THE STAR OF THE NORTH. tt, IT. Weaver, Proprietor.] VOLUME 9. THE STAR OF THE NORTH IS PUBLISHED EVERT WEDNESDAY MORNINU BY It. W. WEAVER, OFFICII-—Upstairs, in the new brick build ing, on the south side oj Main Street, third I quart be .'our Market. : —Two Dollars per annum, if •pant within six months from the lime of sub scribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within tho year. No subscription re ceived for a less period than six months; no discontinuance permitted until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the editor. ADV XRTISEJIKNTS not exceeding one square will be inserted three times 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. I'ULIHBUS ON Flits r ULIIOLUINU A M Fit It'A . 'God of my sires! o'er ocean's brim Von bounteous land appears at last; Raise, comrades! raise your holiest hymn For now onr toils are past. See o'er the bosom of the deep She gaily lilts her summer charms, As if at last she longed to leap From dark oblivion's arms. What forms, what lordly scenes may bo Secluded in thy flow'ry breast; Pure is thy sea and calm thy sky, Thou garden of the West; Around each solitary hill A rich magnificence is hurl'd, Thy youthful face seems wearing still The first Iresh fragrance of the world. eome wish hope, our bosom bright, Like Noah drifting o'er the wave, To claim a world—'he ocean's might Has shrouded like the grave; And, Oh! the dwellers of the Ark _ Ne'er pined with fonder hearts to see The bird of hope regain their bark Thau I have longod lor thee. Around ma was the boundless flood, O'er which no mortal ever pass'd ; Above me was a solitude j Aa measureless as vast; Yet in the air and on (he sea The voice of the eternal one Breathed forth the song of of hope to mo, And hade me journey on. Hud 'em nl Lust, A young man from the "rural districts" went to the Post Office, t he other day, with a bank note, for a dollar's worth oi postage stamps. He was told that paper money was not received. He went away, and shortly returned with four Spanish quartets. "We don't receive llum now," said the attendant, "for more than twenty cents apiece." The countryman thought Uncle Sam mighty par ticular, so he went away agnin, and obtained a dollar in coppers. "Now," said lie, on re turning to the office and laying down bis "pile" at the window of the delivery, "I guess I can suit ye." The man inside looked at the display of "specie currency," and coolly said, "we never take more than three cents in copper at any one time; it is not a legal tender above that sum." The countryman looked at the composed official for the space of a minute at.d a hall without stirring; and then he belched out: "Look here, you ; ain't you almighty kind of particular, for fellers locked up in such a jail as this 'ere? You don't take only three cents in coppers at a time, hey? Well, then, s'pose you give mo three cents' worth of stamps, anyhow." The official very politely 0 *cut htm of! a single stamp, and passed it out, for which the countryman laid ftnvn three cents. He was about to pass away, when the latter crieu out: "Look here, you ! Hold on ! That ere's one time. Now, s'pose you gin me three cents' worth more on 'em." Uncle Sam's clerk was not slow in discov ering that he had "caught a Tartar." He turaed back to the window. "How many coppers have you got?" he asked. "Wall, only about ninety-seven on 'em : I had a hundred on 'em when I began." "Pass 'em in !" was the gruff reply. "Pass out your •tamps fust, and then 1 will," said Jonathan; "but I reckon yon don't ketch me agin."— The stamps were passed out, the coppers were handed over, when the countryman went off, saying, "I s'pose because a feller holds office under Uncle Sam he thinks he's stttyletVill creation; but 1 guess they larnt somethin' that time." English Governesses. "A poor governess" writes to the Times: , 1 was one of about fifty ladies (most of whom were accomplished gentlewomen) j who applied last week in reply to an adver- • tisement in the Times, for a situation as gov- 1 erness in a family in the neighborhood of I Kir.gsland. The applicants went from all parte of London and its environs; many \ Were in consequence quite overcome with fatigue, having walked long distances to ■ave expense. After having bean kept | standing in a cold draughty hall more than an hour, I at last obtained an interview with the lady, and learned that the duties of the governess would consist in educating and (a- \ king the entire charge of the children, seven . In number, two being quite babies; to per- ■ form for them all ihe menial offices of a 1 nurse; make and mend their clolhea; lo Teach at least three accomplishments, and ! "fill up the leisure hours of an ' playing to company." For these combined j duties the munificent sum of .