1 "FF.: 'TI'I B.H'. Weaver,-PrtoprieUr.] VOLUME 9. ■ 'iifr r i ra> s i ir# TIIR STAR OF THE NORTH IS PUBLISHED KVKRT WKDNRSTLAT MOCKING BY H. #, WEAVER, OFFICE — Upstnirs, in the new brick build ing, on the smith side oj Main Street, third square below Market. *l' Kit M BTwo Dollars per annum, if pnid within six months from the lime of sub scribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription re (•eived for a less period than six months; no discontinuance permitted until all arrearages ure paid, unless at lite option of the editor. AnvKRTtsEMF.NTs not exceeding one aqnare will be inserted three times for One Dollar, end twenty-five cdms for each additional in eeilion. A liberal discount will be made Id Ihos'e who advertise by the year. (Choice jpoetrji. IttlUEl VK. tOATifc*. TT Talk not to us about onr hoops Or of our skirts, nor what of loops, We'll wear just what we please, For every body now doth need Protection from ihe woolly breed, If sj)e regards her ease. Was over earth morecrnahed with (rash Than you who grow the vile mustache, And, with a sparing hand, Deal out to us in endless rhyme That wearing "hoops" is all a crime! But this we understand. There's some of yon look quite feline, While others look somewhat canine, And some seem both combined; Just as it seems to toil the taste Of would-be MEN in hottost baste, If they but had a mind. Then, 100, in tigs progressive age, A woolly Isce is all the rage, A human bead to mask; Which makes one look so very prim, Juke every other woolly-tim, But here jnst let me ask, Is there a hole about your head In which to put your daily bread ! If so, where is the place! For, I declare, no one can see Where such a spot can fairly be, About your woolly (ace. • And if you have it in use, And filled with vile tobacco juice, All ready for a squirt Upon some lady's fancy ilrcßS, Or in the face of lovliuess— What don't fall on your shir!. To smoke, and chew, and raise a crop Of fag-ond wool and act the lop, With lime and money spent, Just fills you cup of usefulness, While, 100, you are to filthiness A walking monument. And as jreu walk the streets about, I,ike some great awkward, lazy lout, Willi a long nine to puff. You thiuk yourself most wondrous wise, Ami like the toad quite large in size— But hold, I've said enough. From Lieut. Ilurbersham's " My Last C'lttse." LIFE IN JAVA. We have made the acquaintance o( a Mr. L. M. Squires, an American resident - of elev en years, end who subsequently joined the Hancock in the capacity of assistant natural ist. We were smoking our cheroota in the porch of the Amsterdam Hotel. "While we were thus smoking'in the chol evening breeze, we were joined by several gentlemen, acquaintances of Mr. Squires, ond who were presented to us. The usual comments upon the state of the weather were got off with happy snccesa, and then I every one bpgan to wait for his neighbor to say something else. Finally, one of the new arrivals, an Englishman, asked me ab ruptly, if I had ever seen a native under the influence of Ihe 'mock.' "The what!" I asked. "The muck! the runniflg muck." "I replied in the negative, adding that I bad never before heard the expression. "He expressed great surprise at this, and proceeded to tell us that the running muck was often productive of many deaths. "I thought Ibis a rather singular piece of information to come by itself, but contented myself with observing, "You don't say so!" "The Englishman cleared hi* throat, swel led very large, called for a glass of "aif-and arf,' and continued as follows: "Some few of the natives here consume quantities of opium in varions forms; and the result is that, in due course of lime, tbier features become sharp, the skin is drawn over diem liko parchment, and losing their minds, they become more ferocious and bloodthirsty than tigers themselves. Armed with the long and flexible Itreiss (a sharp ■ditk kuife, whose edges ere wavy and ol a beautiful temper,) they rush frantically Irom their houses—and ran aa awiflly as their limbs will carry tbam—sometimes naked— sometimes clothed, always mad. Rushing through the crowded streets ia this way, ibeir only aim seems to be to destroy life— -stabbing, biting, cursing, kicking every one whom chance throws across their path. "At soon us he is seen in this stale, terror proclaims the news far and wide. 