THE STAR OF THE NORTH. R. IV. Reaver, Proprietor.] VOLUME 9. TUB STAR OF THE NORTH ts PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNINU BY It. W. WEAVER, OFFlCE—Upstairs, in the new briek build ing, on the south side oj Main Street, third square below Market. EH Rt S: —Two Dollars per annum, if paid within six months from ihe time of sob ficribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No aubpeription re reived lor a less period than six months; no discontinuance permitted until all arrearages ere paid, unless at the option of the editor. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square will be inserted three times for One Dollar, nnd twenty five cents for each additional in eeition. A liberal discount will be made to those who advertise by the year. Choice [Joe fry. HOOFS V. OOATEES. Talk not to us about our hoops Or of our skirls, nor what ol loops, We'll wear just what we please, For every body now doth need I'roteotion from the woolly breed, If she regards her ease. Was ever earth more crushed with trash Than you who grow the vile mustache, And, with a sparing hand, Deal out to ns in endless rhyme That wearing '"hoops" is all a crime! But this wo understand. There's somo of you look quite feline, While others look somewhat canine, And sorre seem both combined; Jnst as it seems to suit the taste Of would-be MEN in hottest haste, If they but had a mind. Then, too, in this progressive age, A woolly lace is all the rage, A human head to mask; Which makes one look so very prim, I.ike every other woolly-tim, But here just let me ask, Is there a hole about your head In which to put your daily bread ! If so, where is the place? For, 1 declare, no one can see Wheroauch a spot can fairly be, About your woolly face. And if you have it ir. use, And filled with vile tobacco juice, All ready lor a squirt Upon some Lily's fancy dress, Or in the face of lovliness— What don't fall on your shirt. To smoke, and chew, and raise a crop Of fag-end wool and act the fop, With time and money spent, Just fills you clip of uselulness, While, 100, you are lo filthiness A walking monument. And as you walk Ihe streets about, Like some great awkward, lazy lout, With a long nine to puff. You think yourself most wondrous wise, And like the load quite large in size— But liold, I've said enough. .■ . From Litut. Harbersham's "My Last Cnuse." LIFE IN JAVA. We have made the acquaintance of a Air. L. M. Squires, an American resident of elev en years, and who subsequently joined the Hancock in the capacity of assistant natural ist. We were smoking our cheroots in the porch of the Amsterdam Hotel. "While we were thus smoking in the cool evening brepze, we were joined by several gentlemen, acquaintances of Mr. Squires, and who were presented to us. The usual comments upon the Btate ol the weather were got off with happy success, and then every one began to wait for his neighbor to say something else. Finally, one of the new arrivals, an Englishman, asked me ab ruptly, if I bad ever seen a native under the influence of the 'muck.' "The what?" I asked. "The muck! the running muck." "I replied in the negative, adding that I had 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 this a rather singular piece of information to come by itself, but contented myself with observing, "You don't say so !" "The Englishman cleared his throat, swel led very large, called for a glass of "arf-and arf,' and continued as follows: "Some few of the natives here consume quantities of opium in various forms: and the result is that, in due course of time, tliier features become sharp, the skin ia drawn ever them like parchment, and losing their minds, they become more ferocious and bloodthirsty than tigers themselves. Armed with the long and flexible kreiss (a sharp dirk knife, whose edges are wavy and ol a beautiful temper,) they rush frantically Irom their houses—and run as swiftly as their limbs will carry them —sometimes naked— sometimes clothed, always mad. Rushing through the crowded streets in this way, their only aim seems to be to destroy life— tubbing, biting, cursing, kicking every one whom chance throws across their path. "As soon as he is seen in this state, terror proclaims the news far and wide. 'Amoak! atnoak !'is screamed by the whole popula tion, just as 'fire! fire !' is in our own cities. Kvery man grasps the first weapon that V comes to hand, and follows the flying path of the common enemy. Very long spears, arc, however, preferred to the shorter kreiss ; and with these they pen him up in a corner, and lance him to death with as much or more gusto than they would a tiger. As many as forty persons were once killed by one of these maniacs before he could be 'cornered,' and yet there is no law against the use of opium." The word "muck" is a corruption of the Japanese -'amoak" to kill; and this latter is seldom heard, except when some poor wretch is ranging the frighteiiod town with strained muscles and starting eyes, and with death closing around bis path at every stride. BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY. PA., WEDNESDAY. JULY 15, 1857. From the Public ledger. "THE VALUE OF A UUUD WIFE." A Sermon preached in Pino S'reet Church, 1 hiladelphia, on the Midden death of a le niale member of the Church. BY REV. THOMAS BRAIN KM), D. D. " The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her. So that he shall have no need of .