£lO per an-, hum was offered. I ascertained lor a fact I that the two domestic servants in the same 1 family were paid respectively £l2 and £lO. INSECT OOI.OGT A single female house fly produces in one season 20,080,320 eggs. Some female spiders produce nearly 2,000 eggs. Dr, Bright publishes a case of an egg producing an insect eighty years after it must have been laid. BP" The manners which are neglected as email things, are often those which decide tnen for or against you. BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 25, 1857, From "Major /ones' Courtship." MA J. JOSEPH JON Kb' WPUDINU. To MR.THOMPSON DEAR Slß:—Ever sense I writ my last letter to yon things is gone on just as straight as a shingle, and the only thing that troubles me is, I'm afraid it's all to good to last. It's always been the way with me ever sense I can remember, when ever I'm tho happyeet sumthing seems to turn up jest to upset all my calculatTbns, and now, though the day is set for the weddin' and the Slallionscs is getting everything reddy as fast as they can, I wouldn't be epiised much if some bominable thing was to happen, somo /earthquake or something jest bust it all up agaiu, though I should bale it monstrous. Old Miss Stallions red that piece in the | Miscellany bout the mistake in parson Mil ler's figers, and I do believe she's as glad about it as if she was sure she would live a whole thousand years more herself She ses she liainl got no objections to the weddin now, for ma and Mary will have plenty o( time to make a fortin for our children and raise 'em up as they ought to be. She says she always wondered how Mr. Miller could cifer the thing out so straight to the very day, without a single mistake, but now he's made sich a terrible blunder of a whole thousand years, she sajs she knows he aint no smarter nor other people, if ho was raised at tho north. It's really surprisin how mazin popular it does make a body to be engaged to bo mar ried lo a beautiful young lady. Senso the thing's leaked out, every body's my tickler friend, and 1 can't meet nobody wherever I go, but what wants to gratulale mo on my good fortin, cept cousin Pete and two or three other fellers, who look sort o' like they wanted to laugh and couldn't. Almost every night Mary and me is invited to a parly.— Tother night wo went to one to old Squito Rogerses, where I got my dander up a little the worst I've had it for some time. I don't believe you've ever heard of jest such a fool trick as they played,' on me. Ther was a good many thor, and as the Squire don't al low dancin, they all played games and tricks, and such foolishness, to pass away the lime, which to my notion's bominable site worse than dancin. Cousin Pete was there splurging about in his biggest, and with his dandy cut Irowsers and big whiskers, and tried to take the shine off of everybody else, jest as he always dose. Well, bimeby he sea: "Spose we play brother Bob—let's play brother Bob." "Yes, let's play that," says all of 'em, "wont you be brother Bob, Major?" "Who's brother Bob?" ses I, for I didn't know nothing bout it, and that's the way I cum to be so bominably tuck in. "1 tell you," ses be, "you and somebody else must set down in the chairs and be blindfolded, and the rest must all walk round and round you, ar.d keep tapping you on the head with somethin, till you guess who bobbed you." "But how bob me?" ses I. "Why," ses lie, "when any one laps you, you must say, brother I'm bobbed ! and then they'll ax who bobbed you ? and if you guess the rile one, then thoy must take your place and be bobbed till they guess who bobbed 'em. If you'll be blindfolded, I will," ses be, "jest for fun." "Well," says I, "anything for fun ; " and Cousin Pete sot out two chairs into the mid dle of the room, and we sot down, and they lied a handkorclicr round my eyes as tight as the mischief, so I couldn't see to guess no mor'n if I had no eye at all. 1 hadn't set so no time for cawhalux some one tuk me rite side o' the head with o drated big book. The fire flew out o' my eyes in big live coals, and I like lo keeled over out o' the chair. I felt my blood risin' like a mill-tail, but they all laughed mightily at the fun, anJ after a while ses I, "Brother; I'm bobbed!" "Who bobbed youV ses tliev. I guessed the biggest-fisted feller iu the room, but it wasn't him. The next miunit spang went the book agin Cousin Pete's bead. "Whew !" ses he, "Brother I'm bobbed!" But Cousin Pete didn't guess rile, nuther, and the fust thing I know'd whang they tuk me agin. I was dredful anxious to guess rite, but it was no use; I missed it every time, and so did Cousin Pete; and the harder they bit the harder they laughed. One timß they hit me a great deal easier than the rest. "Brother, I'm bobbed!" ses I. "Who bobbed you !" 