'Amosk I aimoak !' i screamed by the whole popula tion, just at'fire! fire!' is in our own cities. Every man grasps the first weapon that comes to hand, and follows the flying path of the common enemy. Very long spears, are, however, preferred to the shorter kreisa ; and with these they pan him up in a corner, and lance him to death with as much or more gnslo than they woald a tiger. As many as forty persons were, once killed by nne of these tuaniacs before be could be 'cornered,' and yet there is no law against the use of opium." Tlth word "muck" is a corruption of lite Japanese "amoak" to kill; and this latter ia seldom heard, except when soma poor wretch is ranging the frightened town with strained muscles ami starting eyas, and with Uaatb closing around bis path at every stride. - BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTf, PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 15, 1857. - From the Public Ledger. "THE VALUE ■Of A UOOD WIFE." A SERMON preached in I'ine Street Cburcb, Philadelphia, on the sudden death of a fe male member of ihe Church. BY REV. THOMAS BRIINRRD, P. D. " The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her. So that he shall have no need of spoil." —Prov. xxxi, U. The richest blessings are not always the most obvious. It is the hidden moisture which ref-eshes the flower. It is the hidden spring which supplies the well. It is the nu triment, buried ic Ihe earth, which feeds tne fibres of the vine and tree, and thus devet opes the nourishing grape and the shady oak. The noisy cataract it not so beneficent as the gentle rill that glides almost without a murmur, and ia best known by the lively green of its border, and Ihe flowers' which deck its meandering course. In Ihe light ning's flash there is sublimity, but in useful ness it yields to the gentle taper, that lights up a cottage evening. Mankind ate moved by exhibitions of power. They are affected by social changes, which leave their mark in ilia world. Henoe they pause to moralize over the death of statesmen and heroes—over scholars and millionaires—but few have ever devoted lime aod thought and eulogy to mark their estimate of the value of a good wife—a good mother—a good woman. Iu Ibis respect, as iu most others, the Bible is in advance of human wisdom, and above human aptitude and tendency. It selects for its most elaborate, carefully worded and emphatic eulogy, the domestic vir tues of a faithful wife and mother. As the light of homo is almost the only radian which cheers the darkness of man's earthly lot, King Solomon turns aside to pronounce a benediction upon her who presides as a guardian angel at that altar. There was sufficient reason for this. What are the outside revelings of pleasure worth to him who is campelled to return to a filthy and disordered home? What is fame worth to bim who meets discord and reproach at his own door and in his own chamber I What can wealth do for him whose household is devoid of taste, order and comfort! What can the admiration of a crowd avail to him whose own fireside is heartless and desolate! It is not wonderful, then, that -the wisest of men, King Solomon, estimating things at | their real value, should ask, " Who can find a virtuous woman! for her price is far above rubies." • Elsewhere, it is said, "A pttrdent wife is from the Lord," and tho gifi is .Worthy of Ihe giver. Ttie text, speaking of sneh a wife, eays: "The heart of her husband doih safely trust in her." There is a peculiarity in Ibis lan guage. Ordinarily it is the office of divine truth to weaken oar confidence in earthly blessings. Thus it is said: "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." "Trust not in man, whose breath is in his nostrils." "Put not your trust in princes." "Tiust not in un certain riches." Human friendships are treacherous. Wealth is toocold to fill a warm heart. Fame hangs on a breath of air, and comes and goes, rises and fails, by the ca prices of a crowd. God ordinarily represents all earthly things as vanity. But in Ihe text he seems to make an ex ception in fßvorof a virtuous woman—of a true and faithful wife. He says: "The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her." And for what hutjjand trust in socha wife ! I. He may trust in her unselfish and perma nent affection. I say it with reverence, God cove's the love ol his creatures; and man, made in God's image, craves the love of oth ers, as essential to his own happiness. The man that asks no love is a monster. The man who expects none is a child of dospair. There may be hearts so frozen by selfishness, or ossified by pride and egotism, or paraly zed by disappointment, as to be indifferent to : affection. | But these are icebergs, drifting in darkness, |on Polar seas; cold, barren, desolate. In them no tree or shrub plants a root; no flow er sheds its fragrance there. No melody of living joy il chanted there. God found that il was not good for man to be alone, chiefly becaoae he needed the conscious affection of a female heart, to soften the asperities of his own, and thns give completeness to his being. In the deep, full affection of a wife's heart, Ihe husband finds that appreciation and in terest which every soul covets. This stimu lates his etcrprises. This makes him brave in petil. This cheers his hard labor. This comforts him under irritation, slander, re proach, in the outside world. To meet t|}is craving of man woman is adapted. She is not ambitious of wealth or fame.