ you. The brothers said it was dif
ficult to get anybody to do the job, and not be
meddling with the sr.-rets in that little clos-
I ,s|; we have lost the key and cannot find it
to lock the door. I assured tbem that you
00l ;ld be depended on."
"Depended ° n '-" " a "l sh®, "I guess I can.
My poor dt>. a< ' an( l 6 one husband, who be
longed to the Frb'e Masons or anti-Masons,
I don't know which, H®ecl to tell me all the
secrets of the concern, and when .he showed
me all the marks the gridiron made vhen
he was initiated, and told me how they fixed
poor Morgan, I never told a living soul to
this day. If nobody '.roubles your closot to
find out your secrets, till I do, they 'II lay
there till they rot—they will."
"I thought so," said the guardian, "and
now I want yon to commence in that corner,
ai d give the whole room a decent cleaning,
and I have pledged my word an honor for
the fidelity to your promise : now don't go
into that closet," snd then left the lady to
herself.
No sooner had she heard the sound of his
feet on the last step of the stairs, than she
exclaimed, "don't go into that closet I" I'll
warrant there is a gridiron, or some nonsense,
just like the anti-Masons for all the world.—
I'll be bound, I will just take one peep, and
nobody will be any wiser, as I can keep it to
myself.
Suiting the action to the word, she stepped
lightly to the forbidden closet, turned the
button, which was no sooner done, than
bah I went the billy goat, with a spring to
regain his liberty, which came near upset
ting her ladyship. Both started for the door,
but it was filled with implements for house
cleaning, and all were swept from their po
sition down to the bottom of the stairs.
The noise and confusion occasioned by
such unceremonious coming down stairs,
drew half the town to witness Mrs. K'e ef
fort to get from under the pile of pails, tubs,
brooms, and brushes in the street.
Who should be first to the spot but the
rascally door keeper, who, after releasing
the goat, which was a cripple for life, and
uplifting the rubbish that bound the good wo
man to the earth, anxiously inquired if she
had been taking the degrees ?
''Taking the degrees !" exclaimed the la
dy, "if yon call tumbling from the top to
the bottom of the stairs with the devil after
ye, taking things by degrees, I have them,
and if ye frighten folks as you have me, and
hurt them to boot, I'll warrant they'll make
as much noise as I did."
" I hope you did not open the cloeet, mad
am," said the door keeper.
" Open the closet 1 Rve ate the apple she
was forbidden ! If you want a woman to do
anything, tell her not to do ii, and she'll do it
certain. 1 could not stand the temptation.—
The secret was there, 1 wanted to know it.
I opened the door, and out popped the tarnal
critter right into my face. 1 thought the dev
il had me, and I broke for the stairs with the
devil butting me at every jump—l fell over
the tub and got down the stairs as you found
us, all in a heap."
" But madam," said the doorkeeper, "yon
are in possession of the great secret of the
Order, and must go up and be initiated,
sworn, and then go in the regular way."
"Regular way !" exclaimed the lady, "and
do you suppose I am going near the tarnal
place again, and ride that ar critter without
bridle or lady's saddle 1 No, never! I don't
want nothing to do with the man that rides
it. I'd look nice perched on a billy goat—
wouldn't 11 No, never! I'll never nigh it
again, nor your hall nulher—if I can prevent
it no lady shall ever join the Odd Feliowa.—
Why I'd sooner be a Free Mason, and be
broiled on a gridiron as long as fire could be
kept under it, and garret to cel
lar, with a baiter, in a pair of old breeohes
and slippera, just as my poor, dear husband
was. And he lived over it, but I never oonld
lire over sueh another ride at I took to-day."
' A GIRL TO DO HOl/BEWORK.
Early one morntng Mr. Jones was seen in
i his bnggy, driving a spirited horse, in pnr9uit
of a girl to do housework. This was the
fourth day of the campaign, and proved as
unsuccessful as the former ones, yet he drove
on, hoping against all past experience, till
meeting a neighbor, he reined in his horse.
"Good morning, Mr. Mason ; can you tell
me where I can find a girl to do housework?
My wife is sick, and I wibh to get one for a
few weeks. lam wilting to pav any prico I"
"Indeed, Mr. Jones, that's a hard question;
there's girls enough to be sure, but they
won't do housework. Neighbor Hardpnn,
down in the hollow there, has a hall dozen,
but 1 don't suppose you could gel one for
love or money, I've tried them time and
again, but they won't go out."
"Thank yon," said Mr. Jones; "there's
nothing like trying." So saying, he stopped
at the door of Mr. Hardpan.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hardpan : I called to
see if I could get one of your daughters to
do housework for rr.e a few days?"