6es they. "Miss Mary Sheldon," ses I. "No, I never," ses 6he, and they all roared out worse than ever. I begun lo gel monstrous tired of sich fun, which seemed so much like the frogs in the spellin' boots—for it was deth to me—and 1 don't know what I would have done if Mary hadn't come up and ontied the handkercher. "Let's play something else," ses she ; and her lace was red as fire, and she looked sort o' mad out of her eyes. I seed ther was something wrong in a minnit. Well, they all went on play in' "pawns," and "pon honor," and "here we go round the goosebury bush," and "O, sister Feby, how merry we be," and sirh nonsense, till they knowed ; and when they was playiu' Mary told nie how Cousin Pete bobbed me himself. It was the most audacious takein I ever heard of. Do you think he didn't sot rite down beside me and never blitldlold himself, and bit me every lick himself, now and then bitliu' bis knee with the book to make me j b'lieve he was bob'd 100 I My head was i singin' with the licks when aha '.old me how I lie done me, and I do beliove if it hadnt betl I for her I'd gin cousin Pete stch a licki n rite tliar in that room as lie never had afore in his born days. Blazes! but I was mad at fust. But Mary begged me not to raise no fuss about it, now it was all over, and she would fix him tor his smartness. I hadn't no sort of a ide how she was gwine to do it, but I knowed she was enough for Cousin Pete any time, so I jest let her go ahead.— Well, she took the bominable fool oil'to one side and whispered to him like she was gwine to let him into the secret. She told him bout a new play what she learned down to Macon when she was at the College, call ed''lntroduction to the King and Queen," what she said was a grate deal funny er than ''Brother Bob," and swaded him to help to git 'em all to play. After she and him made it all up, Cousin Pete put out three chairs close together in a roe for a throne, and Mary she put a sheet over 'em to make 'em look a little grand. Bdl Byers was to be King and Mary was to be Queen. "Now you must all come into tother room," sea Cousin Pete, "only them what belongs to the court, and then you must be introduced, one at a lime." "I aint gwine," ses Tom Stallions, for there's some trick in it." "No there aint," ses Cousin Pete, "I'll give you my word there aint no trick, only a little fun." "Well," ses I, "I'a had fun enough for one t:ite." Mary looked at me and kind o' winked, and ses she, "you're one of the court you ! know, Major, but jest go out till the court is i •ornoiianJ luifnra Itui lluiuitf Well we all went out, and bimeby Bill Bj era called out lords and ladys what bo longed to the court, and we all went in and tuck chairs on both sides of the throne. Cousin Pete was to be the first one intro duced, and Samuewel Rogers was to be the feller who introduced the company. Well, himeby the door opened, in come Cousin Pete, bowin and scrapin, and twistin and rigglein and putlin on mora ares nor a French dancin master—be beat Croehett all to smash. The King sot one side of the throne and the Queen on tother, leaving room in the middle for some one else. Sam was so full of laugh at Cousin Pete's umicks that he couldn't hardly speak. "Doctor Peter Jones," sea he, I inlerduce yon to their Majesty's the King and Queen." Cousin Pete sctaped about a while and then dropt on one knee, the afore 'em. "Rise gallant knight," ses Billl l!yers; •'rise we dub you ktnglit of the royal bath." Cousin Pete got up und bowed and scraped a few more limes, and went to sit down be tween 'em, but they ris up jest as lie went lo set down ; and the first thing ho ktiowed, kersiosh he went, rite into a big tub of cold water, with nothing but his bead and heels stickin out. He tried to kiss Mary as he was (akin his seat, and if you could jsst seed htm as he went into that tub of water with his arms reached out to hsr, and his month sot for a kiss, I do believe you'd laughed mor'n you ever did afore in your life. The fellers was all so spicinus that some trick was gwtne to be played they all left the door open, and when the the thing tuck place they all run in ahoulin and laughin like they would bust their sides. Pele got out as quick as he coulJ, and I never seed a feller so willed down in all my life. He got as mad as a hornit, and said it was a mean trick to serve enny body so, es pecially in cold weather. And he went rite off home by himself to dress. Mary made the niggers take out the mid dle chair and put the tub of water lhar when we was in (other room. Pete didn't spicion the trick was gwine to turn out that way, he thought the Queen was gwine to sentence every feller what didn't kiss her, as he sot down to do something that would make fun for the rest, and he was jest gwine to open the game. 1 felt perfectly satisfied after that and I don't think Cousin Pele will be quite so foud of funny tricks the next time. But I like to forgot to tell you, my wedditi is to take place—providtn ther ain't no more yearlhquakes nor unaccountable things to prevent —on the 22d of this month, which you know is a famous day what ought to be celebrated by every gene wine patriot in the world. 