— She shrinks from great changes and great perils. She is not fitted for the struggles of the forum, the conflict of arms or the labors of the field. Her home is her earthly Heav en ; and ehe holds R loving heart to cheer him, to whom God has given a loftier ambi tion, a deeper craving of earth's wealth, • stronger arm and a higher courage. Subjected, by the ordinance of God and the laws of tbe land, to abide a sterner will than her own ; she is furnished with a wealth of affection which makes her burden or subor dination light, and melts and moulds to ten derness the controller of her deathiy! " I tm loved at home," eays the husband or the son; and this thoughugerves his prin ciple in the hour of tcmptimm, and gives solace lo hardkhfpg on tbe lan if or on the lone sea. The treasure of a wjfe's affection, like the grace of God, is given, not bought. Gold is i power. It can sweep down forests, raise cit; ies, build road* and deck hou*e. It can bribe silence or noisy praise. Il can collect troops of flatterers, and inspire awe end fear; but, Mas! wealth can never purchase love. Bonaparte essayed the subjugation of Europe under the influence of a genius almost in spired—an ambition insatiable—and backed by millions of armed men. He almost suc ceeded in swaying bis sceptre from the straits of Dover to the Mediterranean; from lite Bay of Biscay to the Sea of Azofl. On many a bloody field bis banner floated triumphant; but you will all bear witness that his greatest conquest was (he unboughl heart of Jose phine—his sweetest and most priceless treas ure, her outraged but unchanged love. II man have failed to estimate the affection of a true-hearted wife, be will be likely to mirk the value of bis loss, when (be heart which loved bim is stilled by death. 11. The heart of her husband doth safely trust. in a faithful wife for companionship. The fam ily relation gives retirement without solitude, and society without the rough intrusion of the world. It plants in the husband's dwel ling a friend wbo can bear his silence without weariness—who can listen to the detail of bis interests with sympathy—who can appreciste his repetition of even's, only important as thsy are embalmed in the heart. Common friends are linked to ng by a slender thread. We must retain them by ministering in some way to their interest or their enjoyment. As we cannot always give novelty and in terest to our conversation; as we cannot al ways make it for Ihe interest, convenience and pleasure of onr friends to adhere to us, as we are liable to those pecuniary and social vicissitudes which may iaa iheir patience or their purses, our ordinary friends, like sum mer birds, are liable to como and go—to be coldest when we most need sympathy—and absent and indiflercnt, when we most need their support. What a luxury it is for a man to feel that in his own home there is a true and effee tionate being, in whose presence he may throw off restraint without danger to his dig nity ; he may confide without tho fear of treachery ; and be sick or unfortunate without being abandoned. If in the outward world he grow weary of human selfishness, his heart can safely trust in one whose soul yearns for his happiness, ond whose indulgence overlooks his defects. No wonder lie says: " My every earthly joy lo blend, . And harmonize my life, Give roc d true, a lendor friend, , Ami bo that friend, thy wife." 111. The'heart of a husband doth safely trust in a faithful wije for personal comfort. Who is it that gives care to the neatness, order and tidiness of our dwellings, our halls, our parlors, our bedchambers! Who is it that consults our tastes, onr affinities, our repelhmces; and so regulates our tables, our couches, our apparel, as to minister to our comfert! Who is it that supplies OUT lack of inter est in ordinary tKings, and sends ns out into society prepared lo meet the claims of de cency, taste and propriety ! Who caters for our appetites and swelters in heated kitch ens for our indulgonce; and often, unthank cd and unblessed, plies the needle, hi the lone evening, for our benefit! Who is it that schemes by rigid economy lo get the most elegance and comfort from the least lax on our incomes! Who fur nishes tho ready pin, tho napkin, the band age for our