-.pod." —l'rov. xxxi, 11. 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 tho nu triment, buried ic the earth, which feeds tne fibres of the vine and tree, and thus devel opes the nourishing grape and the shady oak. The ooisy cataract is not so beneficent as i the gentle rill that glides almost without a [ murmur, and is best known by the lively green of its border, and the flowers which deck its meandering course. In tho light ning's flash there it sublimity, but in useful ness it yields to the gentle taper, that lights up a cottage evening. Mankind are moved ;by exhibitions of power. They are affected by social changes, which leave their mark in lite world. Hence they pauso to moralize over the death of statesmen and heroes—over scholars and millionaires—but few have uver devoted time and thought and eulogy to murk their estimate of the value of a good wife—a good mother—a good woman. In this respect, as in most others, tho Bible is in advance of human wisdom, and above human aptitude and tendency. It selects for its most elaborate, carefully wordod nnd emphatic eulogy, the domestic vir tues of a faithful wife and mothor. As the light of l.otno is almost the only radiance 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 sre the outside revelings of pleasure worth to him who is compelled to return to a filthy and disordered home ? What is fame worth to him who meets discord and reproach at his own door and in his own chamber! What can wealth do for him whose household is dovoid 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 tho 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 prudent wife is from the Lord," and the gift is worthy of the giver. The text, speaking of such a wife, says: "The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her." There is a peculiarity in this lan guage. Ordinarily it is the office of divine truth to weaken onr confidence in earthly blessings. Thus it is said; "He that trustoth in his own heart is a fool." "Trust not in man, whose breath is in his nostrils." "l'ut 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 the text lie seems to 'make an ex ception in favor of a virtuous woman—of a true and faiihlul wife. He says: "The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her." And for what may the husband trust in such a wife ? I. He may trust in her unselfish and perma nent affection. I say it with reverence, God cove's the love ot 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 matt who expects none is a child of despair. 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. 1 But these are icebergs, drifting in darkness, on Polar sea; cold, barren, desolate. In them no tree or shrub plants a root; no flow er sheds its fragrance there. No melody of living joy is chanted there. God found that it was not good for man to be alone, chiefly because he needed the consctons affection of a female heart, to soften the asperities of his own, and thus give completeness to his being. In the deep, full aflection of a wife's heart, the 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 this craving of man woman is adapted. She is not ambitious of wealth or fame.— She shrinks (rom great changes and great perils. She is not fitted for tho straggles of the forum, tho conflict of arms or the labors of the field. Her home is her earthly Heav en ; and she holds a loving heart to cheer him, to whom God has given a loftier ambi tion, a deeper craving of earth's wealth, a stronger arm and a higher courage. Subjected, by the ordinance of God and the laws of the land, to abide a sterner will than her own ; she is furnished with a wealth of affection which makes her burden of subor dination light, and melts and moulds to ten derness (ho controller of her destiny. " I am loved at home," says the husband or the son; and this thought nerves his priu eiple in the hour of temptation, and givos solace to hardships on the land or on the lone sea. The treasure of a wife's affection, like tho grace of God, is given, not bought. Gold is puwer. It can sweep down forests, raise oil ies, build rnada and deck houses. It can bribe silence or noisy praise. It can collect troops of flatterers, and inspire awe and fear; but, alas! 