"0! dear man! why, massy on ns, oh Mr.
Jones, you've no idea how feeble my darters
are, they wouldn't be tough enough any way:
they couldn't stand it to do housework a
week. Anna Maria has got a desperate lame
side, and 1 don't purtend to put her to doing
anything, she's so leeble ; and Susan Sophia
has s dreadful weak stomach; she can't eat
anything unless it iacooked jitßtso—she don't
even make her own bed; and as lor Amelia
Angeline, she is troubled with a terrible pal
pitation of the heart; she can't lift a pale of
water. Why don't you get an Irish girl ?"
Here Mr 9. Hardpan paused for breath, and
Mr. Jones bade her good morning, and re
newed his journey; and just atuighl succeed
ed in getting a married woman who brought
her baby with her, to come and do a little
baking, and stay a day or IM-O, till he should
make a farther trial.
This, reader, is no fancy sketch. And now
let us for a moment look at the feebleness
of Mrs. Hardpan's daughters. Anna Maria
is tough enough to live in a dress which
compresses her ribs for six inches, atidlefives
for both lungs Abou: as muoh room as one
ought to occupy I Of course she could not
do housework. Susan Sophia can stand it to
dance till midnighl, then read novels nil day
light, sleep till eleven o'clock in tho morn
ing, eat hot cakes, and drink strong coffee
for breakfast; beef soup, butter gravies,
mince pies, and fruit puddings for dinner,
poundcake, lemon tarts, and a half dozen
cups of greeD tea for supper; with cloves,
chalk, charcoal, and slate pencils for a des
sert. Poor, weak stomach ! Amelia Ange
lina is a pale, slim, delicate creature, yet she
"can stand" it with her breast-bone pressed
upon her heart by a light dress, so that it can
scarcely beat! No wonder il is at times
obliged to make a "terrible" effort to free it
self of surplus blood. Amelia Angelina, too,
is strong enongh to carry six or eight pounds
of cotton batiing, and a smalt 'cut of cloth'
about her hips, wear thin shoes; and go
'bare-armed' tn winter. What a wonder that
she should have palpitation of the heart I
Now, is il any wonder that young ladies,
managed in this way, are not able and wil
ling to do housework ? Their dress, manner
of living, habits of thinking, all have a di
rect tendency to engender and confirm dis
ease. Hence, Bpinal complaint, dyspepsia,
heart-disease, consumption, &C-, are the la
gitimate results, If we would have our
daughters healthy let us see that these and
kindred evils are corrected. Let them lay
aside the straight-jacket and adopt a dress
which allows the tree motion ol every joint
and muscle, and the full expansion ol the
chest; exchange their novels for histories,
biography, poetry, etc.; take at least half an
hour's exercise in the open air daily during
pleasant weather; retire and rise early; ex
change tho hot cakes and coffee for cool
bread and water; eat no rich dinners or late
suppers, open the blinds, and let the light
shine in upon them, if you would nol have
them look like plants which grew in the cel
lar; take tbem into the kitchen, and instruct
them in the various branches of housewifery;
do not be afraid of soiling their hands—they
are much more easily cleansed than their
hearts. And knowing how to perform the
duliee of the household only helps to make
a lady, nor will it lower them in the estima
tion of any man, whose respect is worth se
curing. Washing, baking and sweeping need
not prevent your daughters f:om becoming
smart musicians, finished painters, profound
mathematicians, or good wives.
FAULT FINDING.
There is a disposition observable in some,
to view unfavorably everything that falls un
der their notice. They seek to gain eonfi
deuce by always differing from others in
judgment, and to deprecate what they allow
to be worthy in itself, by hinting at some mis
take or imperfection in the performance.—
You are 100 lofty, or too low in your
manners; you are too frugal or too profuse
in your expenditure; you are too taciturn, or
too free in your speech; and so of the rest.
Now, guard against this tendency. Nothing
will more conduce to your uncomfortable
ness than living in the neighborhood of ill
nature, and being familiar with discontent.
The disposition grows with indulgence, and
is low and base within itsell; and if any
should be ready to pride themselves on skill
and facility in the scene, let them remember
that the acquisition is cheap and easy; a child
can deface and destroy; dullness ami stupidi
ty, wbich seldom lack Inclination or meaus,
can cavil and find fault; and everything can
furnish ignorance, prejudice and envy, with
1 a handle of reproach.— Rev. ffm Jay.
[Two Dollars per Anita.
NUMBER 47.
From the Central lUinoian.