wounds, the cup for our thirst, the friction for our aching head, the medi cine for our pains ! What angel of mercy is it that watches by our sick pillow, bears all our complaints and irritations, and moves witli muffled step when we slumber! The assiduilios of a faithful wife aro eo common, so various, so cheerful, so uncx acting, that husbands are likely to regard her kindness as they do tho sunlight and the dews of heaven—matters of course—to be received without gratitude. But tlie con stancy which makes them familiar—to a rightly constituted mind—deepens the sense of obligation. While tho husband safely trusts in the companion of his years for his personal comforts, she has a right to expect that her beneficence shall be appreciated. If not, he will bo likely to find her worth in her loss. Her absence or death, is, to tho littlo world of home, liko tho loss of the glowing sun, which alone protects our.carlh from eternal darkness and frost. IV. The heart of a husband doth safely trust in a faithful wife for counsel. It is difficult to find a friend who is so deeply interested in oiu welfare as to take the trouble lo study our perplexity—so con versant with us and our affairs as to under stand our wants and dangers—so morally brave as to venture to tell us unwelcomo thuths—so perfectly disinterested as to as sure us that no selfishness prompts His ad vice—and so persevering as repotitiousiy to urge that which is for our benefit. A wife is such a friend, and a wise man will often seek her counsel. Her love casts out fear. Her confidence . inspires boldness. She is always at band with her aid. Her eyes have seen all. Her cars heard all. Her hoart has felt all that pertains to our interest or our reputa tion. She is tho husband's other self at a I different affgle of vision, watching with earnestness for his welfare. And there is something in the ready, in- I stinctivo impressions of an intelligent wife whiclt no sane husband should ever de spise She does not pause to collect facts, weigh arguments, and draw inferences.— Her impressive nature which renders her indisposed slowly to reason, is furnished with an instinctive perception of the right, which is better than logic. Troth aod RUht—God ant,ir Country. . ~. iSL - * It is wonderful how often, in nicely balanc ed cases, when we appeal to the judgment of a wife, how instantly, she decides tbe question for us, and how generally she is right. In ordinary affairs within her province, the judgment of a wife is almost an instinct of propriety; or, rather an inspiration from Him who ordained "that by her oonnsel she should be a helpmate for man." l'tjate was embarrassed in the straggle between his sense of justice and his desire of popularity; but bis wife sai l at once, ' have thou noth ing to do with that just roan." Had he heed ed her counsel Pilate's hands would not have been stained with (lie blood of the Son of God. In the questions affecting the health of a husband—his good name—his morals—bis companionships—hit bgtti—ss etiLsypiise— his religion—how often hat the ready coun sel of a wife held him back from dar.ger, disaster end ruin. And how sad must be the brother here irom whom such a counsellor bath been recently removed by death. V. The heart of her husband do'h safely trust tn a faithful wife for competence. It is true, there are some wives who can not thus be trusted. Actuated by a foolish vanity of dress, furniture and eqnipage, and reckless ol a husband's toils, anxieties and pecuniary embarrassments, they will sustain a certain atyle in the present, even if tbey have to trample on a husband's broken heart and ruined reputation in the process. These are the wives that drive husbands to wild speculation, to fraud and embezzlement, to debts never to be paid, to lottery gambling, to desperation and a premature grave. But I am happy to believe thaj such •" are few. As a the principle of justice, economy and thrift is strong in the heart of a woman. Her home destiny qual ifies her for a minute regard to the details of domestic economy, and her love for her hus band and regard for the welfare of her chil dren dispose her to use wisely and well the earnings entrusted to her cou'rol. She i, the one that obeys Christ in "gathering up the fragments that nothing be lost." Iters is no hireling's eye and band. The husband lays his purse in her lap, assured that Ihe comfort and respectability of his house, and the interest of his property are safe in her keeping. He bath, says the text, "no need of spoil." He has no need of false pfetenco —of tricks ol trade—of grasping speculation —of over-trading snd t(lbt —of over-tasked energies and for hisR 1 ife i regulates his family