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. Ho almost suc ceeded in swaying his sceptre from the straits of Dover to the Mediterranean ; from the Bay of Biscay to the Sea of Azofi. On many n bloody field his banner floated triumphant; but you will all bear witness that his greatest conquest was the unbnught heart of Jose phine—his sweetest and most priceless treas ure, hor outraged but unchanged love. II man have failed to estimate the affection of a true-hearted wife, he will be likely to mark the value of his loss, when the heart which loved him 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 plaids in the husband's dwel ling a friend who can bear his silence without weariness—who can liston to the detail of his interests with sympathy—who can appreciate his repetition of even's, only important as they are embalmed in the heart. Common friends are linked to us 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 wo cannot al ways make it for the interest, convenience and pleasure of our friends to adhere to us, as we are liable to those pecuniary and social vicissitudes which may lux their patience or Jheir purses, our ordinary friends, like sum- Tner birds, aro liable to come and go—to bo coldest when we most need sympathy—und absent and indifferent, when we most need their suppmt. What u luxury it is for a man to feci that in his own home there is a true and affec- Donate being, in whose presence he may throw off restraint without danger to his dig nity ; lie may confide without the fear ol 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, nnd whose indulgence overlooks his defects. No wonder ho says: " My every earthly joy to blond, And harmonize my life, Give me a mio, a tender friend, And bo that friend, my unfe." lir. The heart of a husband (loth safely trust in a faithful wife 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, our affinities, our repellances; and so regulates our tables, our couches, our apparel, as to minister to our comfort? Who is it that supplies our lack of inter est in ordinary things, and sends us out into society prepared to meet the claims of de cency, taste and propriety ? Who caters for our appetites and swelters in heated kitch ens for our indulgence; and often, untliank ed and unblessed, plies the needle, ill the lone evening, for our benefit? Who is it that schemes by rigid economy to get the most elegance and comfort from the least tax 011 our incomes? Who fur nishes the ready pin, the 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 with muffled step when we slumber ? The assiduities of a faithful wife are so common, so various, so cheerful, so uncx acting, that husbands arc likely to regard her kindness as they do the sunlight and the dews of heaven —matters of course—to be received without gratitude. But the con | stancy which makes them familiar—to a rightly constituted mind—deepens the sense of obligation. While the 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 be likely to find her worth in , her loss. Her absence or death, is, to tho I little world of home, like the loss of the I glowing sun, which alone protects our cartii from eternal darkness and frost. IV. Tlic 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 our welfare as to take the trouble to study our perploxity—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 unwelcome thuihs—so perfectly disinterested as to as sure us that no selfishness prompts his ad vice—and so persevering as repetitiously to urge that which is for ourbenelit. A wife is such a friend, and a wise man will often seek licr counsel. Her lovo casts out fear. Her confidence inspires boldness. She is always at hand with her aid. ller eyes have seen all. ller oars havo heard all. Her heart has felt all that pertains to our interest or our reputa tion. She is tho husband's other self at a different angle of vision, watching with earnestness for his welfare. And there is something in tho ready, in stinctive impressions of an intelligent wife which no sano husband should ever de spise She does not pause to collect facts, weigh arguments, and draw inferences.— Her impressive nature which rendors hur indisposed slowly to reason, is furnished with an iustiuctivo perception of tho right, which is better than logic. • Truth and Bight God IMI oor Country. It is wonderful how often, in nicely balano ed cases, when we appeal to the judgment of a wife, how instantly she decides the question lor 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 counsel she should be a helpmate for man." I'ilate was embarrassed in the struggle between his sense of justice and his desire of popularity; but his wife said at euce, "have thou noth ing lo do with that just man." Had he heed ed her counsel Pilate's bands would not have been stained with the blood of the Son of God. In the question* affecting the health of a husband—his good name—-bis morals—bis companionships—his