1 shall look for you to come, and 1 hope you will be sure to be (bar, for 1 know you couldn't grudge the ride jest to see Miss Mary Jones what is to be. We'a gwine to have a considerable getherin, jest to please the old folks, and old Mirs Stallions ses sho's gwine to give us a real Georgia weddin of ihe old time fashion. No more from Your friend till detb, JOS. JONES. P. S.—l went 'over tother nite to see 'em all, and they was as bissy as bees in a tar barrel [sowin and makiu up finery. Mary was sowin somelhin mighty fine and while with ruffles and jigamarees all round it.— "What kind of a thing is that V ses I. The gals looked at one another and laughed like they would die, and my poor little Mary (bless her soul) kept gatherin it up in a heap and blushin dredful. "Tell him, Sis," ses Miss Caroline, but Mary looked rite down and didn't say nothin. "I'll tell him," ses Kesiah, "it's a "No you shan't now —stop, stop," ses Mary, and she put her pretty little hand on Miss Kesiah's Inouth, and looked like she'd ory for a little. I felt so sorry for her I told 'em I didn't want to know, aud they put the things away, and bimeby I went home, but I kept a lliinkin all the way what upon yearth it could be. I spose I'll find out some day. Tram and Right—-Cod aid onr Country. UK. KANE, The ROY. Charles Wadsworth, in a beauti ful and touching discourse preached on Sun day evening, to his congregation, from the text " Jesus wept," John xi. 35, paid (ho fol lowing just tribute to the memory of him over whose early grave a nation is now called to mourn : " Yes, Death is an evil and s bitter thing ! Who does not know it? who has not fell it? and to-night, perhaps, more keenly than is our wont, we know it and leel it. We are, this holy hour, a city of mourners. Before another Sabbath comes with its blessed light, we shall have gone forth to pay funeral hon ors to one, whom we all loved as a man, and honored as a citizen—in whoso living deeds we are alt glorified, and whose early death we deplore with lamentations and with tears. I am not thinking here to u.ter his eulogy ; the occasion does uol permit it; the mail does not require it; but it was a forgelfulness of God's grew. voice in his providence not to render here and now a brief and humble trib. ule to the honored dead. Dr. Kane's career was a matter of national pride, and his death is a matter of national lamentation. His was achatacler singularly grand in its separate elements, and match lessly beautiful in the harmony of their com binations. The power of u naturally keen and comprehensive mind had been strength ened by earnest culture, and developed in the wildest range of practicable and scientific at tainments—and these in all their fullness consecrated to the loftiest aims of beneficent usefulness. philosophy—and exquisitely imaginative with itie loftiest poetry. Tho combination of his moral character were still more remarkable and wonderful. To the truest and teuderest sensibility were added the iron will and the most indomitable decision ; and with a dauntless bravery that equalled the golonous chivalry of the old ideal and fabulous hero ism, was blended a calm, practical judgment —a marvellous and majestic patience—a beau tiful simplicity and modesty; all rarely equal led in human biography. Meanwhile suf fusing all that character us with a heavenly light, and blending all its rare qualities as with a Divine solvent into one exquisite amalgam—there was a living and controll ing purity which made tho whole man a liv iog sacrifice to his fellows, and laid down all the spoils and trophies of his triumphs at his Master's feet. Qualities seldom oomblp.ed, and Thdeed seumingty nn'agonistical, were | found in his heart and life, each in fullest j power, and all in loveliest harmony, lie | thought like a philosopher—he wrote like a | poet—he acted like a'hero—he felt liko a ! child—ho lived like a/man—he prayed like a Christian. "Ha was al once (he giant oak that bat tles with the storm, and the beautiful vine that beautifies its gnarled trunk with itsgreeu leaves and purple clusters, and