expenditures by his fair i socqtne, end ia nsstsntßj|ttli her tot, flow crushing is the augmented responsibility, when a husband realizes that such.a care taker is no moro at the head of his house hold! VI. The heart of a husband can safely trust a faithful wife in the care and training af his childien. A father regards his children as a heritage from the Lord. Ilia sense of paremai resposi bilily, his yearning and absorbing affection, Iheir dependence, their .perils, their inexpe rience, their confidence—all combine to press them on his heart. But while these little ones, dearer to him than his own life, de mand constant tenderness and cure, this fath er must be nbroad Jor their support. He is a soldier, and must dwell in camps, lie is a captain, and must for months end year6make his homo on tbe deep. He is a merchant, and from morn to ftight-*must go where mer chants congregate? Ao is 'a banker, and most be fonnd at the desk. He is a me chanic, and l>>* trade. He is much abroad; when he returns he is too absorbed, 100 weary, too ifhpatient, to sympathize with litililtleor.es, to teach them ibeir prayers and smooth the pillow of their slumbers. He may be rich; but can money buy a heart to love these little ones as he loves them! Who will listen to their hundred grievances! Who will be unwearied by their clamor! Who will settle their little controversies Who will answer their thou sand questional will watch their in cipient ailments, arid patiently abido their nights of fCrer! WhesWill guide their open ing intellects and train to strength their form ing minds# Who will impress daily and hourly lessons of taste, refinement, self-con trol, benevoleuce and Ret)! Who will leach Iheir lisping Who wit! bear them, in tears and entreaty, to the alter of Him who on earth took little children in his arms and blessed them! The heart of a husband safely trusts all this to a faithlul wile aud mother. She rep resents all his affections, and mors than all his palienoe and care. " The highest confidence ever implied by one human being in another, is exhibited in tbe satisfied, confitling security with which a father gives up his -children—bis greatest treasures, to the sole guidance of s mother. When such a mother is removed by death, when the eyes th>t watched are dim, when the heart that yearned is still and cold, where can the husband and father find solace but ia resignation to the mysterious will of God! Such a wife and mother hath born sudden ly cut down in this church. An intelligent, amiable, smcerofWua ljeaued wife and moth- er, is a treasure not alone to her family, but to the world; and in.lha lose of such au oue, we have all occasion to mouru to-day. In view of this subject, I would asks wives and mothers now present, to remember that life ia uncertain. Valuable as they are to their husbands, their children, they are liable, liko their sister, at any lime to lie down and die. How carefully and prayerfully should they then five. How much do they need a praotical and earnest piety, that their respon sible duties may be aij: done and well done. As their children at# liable to be handed over to Ihe care of strangers, how necessary that they be lei early and safely to Christ. I view o* this subject, 1 would ask hue bands here, to appreciate those who make Ihe joy of their dwellings. Are not the kind ness of wives often unnoted, unlhanked, un regarded! Remomber, that these compan i ions of your existence fill offices of dignity | and high usefulness. They are shut out from the world's upplanse; let them rest in the assurance of your gratitude and consid eration. When you see litem still anil cold in death, it will not grieve yon to remember that your love has thrown sunshine into the shade of their allotment, that your prayera and example have given them aid in (be rigtit training of your children. In view of this subject we see how much necessity exists for personal and family re ligion. Wives are torn from their husbands, motbors are separated from their darling chil dren. The wand of death leaves the most cheerful family circle cold and desolate. There is but one relief. The pious dead ar* not lost, and in our deepest sorrows wo an allowed to look up and say— "There is a world above, Where parting is unknown; A long eternity of love, Formed for the good alone, And faith beholds the dying here Translated lo thai heavenly sphere." At tho grave of the good, wo may well adopt the language of tho Apostles: "Lord, to whom shall we go, for thou alone hast the words of eternal life!" Life here is a shadow—Heaven is a fixed and immutable reality; and "Blessed are the dead that have died in the Izird, for they rest from tW Lor., and