business enterprise— his religion—how often I'.aa tho ready coun sel of a wife held him back from danger, disaster and ruin. Am! how sad must be the brother here Irom whom such u counsellor hath been reeer.tly removed by death. V. The heart if tier husband dmli safely trust in (i faithful u'ifc for competence. It is true, there aro soma wives who can not thus he trusted. Actuated by n foolish vanity of dress, furniture nnd equipage, and reckless ol a husband's toils, anxieties and pecuniary embarrassments, they will sustain a certain style in tho present, even if they havo to trample on a husband's broken hoarl and ruined reputation in the process. These aro the wives that dove husbands to wild speculation, to fraud and embezzlement, lo debts never to be paid, to lottery gambling, to desperation nnd a premature grave. But 1 am happy to believe that such cases are lew. As a general Let, 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 Ihe details of domestic economy, and her love for Iter hus band and regard for the welfaro of Iter chil dren dispose hor to use wisely and well the earnings entrusted to her con'rol. Bite is the one that obeys Christ in "gathering up the fragments that nothing be lost." Ilers iv no hireling's eye and hand. The husband lays his purse in Iter lap, assured that the comfort and respectability of his house, and the interest of his property are safe in her keeping. He hath, says the text, "no need of spoil." lie has no need of false pretence —of tricks ol trade—of grasping speculation —of over-trading and debt—of over-tasked energies and feverish dreams; for his wife regulates his family expenditures b- bis lair income, and is contented with hftr lot. How 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 utul training of his child)en. A father rpgards his children as a heritage from the Lord. His sense of parental resposi bility, his yearning and absorbing affection, their dependence, (heir 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, tie mnnd constant tenderness and cuic, this fath er must bo abroad for their support. He is a soldier, and must dwell in camps. He is a captain, and must for months and years make his home on the deep. Ho is a merchant, and ftom morn to night must go where mer chants congregate. He is a banker, and must be found at the desk. He is a me chanic, and must ply his trade. He is much abroad; when he returns he is too absorbed, too weary, 100 impatient, to sympathize with his little ones, to tench them their 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 questions? Who will watch their in cipient ailments, and patiently abide their nights of fever? Who will gttide their open ing intellects and train to strength their form ing minds? Who will impress daily and hourly lessons of taste, 'efinement, self-con trol, benevolence and piety? Wltn will leach their lisping tongues to pray? Who will bear them, in tears and entreaty, to the alter of Him who on earth took little children in his arms and blessed them? Tlie beart of a husband safely trusls all j ibis to a faithful wife and mother. She rep resents all his affections, and more than all his patience and care. Ttie highest confidence ever implied by J one human being in another, is exhibited iu the satisfied, confiding security with which a father gives up his children—his greatest treasures, to the sole guidance of a mother. When such a mother is removed by death, when the eyes that watched are dim, when the lieait that yearned isetill and cold, where can the husband und father find solace but in resignation to the mysterious will of God? Such a wife and mother hath been sudden ly cut down in this chutoh. An intelligent, amiable, sincere, true-hearted wife and moth er, is a treasure not alone to her family, but to the world; and in the loss of such an oue, we have all occasion to mourn to-day. In view of this subject, I would asks wives and mothers now present, to remember that life is uncertain. Valuable as tbey are to their husbands, their children, they are liable, like their siater, at any nine to lie down and dio. How carefully and prayerfully ihould they ihon live. How much do they need a I practical and earnest piety, that their respou aible duties may be all doue and well done. I As their children are liable lobe handed over lo the care of strangers, how necessary that they be led early and safely to Christ. 