The star of the north. (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, July 15, 1857, Image 1

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    1 "FF.: 'TI'I
B.H'. Weaver,-PrtoprieUr.]
■ 'iifr r i ra> s i ir#
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."
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. -
From the Public Ledger.
A SERMON preached in I'ine Street Cburcb,
Philadelphia, on the sudden death of a fe
male member of ihe Church.
" 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
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
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
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
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
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
VI. The heart of a husband can safely trust a
faithful wife in the care and training af his
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, 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
But lie down in the dust together.
Thoughsad winds wail in the cypress bough.
Thou art resting calm and uolroubled now."
" 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
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
OT The corner stone of tho National Clay
Monument, at Lexington, Ky., was laid on
the 4th inst., with imposing ceremonies.
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.
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
"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
"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
"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.
■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, 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.
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
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.