their works do follow them." In respect to her whom yye all mourn, we may say— "Now take thy rest in thy shadowy hall, In thy mournful shroud reposing: There is no blight on thy soul to fall, No mist on its light is closing. It will shine in glory when lime is o'er, When eacli phantom of earth shall wither, When tho friends that deplore thee sigh no more, But lie down in the dust together. Thoughsad winds wail in the cypress bough. Thou art resting calm and uolroubled now." THE UKIDLE. " Don't go without a bridle, boys," was my grandfather's favorale bit of advice. Do you suppose wo are all teamsters or horse jockeys. No such thing. If he heard one cursing and swearing, or givsn lo much vain and foolish talk, "that man has lost his bridle," lie would soy.— Without a brittle, Jibe tongue, (hough a Ihil. member, "boasteth great things." It is "an unruly evil full of poison." * l'ut a bridle on, and it is one ol Ihe best servants the body afid soul have. "I will keep my mouth with a bridle," said King Dakid, and we can't do better than follow his example. Wh#n my grandfather saw u man drinking and carousing, or n hoy spending all his money lor cakes nnd candy, "poor fellow," he would say, "he's left off his bridle." The appetite needs training; let il loose, and it will run you lo gluttony, drunkenness, and all sorts of disorders. Be sure and keep a bridle on your appetite ; don't le' it be mas ter. And don't neglect to have one for your passions. They go mad if they get unman agable, driving you down a blind and head long course to ruin. Keep the check-rein : light; don't let it slip ; hold to it steady.— j " Never go out without your bridle, boys." | This was the bridle my grandfather meant —the bridle ol self-government. Parents try lo restrain and check their children, and you can generally tell by their behavior what children have such wis* and faithful parents. But parents cannot do everything. And some children have no parents to care for them.— Every hoy must have his own bridle, and ; every girl must have hers; they must learn ; lo check and govern themselves. Il becomes easier every day, if you practice il with a steady and resolute will. Ilia the foundations! of excellence. It ia Ihe culling and pnniing which makes the noble and vigorous tree of character. Leurn all Yoa t an. Somebody has given the following excel lent advice, which is worthy of being treas ured up by everybody. "Never omit an op portunity to learn all you can. Sir Walter Scott said even in a stage-coach he always fonnd somebody to tell him something be did not know before. Conversation is gen erally more nseful than book* for the purpo ses of knowledge. It is, therefore, a mistake to be morose and ailent when you are among persons whom yon think are ignorant; for a little sociability on yonr part will draw them out, and'lbey will be abler to teach you some thing. no matter how ordinary their employ ment. Indeed, some of the most sagacious remarks are made by persons of this descrip tion, respecting Ibeir particular pursuit. Hagh Miller, the famous Scotch geologist, owes not a little to tbe fang* of observations made when he was a journeyman stone ma son, and worked in a quarry. Socrates well said that there is but nne good which it knowledge, and but one evil which is ignor ance. Every gram of sand helps to make tbe heap. A gold digger takes the smallest nug gets, and is not (00l enough to throw them away because he hopes to find a huge lump some time. So in acquiring knowledge, we should never despise an opportunity, bow ever unpromising. If there is a moment's leisure, spend it over a good book, or in structive talking with the first person you meet. OT The corner stone of tho National Clay Monument, at Lexington, Ky., was laid on the 4th inst., with imposing ceremonies. THE WIFE- She who sleeps upon my heart Was the first lo wtn it; Slro who dreams upon my breast Ever reigns within it. She who Kisses oft my lips, Wakes their warmest blessing; She who rests within my arms Feels ibeir closest pressing. Other days than these shall come, Days that may be dreary- Other honrs shall greet us yet, flours that may be weary; Still this heart shall be thy throne, Still this breast shall be thy pillow; Still these lips shall meet thine oft As billow meeteth billow. Sleep, then, on my happy heart, Since thy love froth won it— Drna n, then, on thy loyal breast, Nuns but thou has done it; Ahd when age our bloom stroll change, With its wintry weather, May we in the self-same grave Sleep and dream together. ROYAL ANECDOTE. As Joseph 11., Emperor of Austria, was driving his one-horse cabriolet, dressed in the garb of a private citizen, he was accosted by u