THE AGE OF FACT.
j Two more asteroids hare been added <•
i the thirty-three already discovered between
1 Mars and Jupiter. Bilk, of Pruaaia, and Gold,
schmidt,of France,firat caught a sight of tbeae
i little globes.
Oura is a fast-collecting age. Soieno# nod
art have a settled place ia the world. Afr"
our philosophies and systems recognize their
agency and usefulness, and cheerfully accord
to them
"A local habitation and a name."
vaiicn. *?he numbers thus at isolated work
are daily increasing, and vast is the aggrah
gate of facts which have been brought to
gather. Steam ploughs the universal sea and
land. The "lightnings of heaven,, are
" Cabined, cribbed, confined,"
to a number Eight wire, and travel in alralgh t
linen; obsorvatories are erected in every part
of the civilized world ; the winds are watch
ed on the land and on the seas ; the temper
ature of the earth is recorded from the equa
tor to the farthest attainable position toward
the poles; the wateis that wash the poles
are themselves ready to be laid dOwi> in
charts ; the barometer and needle are trans
ported over the whole surface of the globe,
and their fluctuations noted in its deepest
caves and mines, and on the summits of its
highest mountains, f.et any one turn over
the reports of our permanent scientific asso
ciations, and he will appreciate the skill, (ha
minute and exact knowledge, displayed in
every department.
Great are the advantages of this minute
division of fact-manufacture ! valuable in
deed, is the accuracy of detail which baa
been the result! And this advantage, tbia
value, will become every succeeding year
more fully developed by the increasing use
of the collected materials. \ fact-collecting
age has always been as a co-laborator, a (act
using age. We may look, therefore, that
the noble struciute will gradually raise itself
from the elements now preparing, so high
towards the heavens, that there will be
spread before the eye a wider sweep of the
horizon than ever before was seen by man..
No one, now-a-days, can be otherwise than
sanguine and hopeful for science. If the
philosophers of other times had had cogni
zance of the facts now embodied in our ic<
nual reports, if the improvements ol philo
sophical apparatus and the almost perfected
! instruments of observation had been in their
hands, they would not have rested in their
theories as the ultimate reach oT the mind.
There certainly is as much zeal and genius
in the world now at ever; and there is the
vantage-ground of accumulated stores of
knowledge and the perfeotion of the arts,
that will insure a rapid advance so soon ae
there is altogether, what there is now in part,
a right direction and distribution of effort.
We shall then have a real properly in the
world. It will be wholly ours. It will be a
connecting link between the Dei'y and mart
—common ground, if we may be allowed
the expression—something which has flow
ed out of the heavens, lying between (be
Creator and the created.
A Child Angel-
Death has closed those little eyes and for
ever shrouded their bright glances. How
sweetly she sleeps, that little covered angel!
Haw lightly curl the glossy ringlets on bar
forehead. You could weep your very soul
away to think those cherub lips will
never unclose. Vainly you clasp and un
clasp that passive, darling hand that wander
ed so very often over your cheeks. Vainly
your nnguished glances strive to read the
dim story of love in those faded orbs. That
voice, sweet as winds blowing through
wreath and garlands, slumbers forever. And
still the busy world knocks at your door and
will let you have no peace, ft ohouti in
your ear, it smiles in your face, it meeta yon
at the coffin, at the grave, and its heavy foot
steps tramp up and down in the empty room
from whence yon have borne your dead.—'
But it comes never in the hush of night to>
wipe away your tears! In tht solran silence
of the grave we feel the force of the sicken
ing sorrow which hangs heavily upon the
heart as though it would pass it down into
that narrow space over which the Spirit
dwells in mournful snspence. Bui a bright
er vision meets the eye. Can you lookup*
Can you bear the splendor of thai sight*—
The thousand celestial beings, and your ra<
diant child angel in the midst—
In her eyes a glory bright,
On her brow a glory crown.'*
Faithful Forever,
It is a dear delight for the sou! to havtf
trust in the laithof another.
It makes a pillow of softness for the cheek
which is burning with tears and touch of
pain. It it an undeferred seclusion into
which the mind, when weary oi sadness,
may retreat for the caress of constant love
—a warmth in tha clasp of friendship for
ever lingering on the hand; a consoling voice
that dwells with an eternal echo on the car
—a dew of mercy falling on the troubled
hearts of this world. Bereavements and
wishes, long withheld, sometimes descend
as chastening grief upon our nature , hot
there is no solace to the bitterness of (goksn
faith.
W Franklin says "a poor man must work
to find meat for his stomach ; a rich one to
find a stomach for his meat."