1 view o f this subject, I would ask hus bands here, to appreciate those who make the joy of their dwellings. Are not Ihe kind ness of wives olten unnoted, uuthauked, un regarded? Remember, that these compan ions of your existence fill offices of dignity and high usefulness. They are shut out from the world's applause; let litem rest in the assurance of your gratitude and consid eration. When you see litem still and cold in death, it will not grieve you lo remember that your love lias thrown sunshine into the shade of their allotment, that your prayers and example have given them aid ill the right training of your children. In view of this subject we soe how much necessity exists lor personal and family re ligion. Wives are torn from llieir fiu.bands, mothers are separated from Ihoir (tailing chil dren. The wand of death leaves the most cheerful faintly circle cold and desolate. There is but one teltef. The pious dead are not lost, and in our deepest sorrows we an allowed to look up and say— "There is a world übovc, Where parting is unknown; A long eternity of love, Formed lor the good alone, And faith beholds the dying hero Translated to that heavenly sphere." At the grave of the good, wo may well adopt the language of the Apostles: "Lord, to whom shall we go, lor 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 ill the Lord, for they rest from their la bors, and their works do follow them."" In respect lo her whom we all mourn, wo may say— "Now lake iliy rest in thy shadowy hall, In thy mournful shroud reposing; There is no blight on thy soul to lull, No mist on its light is elosiug. It will shine in glory when time is o'er, When each phantom of earth shall wither, When the friends that deplore llieo sigh no more, lint lie down in the dust together. Though sad winds wail in the cypress bough, Thou art resting calm and untroubled now." TUB lilt I DLL'. " Don't go without n bridle, boys," was my grandfather's fuvorate bit of advice. Do you suppose wc are all teamsters or horse jockeys. No such thing. II lie heard one cursing and swearing, or given to much vain and loolish talk, "that man has lost his bridle," he would say.— Without a bridle, die tongue, though a little member, "boasted) great things." It is "an unruly evil full o( poison." l'ul a bridle on, and it is one ol the best servants (he body and soul have. "I will keep my mouth with a bridle," said King David, and we can't do better than follow his example. When my grandfather saw a man drinking and carousing, or a hoy spending all his money lr cakes and candy, "poor fellow," he would say, "he's left off his bridle." The appeiite needs training; let it loose, and it will run yon to 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. Ksep the check-rein tight; don't let it slip ; hold to it steady.— " Never go out without your bridle, boy*." This was the bridle my graudfaiher meant —the bridle ol self-government. Parents try to restrain and check tboir children, and you can generally tell by their behavior what children have such wise and faithful parents. But parents cannot do everything. And some children have no parents to care for them.— livery boy must have his own bridle, and every girl must have her.*; they must learn to clfti k and govern themselves. It becomes easier every day, if you practice it with a steady and resolute will. It is die foundation of excellence. It is the cutting and pruning which makes the noble and vigorous tree o( character. Lcarti nil Yon Can. Somebody has given the following excel lent sdvice, 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 found somebody to tell him something he did not know before. Conversation is gen erally more useful than books for the purpo ses of knowledge. It is, therefore, a mistake to be morose and silent when you are among persons whom you think are ignorant ; for a little sociability on your part will draw them out, and they will be able to teach you some thing. no mutter how ordinary their employ ment. Indeed, some of the most sagacious remarks are made by persons of this descrip tion, respecting tbeir particular pursuit. Hugh Miller, tba famous Scotch geologist, owes not a little to die fame of observations made when he was a journey man stone ma son, and worked in a quarry. Socrates well said that mere is but one good which is knowledge, aud but one evil which is ignor ance. Every grain of sand helps to make the heap. A gold digger takes the smallest oug ! gets, and is not 100 l er.ongh to throw theui I away because he hopes to find a huge lump | sometime. So in acquiring knowledge, we j should never despise an opportunity, how j ever unpromising. If there M a uiomem s | leisure, spend it over a good book, or in structive talking with the first persou you meet. OT The corner stone of the National Clay Monument, at I-exington, Ky , was laid on the 4th inst, with imposing cereiuouies. I'll K Wil li- She who sleeps upon my heart Was the first to win it; Site 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 itioir closest pressing. Oilier days than these shall come, l>ays that may be dresry— Other hours shall greet us yet, Hours 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 meelcth billow. Sleep, llien, on my happy heart, Since thy love hath won il—- Drea n, then, on thy loyal breast, None but thou