soldier, who mistaking him for a man of the middle class, requested a seat in tbe vehicle. "Willingly," replied ihe Emperor; "jump in, comrade, for I'm iu a hurry." The soldier was soon seated alongside of the Emperor, and became very loqhacious. "Come comrade," said he, slapping the Emperor familiarly on il Back, "are you good at guessing!" "Pebaps I am,"said Joseph, "try me." "Well, then, my boy, conjure up yur wits, and tell me what I had for breakfast!" "Sour kroul I" "Come, nose of that, comrade, try it again." "Perhaps a Westphalia ham," replied the Emperor, willing to humor his companion. "Belter than that," exclaimed the soldier. "Suusages from Bologna, uud Hockheimer from the Rhine." "Belter lhati that—d'yo give it up!" "I do." "Open your eyes and ears, then," said the soldier, bluntly. "I had a pheasant, by Jove, shot in the Emperor Joe's park, ha, ha!" When the exultation of tho soldier had subsided, Joseph said quietly: "I want lo try )our skill in guessing, com rade. See if you qati name the rank I hold." "You'r a—no—bong it! you're not smart enough for a cornet." "Better than that," said Hie Emperor. "A lieutenant!" "Better than that." "A captain V' "Better than that." "A major !" "Belter than that." "A general!" "Better than that." The soldier was now fearfully agitated; he had doffed his hat, and sal bare-headed; he could scarcely articulate. "Pardon me, your excellency, you are field marshal!" "Better than that," replied Joseph. "Lord help me," cried the soldier, "you'ra the Emperor V He threw himself out of the cabriolet, and knolt for pardon in the mud. The circum stances were not forgotten by either; the Em peror often laughed over it, and the soldier received a mark of favor whiob he could not forget. THE SECRET FOLICK OF PARIS. ■fliree days ngo, says a correspondent wri ting from Paris, whilst walking in the Ron de Hi vol i with a friend, my attention was called by the latter gentleman who was walking leisurely some paces before us. "Do you know who he is!" was the question put to me; and to my negative, reply, "If you have any curiosity about him," added my friend, "we will join him, and make him talk upon a subject very familiar to his understanding. He is no other than M , one of the per fects of police of the republic of 1847, who held the position for the longest period of lime, and best discharged that very difficult office." Of course, I profited by my friend's proposal; we joined M—, and, the mutual presentation effected, we journeyed on, all three together, up to the Champs Elysees, and on lo the outer side of the Arc de Tri omphs; after which we re-descended the Champs Elysees, by the side opposite to that by whieb we entered them. Our subject of conversation soon became Ihe anxiety of the government touching Ihe Emperor's safety. " Yes," remarked our new companion, " I do not need lobe apprised of that; 1 only need look around me as I walk ;" and this phrase our interlocutor explained in the fol lowing terms: "If it is of any interest to you, I will point out to you, as we go along, the individuals, under every imaginable disguise, who, some few years sir.ee, were Ihe soldiers of my ar my. They are everywhere, and by twenties, thirties, hundreds ; they are lounging or walk ing quick, apparently hurried by business; old and young, rich or poor, sack or healthy, listening to yoa and me as we converse, pry ing, spy iog, watching around." Anil, in truth, it was beyond measure curious to see the men M— pointed out to us, and with whom he every now and then exchanged an imperceptible sign of recognition. Out of those that struck me most,l will no tice a few. One was a lame beggarman, who went haolting along with a most piteous meio, and yvhem our informant told us was I remarkably clever at his trade. "Observe," ' said he, "how he always contrives lo slop [Two Dollars per Annua. NUMBER 27. lo resi himself whenever two or three men meet upon Hie Toot pavement end begin lo talk : he i listening lo what they ray."