makes sweet alike zephyr and storm will, its exquisite aroma. "And as such he has died in the early prime and promise of his manhood—in the morning twilight of his brightening fame— jiist as his powers were reposing for loftier toils, and his benevolence kindling for broader enlerpiiee—.just as we wero beginning fondly to appreciate the wonders of his past, and exultingly to prophecy the splendors of his future—just then he died; and we mourn for him—we weep for him—and why should we not weep ? Science weeps! Humanity weeps! The Htorld weeps! And it were unnatural—it were ungrateful—it were to prove ourselves cold, stolid, unsentienl, dead to all generous impulses, lalse to our loftier and holier instincts, if we went not forth to his burial in tearful sorrow. For the Divine man of Nazareth was a pattern in all that is alike lofty and lovely in magnificent man hood, and over a tomb no gentler in its beau ty—no loftier in its gIory—JESUS WEPT, J uses WEPT." "Fifty Yeurs Hence." Right Rev. Bishop Clarke, (Says the Balti more American) is staled to have delivered, recently, a lecture on the above subject, in which occurs the following passage; wkeiher intended for prophecy or satire, we are not exactly able to determine; "Fifty years hence, the newly married pair will step into an emporium for the sake of houses, look over the book of patterns, se. leet one to suit their taste and means, order it, and it will be sent home in the morning, put together and occupied at night. In traveling, as great changes will take place, instead of the dusty roa-l and crowded car, there will be a splendid locomotive ho tel, flying over a road carpe'e.l with turf and hordered with shade trees, and heralding its approach with sweet music, instoad of the demoniac shriek of the steam whistle, aad labelled through from Boston to San Fran cisco iu four day*. Instead ot the unsightly telegraph poles, there will be, fifty years hence, a net work underground, and under toe bosoms of the deep, and it will click ofl" thougats instead of words. Then the electric battery will light all the street lamps at onoe, enable all the clocks in the city to keep exact time, and kindle the beacons on die dangerous rocks, where, now, men hazard their lives, and wiar out their lonely days. ♦Then, the author will not write by our alow process losing his rarest fancies, but he will sit down to the newest invented chiro graphics! instruments, and putting his fin gers on the keys, write at feet as be can 1 think." it DILEMMA AiUONU IHE DESPOTS. TUB SECBET THEATV BETWEEN TRANCE AND AUSTRIA. Mr. D'lsraeli, a member of the British Home of Commons, has more than once alliuleti to a Secret Treaty between Franco and Austria. On a recent occasion he pressed Lord Palm erston so closely, that the Premier was in duced to make some admissions. The charge made by D'lsraeli was, that a Convention had been agreed upon, by which Louis Napoleon pledged himself, that if, in consequence o( any assistance which Austria should render to the Allies in the Eastern War, the Italian Provinces should revolt, Franco would im mediately furnish troops to put down the in surrection. He (D'lsraeli) further affirmed that this understanding was made with the knowledge, if not at the instigation, of Lord Palmerston himself. The latter denied the whole story at first, but Air. D'lsraeli persist ed, repeated his asscttion, and raised a direct question of veracity between himself and the Premier in the House of Commons. Lord Palmerston, finding it necessary to vindicate his first position, or to mako some explana tion, made the proper inquiries, and ascer tained that some such agreement had been entered into by the two Emperors. But he denied that it was instigated by the British Government, or that England had any knowl edge of it, until after the terms had been agreed upon. It appeared in the course of the debate, that Austria was urged by the two great \Ve6tern Powers, to lake the fie'd boldly and actively against Russia. But this declined to do, for the reason above re-1 referred to, namely, that she was not strong n. , ..w . j .