lias done il; And wlisn age our blqom shall change, Willi its wintry weather, May we in the self-same grave Sleep mid dream together. Roy Af< A N EC DO I'K- As Joseph 11., Emperor of Austria, was driving his one-horse cabriolet, dressed in the garb of a private citizen, lie was accosted by a soldier, who mistaking him (or a man of the middle class, requested a seat in the vehicle. "Willingly," replied the Kmporor; "jump in, comrade, for Pin in a hurry." The soldior was soon sealed alongside of the Emperor, and tweamo very loquacious. "C'omo comrade," said he, slapping the Emperor familiarly on the back, "are you good at guessing 1" "I'ehaps I am," said Joseph, "try me." •'Well, Iher., my boy, conjure up your wits, and tell mh what 1 bad for breakla-il!" "Sour krout!" "Come, nono of that, comrade, try it again." "Perhaps a Westphalia ham," replied the Emperor, willing to humor his companion. "Hotter than thai," exclaimed the soldier. "Sausages from Bologua, and llocktieimcr from the Rhine." "Heller than that—d'ye give it up?" "I do." "Open your ej us and ears, then," said tho soldier, bluntly. "I had a pheasant, by Jove, shot ill the Emperor Joe's park, ha, ha!" When the exultation of the soldier had subsided, Joseph said quietly: '•I want to try your skill in guessing, com rade. See il you can name the rank I hold." | "Vou'r a—no—hang it! you're not smart enough for aeornet." I "Better than thai," said tho Emperor. "A lieutenant V "Better than that." "A captain f" "Better than that." "A major V "Belter than that." "A general t" "[letter than that." The soldier was now fearfully agitated; he i had doffed his hat, and sal bare-headed; he could scarcely articulate. "i'ardon me, your excellency, you are field ; marshal ?" "Heller titan that," replied Joseph. "Lord help me,"cried the soldier, "you're the Emperor V He threw himself out of the cabriolet, and knelt for pardon in the mud. The circum stances were not forgotten by either: the Em peror often laughed over it, anil the soldier received a mark of favor which he could not forget. THE SECRET PULICK OF PARIS. Three days ago, says a correspondent wri ting from Paris, whilst walking in the Ron de liivoli wilh a friend, my atlentioti was called by the latter gentleman who was walking leisurely some paces before us. 'Do you know who he is!" was lti3 ques ion put to me ; and to my negative reply, ' If you t.uve any curiosity about him," added tny friend, "we will join him, and make him" talk upon a subject very familiar to his understanding. He is no other than 11 . one of the per fects of police of the republic of IS 17, who held the position for the longest period o! lime, an J best discharged that very difficult office." Of course, 1 profited by my friend s proposal; we joined M . and, the mutual presentation effected, we journeyed on, all three together, up to the Champs F.tysees, and on lo the ouier side of the Arc de Tri omphe; after which we re-descended the Champs Elysees, by the side opposite to that by which we entered them. Our subject of conversation soon became die anxiety of the j government touching the Emperor's salcty. I Yes," remarked our new companion, " I 1 do not need lo be apprised of that: 1 only need look around tne as I walk and this | phrase our inteilocutor c.vpleined in the tol j lowing terms: " If it is of any interest to yon, I will point 1 out to you, as we go along, the iudividuals, under every imaginable disguise, who,some few years since, were lite soldiers ot my ar mv. They are everywhere, aud by twenties, thirties, huudreds ; they are lounging or walk ing quick, apparently hurried by business : old and young, rich or poor. sek or healthy, listening to you and me as we converse, pry ing, spying, watching around.'' And, in truth, it was beyond measure curious to see the meu M—— pointed out to us, and with whom he every now and theu exchanged an imperceptible sign of recognition. Out of those that struck me most, I wilt no tice a few. One was a lame beggar man, who west haultittg along with a most piteous mem, aud whciu out informant told us was remarkably clever at hie trade. "Obsstve,'* said he, "bow 1M always contrives to stop [Two Dollars per Annas* NUMBER 27. 10 rect himself whenever two or three men meet upon the foot pavement ami beglh to talk : he is listening to what lliey say."— Ano'lier was also very ingenious. Thla Was nil elderly looking invalid, closely wrapped up, aitetided by a livery servant, and who had ensconced himself ill the very middle ol a gtoup of sitters of boih sexes, whom the first rays of litis prematura sunshine had se duced )lo what are uslially the haunts of a month later. Others again (and a great many) were dressed as workmen—some in blouses, some in working jackets ; several were attir ed in "shabby genteel" cottnmo, looking like poor professors, or employees ; whilst some were as elegantly dressed, and appear ed as gentlemanlike as the generality of den cera in l'aiia ball-room". "Tho place where you may see lite most of these gentry," said M—, "i—if you wilt come as far as the round point of the Chumps Klysees—tho fountain. !t is their gathering place; they know that, hi the course of the day, they can always he sure to find each other iliere." Sure enough, when we reached the fountain, we found a small circle nl these police liapci; and as wo approach ed, nnr informant designated them to us. "Von see the seedy looking man with a bur.dle of papers under his arm, the journey man palmer 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 youth trying to make a bit of a ■ boat sad along. Well, I know every man of them. They are all moiulutrds! (police spies.) 1 As we passed qnile close to these individu als, we noticed that our companion was evi dently known tothern;but, as he himself remarked, "they did not venture to bow" to him. Further on, however, close to the Tri umphal Arch, we met an elderly man dressed extremely well, anil carrying "respectability" in every feature. "To this one. if you like," said M , "I will speak ;" ami he accord ingly accosied him thus: " Well, so and so, then you carry on your trade still? 1 should have thought it was j pretty nearly lime to reiire from business." | "Ah ! Monsieur la Perfect!" wss the an swer of the mac, who could not make up his mind to treat as an ordinary mortal htm who hud once been his immediate superior, " I really runnul consent to give up my young inen and the lair ladies; they interest me—l ; have the habit of them!" 1 This needs explanation. Tits mart in rpiee lion is especially charged to watch over a j certain ila of ladies in their relationship I with young men of family : his observations i all went to prove that never, in any time, had | the youth of France been sc intraoral, so de- I graded ; but he always ended by saying he l could not give them up yet. because h had I "the habit of them " I confess that this little nut-of door instgh' I into the "manners and customs" of the I'ar j iian police amused me macb ; and I have i thought that, sketched as it is from "the life," I it might not be without interest to your read ers. TIIE C'AltftlV AI. (IF ADj FCTIV ES. Foremost amort? the freaks of language is llie capering of adjectives. They skip and bound and surge and roar in such various ways, and with such grotesque effect, as to keep up a constant carnival. Not unfrequent ly they arc made to confound qualities, ap pearances and senses, as in the case of the old lady who said that she loved oysters be cause they left t; a pretty taste in her mouth," and who insisted moreover thai she hated "an ugly smell" and was very fond of '■handsome music."' Sometimes those which properly relate to size or form are applied incongruously to mental efforts, such ais ''a tall speech," "a big sermon," "a (at thought," "a huge argument." At othet limes they are tumbled together with significations so nearly synonymous as to render language vapid, of which these are specimens: ''.He is acontenird, satisfied and happy ntan,' 1 "a talkative, voluble and loquacious fellow," ;l a plea-ant anj agreeable companion," "a brutal and savage monster."' Very often the finest adjectives in the vernacular, rollick about with sad company "a magnificent pig," ''a superb shad," "a splendid cat." ami the lik, are examples of the free compan iodship. Ou the o'herhand those which are best suited to ordinary purposes are often I found io the company of extraordinary things, affording a liters! but not philosophical ful fillment of the rule, that ' adjectives belong to the nouns which they describe." Thie thought is suggesied by the remark of the Cockney, on viewing (he Falls of Niagara— I "decidedly, 1 may say very pretty,"' and by the observation of the Yankee— "a Urge water power, 1 reckon.'' What man of feel ing is there who could have stood by and listened to such nonsense, whhout being un -1 polled lo thrash the simpletons who uttnred iit ? But k must be remembered that the harlequins in this earmvai enjoy a perfect freedom from restraint, and talk, and act jest as they please, and we must therefore for- give the Cockney aud the Yankee, as well as numberless oiher ctieuders whose jotiity would be disturbed by hacsii treatment. So long as the world goes ease it does, the sport will be coanuued aud enjoyed by a : curtain son of peoyne. Yet, Is the moan t.me, we would suggest that "Adjectieiee* r is a new 'heese, and one which may some Idav be done up wilii embelishmeole ess public lecture with amazing eilltet f**n syfamara. 1 OT" It is a truth not ttuwotthy ot oousider ■ atiori, that those who ofiettiiatuly refuse to J give up abuses, will inevitably be celled up ' on to Marremter uses.
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