— Another waa alro very ingenious. This was an elderly looking invalid, closely wrapped up, attended by u lively servant, and who had ensconced himself in the very middle ol a gioup of sitters of both sexes, whom the first rays of this premature sunshine had se duced Jto what are usually the haunts of a month later. Others again (and a great many) were dressed as workmen—some in blouses, some iu working jackets ; several were attir ed in "shabby genteel" costume, looking like poor or employees , whilst some were as elegantly dressed, and appear ed as gentleraaulike as the generality of du. cere in Paris ball-rooms. "The place where you may see the most of these gentry," said M , "is—if you will come as far as (be- rouod point of the Champs Elysees—the fountain. It is their gathering place; they know thai, in the course of the day, they can always be sure lo find each other there." Sure enough, when we reached the fountain, we found 4 small circle ol these police heroes ; and as we approach ed, our informant designated them lo Us. "You see the seedy looking than with a bur.dle of papers under his arm, the journey man painter lolling against 'the edge of a ba sin, the dandy examining the play of the water through his eye glass, and that tall, raw, ragged yooth trying lo make a bit of a boat sad along. Well, I know every man of them.. They are all mmUhnrds! (police spies ) As we passed quite close lo these hidividu als, we noticed that our companion was evi dently known to them; but, as be himself remarked, "tbey did not venture to bow" to him. Further ou, however, close to the Tri umphal Arch, we met an elderly man dressed extremely well, and carrying "respectability" in every feature. "To this one. if you like," said M—, "I will speakand ho accord higly accosted him thus : " Well, so and ao, then yoo carry on your trade still? I should have thought it waa pretty nearly time lo retire from business." "Ah ! Monsieur le Perfect!" was the an swer of the man, who could not make up his mind to treat as an ordinary mortal hint who had once been his immediate supetioi, " I really cannot consent to give np my young men and the fair ladies; thsy interest me—l have the habit of them I" This needs explanation. The mart in ques tion is especially charged to watch over a certain class of ladies in their relationship with young men of family; his observations all went to prove that never, in any time, ha.l the youth of France been so immoral, so de graded ; but he always ended by saying he conld not give them up yet, because ha had "the habit of them." I confess that this little out-of-door insight into the "manners and customs" of the Par isian police amused me much ; and I havo thought that, sketched as it is from "the life," it might not be without interest to your read ers. TUB CARNIVAL (IF ADJECTIVEB. Foremost among the freaks of language is the capering of adjectives. They skip and bound and surge and roar in such various ways, anil with such grotesque effect, as to keep up a constant carnival. Not unfrequcm ly they are made to confound qualities, ap pearances and senses, as in the case oftho old lady who said that she loved oysters be cause they left "a pretty taste in her mouth," and who iusisted moreover that she haled "an ugly smell" and waa very fond of "handsome music." Sometimes (hose which properly relate lo size or fotm are applied incongruously lo mental efTorta, such as "a tall speech," "a big sermon," "a ft! thought," "a huge argument." At other tiriies they are tumbled together with significations so nearly synonymous as to render language vapid, of which these are specimens: <!Hn is acontented, satisfied and happy man," "a talkative, voluble and loquacious fellow," "a pleasant and agreeable companibn," "a brutal and savage monster." Very often flie finest adjectives in the vernacular, tdllick about wiib sad company: "a magnificent pig," "a superb shad," "a splendid eat," and the lik, are examples of the free* compan ionship. On the other hand those which ara best suited lo ordinary purposes are often found in the company of extraordinary things, affording a literal bat not philosophical ful fillment of the rule, thst "adjectives belong to the nouns which tbey desctibe." This thought is suggested by the remark of the Cockney, on viewing the Fslls of Niagara— "decidedly, f may say very pretty," and by the observation of the Yankee-"a large water power, I reckon." What man of feel ing is there who could have stood by and listened to such nonsense, without being im pelled lo thrash the simpletons who uttered it? But it must be remembered that Ilia harlequins in this carnival enjoy a perfect freedom from restraint, and talk and act just as they please, and we mast therefore for give the Cockney nnd the Yankert, as well ae numberless other offenders whose jollity would be disturbed by barth treatment. So long as the world goes on sa it does, the | sport will be continued and enjoyed by a certain sort of people. Yet, in the mean time, we would suggest thai "Adjectiviana" is a new theme, and one which may some day be done up with embolishmenls in a public lecture with amaaiog effect.—Penn sylvania!). • XSP It is a truth not unworthy of consider ation, that those who obstinately refuse to give up abuses, will inevitably be called up on to surretider uses.
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