- — -.j y troops tor sttcti an undertaking, unless at m i imminent risk of revolt in her Italian Provin- j ces. The admission was not made openly and in an official form, but it was intimated in distinct and confidential terms, to the Em peror of France, and thus the treaty between the two Powers was agreed upon. Despite i this arrangement, however, Austria still lies- j ilaled. She was, in all probability,unwilling ! to encounter risks. The stake involved was j two-fold. In the first place, apprehension for her own safety, or at least for that of the Ital-' ian Provinces, and fear for the deadly enmity of Russia. The position of this Power through out the Eastern war, was indeed most unen- j viable ; and her authorities must have re- j joiced with the liveliest satisfaction, at the declaration of peace. She was, in fact, men-! aced from throo quarters. England and ■ France coaxed and threatened her h i— 1 , Russia constantly reminded her of the deep i obligation she was under lo the Czar, while I the dissatisfied among her own people, only I waited an opportunity lo break out in open I rebellion. The reader will redily perceive that even a leading despotism of the Old j World may bo in a sad dilemma. Only a few years have gone by, since Austria was ! at the mercy of the Hungarians, and would have been dismembered as an Empire, but for the assistance of Russia. And r.ow we find this same Austria entering into a delib erate arrangement with France, to render material assistance against the Czar, under certain circumstances and condilions I No wonder that Alexander II speaks of his Royal brother, Ftancis Joseph, not only in terms of contempt, but indignation. The treachery of Austria againsr Russia was not carried into full effect; but the blackness of the turpitude and ingratitude is not theoless palpable.— Many years will elapse, before Russia will forget or overlook conduct so vascillating and 1 apparently perfidious. IV" Occupation! what a glorious thing it is (or the human heart. Those who work hard seldom yield themselves entirely up to fancied or real sorrow. When grief sits down, folds its hands, and mournfully feeds upon its own tears, weaving the dim shadows that little exertion might sweep away, into a fu neral pall, the strong spirit is shorn of its might, and sorrow becomes our master.— When troubles flow upon you dark and heavy, toil not with the waves—wrestle not with the torrent—rather seek, by occupation, to divert the dark waters that threaten to overwhelm you, into a thousand channels which iha du ties of life always present. Before you dream of it, those waters will fertilize the present, and give birth to fresh flowers that may brighten the future—flowers that will become pure and holy, in the sunshine which pene trates to the path ol duty, in spite of every obstacle. G'ief, after all is but a selfish feel ing ; and most selfish is the man who yields himself to the indulgence of any passion which brings no joy to bis lellow man. nr Some one has beautifully said that in the life of the good men there is an Indian summer more beautiful than that of the sea sons ; richer, sunnier and more sublime than the most glorious Indian summer which the world knew—it is the Indian summer of the soul. When the glow of youth has depart ed, when the warmth of middle age i gone, and the buds and blossoms of spring are changing to the sero and yellow leaf, then the mind of the good man, still ripe and vig orous, relaxes its labors, and the memories of a well spent life gush forth from their se cret fountains, enriching, rejoicing, and fer tilizing ; then the trustful resignation of the Christian sheds around a sweet aud holy warmth, and the soul, assuming a heavenly lustre, is no longer restricted to the narrow confines of business, but soars far beyond tbewiuterof hoary age, and dwells peace fully and happily upon that bright spring anJ summer which awaits hint within the Para dise, ever more. Let us strive for aud look trustfully forward to an ludian summet like ibis. ! A SHOUT SIUK Y Willi A MOHAL.. " Honor thy father and thy mother," i* the first commandment with promise—promise as beautiful in ita exemplifications, as glori in its conception. A mother's lips first broaih ed into our ears these words of Holy writ, and explained their general import; and from the lime when the story of gray haired Elijah and his youthful mockers first excited my young imagination, the respect then inspired for white hairs of age, has grown with my growth and strengthened with ir.y strength. Wo sigh whan we think of the days when the young were wont to bow before the hoary head, and by gentle uncalled-for assiduities strew roses in the old man's tottering path. But those kindly customa have passed away. The world grows selfish as it grows old ; and age-dimmed eyes mutt turn home ward lor stays to their trembling hands and tottering limbs. Here they shall find fulfil ment of their first commandment with prom ise. No truo womanly soul ever withdrew her gentle hand from her poor oIJ father and mother; no mar.Jy heart ever forgot the home loves of bis wayward childhood, or ceased to hear Hie echoes of u fond mother's prayer. Often the cares of this wurld and the decetifuluess of riches may choke up the in born alfectiou of narrow souls ; but lew and far between is lite fondly loved child, who can bo so untrue to himself or to bis Maker as wholly to forget the mother who bore him. Yel even with the holiest dictates of our reasons and au>u, j n( j with the wide - appli cation of this commanuraent, has Fashion in- son, perchance, who lefi hi* fo.nl parent * j home reluctantly and tearfully, lo wake hi* ' way m the worlJ, forget*, when fortune fa vor*, lo welcome his rustic tnulher to h * own luxury with the same co/dial embrace wiih which he has left her in his childhood home. Her dim old eye*, perhapa,do not catch read- | ily tha meaningless courtesies of lile, but they look none the leas lovingly upon her child, than when they watched over hi* help less infancy. Her withers 1 hand may be large and bony, and never had known a jew el, but none the less gently did jliey smooth the weary pillow, or bathed (he heated brow, in the dependent days of boyhood. Ah ! she'* the same fond mother still—her aged and work-bent form, clad in rujttc garb,con ceal* a heart full of never dying love, and ready (or a new sacrifice. „ . I And, thanks to iheTtreal being who gave | us the commandment with promise, and now | and then there stands up a noble man, true ! to his inborn nature, who throws of! the tram mels of Fashion, however wide the gulf that ' separates, in the world'* eye, from the hum j blest poverty of his boyhood—who is uol ashamed to love, before Ins fellows,the hum ble mother who gave him birth, j "Mr MOTHER, permit me lo present her | to you." said an elegantly dressed, noble \ looking young man to a friend, for whom he i had crossed a crowded drawing room, with j the aged parent leaning on his arm. There was a dead silence for full five minutes. The moral beauty of the piuture pervaded every soul, and melted away the r roM work of world-wide hearts. 'Twas the old fore ground of a fashionable summer resort, whith er host— had come, with all their saltish pae eions to seek in vain for health and pleasure. But here was variation—a bit of truth to na ture—in the molly mingling of colors- From a little brown farm house, pent in the forest, ewsy up in the Granite State, (hat young man had gone forth with brave heart and stalwart arm—strong, like his native hills he had already made a name for himself.— Polished circles opened for him, and gentle lips bade him welcome. Yet none the less carefully did his mauty arm support his home ly, tottering old mother; none the less softly and tendetly did he call her, queer though she looked, "my mother," amongst the proud beauties who had striven for his favor. Her dress was antiquated, for trie gifl6 of her son had been mutilated by rustic hands; yet only one heartless girl tittered, despite the broad filled cap and well kept shawl. Her voice was rough and often her expressions coarse and inelegant. Used to the social mug at home, she asked for her neighbor's goblet at the table, and was guilty of many vulgarities. She was an ucimeresting woman, save in her vigorous age, and her beautiful love for her sou. Yet for a week, the son watched over that mother, and gained for het kindness tnd def erence, in the very (ace ol fashion; walked with her, drove with her, helped her, like an infant, up a difficult mountain side of twenty miles, humored her every caprice, and each day found some new friend, whose heart he might thrill by those gentle words ''my moth er." To him she was the gentle mother who rocked him to sleep tu childhood; and, true to the commandments he had taught him, he was making the path smooth to her de dependent years. One there was in the gay throng whose eye flashed haughtily, as they rested on the toil worn, homely woman, but she was a noble soul, aud truth and right gaiued an instant victory over life-long prejudices. Ouiekly and elegantly she crossed the room and laid her hand with a gentle,thrilling touch on the arm of her, and whispered a word iu his ear. Will she ever forget the look of love tri umph in his eyes, or the smiling gentleness of his tones, as he presented the beautiful, high-bred betrothed to his gray-haired doung mother. Or No man can leave a better legacy w the world than a well educated family [Two Dollars per Annoa* NUMBER 10, Fiom the Child's Paper. Tbe Boy who Broke bin Mother'* lleail. I went Into the "Toombs" or the New Yotk City prison yesterday, and saw a great many things to matte me very sad, but none that excited my rympaties more then a poor weeping woman, who stood looking into one of the cells containing three or four boys Irom nine to twelve years old. One of those boys was her own and her eldest son ; she was a widow, and her husband who was u sailor, had been dead several year*. I spoke to this heart-stricken mother, end inquired into the cause of her sorrows. "Oh, sir," said she, "my boy is here in prison lor stealing. Oh, if he were dead anil in hts coffin, I could bear that; but to have hitn here tit a felon's cell, this breaks ray heart. I triad to keep him in, but he would go out into the streets, end thorn be got into bad company; I warned and entreated him, but ho would not do as I wanted bint to-, and now he is here -'o this dteadful placet" No wonder thai this mother wept; no won* der that she could not be conducted. Here in a horrid prison, in which were ehut un scores of thieves and other bad men ati.t boys, was Iter own child, the bsbe that she had nursed and kissed with the lovo that ■ mother only knows; the babe that she hid a thousand limes rocked to sleep singing a lul laby ; for whom ahe had in sickness watched and wept and slept not, aud to clothe and feed him had sewed till midnight hours had come. That babe, in rags ar.d disgrace, | could now be spoken to only through the t iron urating, even by his mother. Poor wo- I man, I did pity her. I wept with her and ! tried to soothe her aucutsu. r.et me ask those who reaa tow story, how it in with you. Are you kind and obedient to your mother 1 Do you mind her quickly and pleasantly when she speaks to you!— Did you ever disobey her! Or are you like the boy who broke ins mother's heart I No matter how old you are: be cartful, 0, very cartful you don't break your mother's heart. You will never know in this world how much you owe your mother, how much site has endured and suffered for you. But if you are spared to live until you are grown up, and that dear mother shsll live for you to bury her, if you are unkind end disobedient to her now, how will you (eel wbsn you come to kiss Iter cold face for the last time before you cover her from your eight! When 1 see boy or girl disobedient and unkind to a mother, I greatly lear they will come to CUItIOUS. On Monday, the lUth of January, a young gentleman, in company with a friend, enter ed the church of Dr. Cleveland, near the Tontine building, New. Haver., Conn. Tho atmosphere in the church was very told, but a stream of warm air rose from the furnaces, the evaporators of which were partly filled with water. Around one of the furnaces snow was gathered to the depth of Ihiti or four inchss, formed by the crysta fixation of the moisture in the ascending stream of air forming into bright crystals of beautifal forms, which fell in showers to the floor.— There was nearly a bushel of snow sronnd one of the furnaces, and even on the iron work of the register was piled up,—the air rising from the furnace through a grating of snow. Tits WORD "CREOLE."—Some suppose thi Creole lo be nearly black, imagining the word to be used a a a term of disgrace and reproach. The Spanish word Crillo (Creole) was origi nally applied to the descendants of whites in Mexico, South America and the West Indies, in whom white blood, unmixed with that of every other tace existed. This is still the only scception of the term in the West Indies. A Mulatto is the offspring of a white and a ne gro, a Quadroon, of a white and s Mulatte, being one quarter black, a Mustee, of a whit* and a Quadroon, or one-eighth black, and a Mustafina of awhile and a Mustee, being one-sixteenth black. Terms implying • much less admixture of black blood are prev alent in Cuba. Creole simply means a naiiv* of tropical climet. I V l! Have you," said a young lady, en. tering a music store in which we weresisnd ing and leaning over the counter, sod addres sing the young man, -'have you A Heart tbat I.ores Me only V "Yes, Miss," was the reply, "and ho re m A Health to Thee, Mary." Mary 'ook the songs, and was leaving the store, when suddenly she returned. "Oh, ! forgot 1 I want One Sweet Kiss before We Part.'' We left, and can't ssy whether she obtaiu ed it or not. ECUTIITL StMtt.E.--The altentioo of a tittle girl being called to a rose bush, on the top most stem of which the eldest rose was la ding,but below aud around which three beau tiful buds were unfolding their charms, she artlessly exclaimed to ter brother, "See, Willie, these little buds have just awakened to kiss their mother before she died." E7* Beecher Cheever, and other Levi.es of that class, tre oversowing with wrath. Stump speeches against the Supreme Court form their only Suuday labor, and Bduigsgee is poured out like water. GF" Set bounds to your zeal by discretiou, to error, by truth. to paestoa by reesea, to divisions, by charity IF The dissipatioas that person- rosott to, are like curtains which children tu bed part down to keep out the dark
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers