THE STAR OP THE NORTH. n, 11. Juikj, Proprietor.] VOLUME 10. THE STAR OF THE NORTH IS PUBLISHED KVKRR WNDNKBDAY V W.H. H. JACOBY, Office on Main St., 3rd Square below Market, TERMS Two Dollars per annum if paid within nix months from tho time of subscribing; two dollars nnd fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription recoived for a less period than six taonths; no discontinuance permitted until all ar- I rearages are paid, unless at toe option of the editor. 1 ADVERTISING : —Tho rates of advertising will bo aa follows : One squaro of twclvo lines, three times, - - $ 1 00 Every subsequent insertion, 25 One square, three months, ......... 800 Six months, 5 00 One yoar, .................. 8 00 Rasinoss Cards of five lines, per annum, - • 300 Choice Poetrji. TIIE 10YE KNOT. BY KOBA PERRY. Tyinf} her bonnet under the chin, £he tied her raven ringlets in, But not alone in the ail ken snnre Did she catch her lovely floating hair, For, tying her bonnet under her ohin, £ho tied a young man'a heart within. They wore strolling together up the hill, JVhero the wind comes blowing morry nnd chill; And it blew the curls a frolicsome race, All over the happy peach-colored face, gill, scolding and laughing, she tied them in, Under hor beautiful dimpled chin. And it blow a color, bright as the bloom Of the pinkost fusohia's tossing plume, All over Iho checks of the prettiest girl That ever imprisoned a romping curt, Or, in tying her bonnet undor her chin. Tied a young man's heart within. Steeper and steeper grew tho hill- Madder, merrier, chillier still Tho western wind blow down and played The wildest trick with tho little maid, As tying her bonnet under her chin, Bho tied a young man's heart within. Oh, western wind do you think it was fair, To play such tricks with her Buft floating hair 7 To gladly, gleefully do your best To blow nor against tho young man's breast, "When ho as gladly foidod her in, And kissed her mouth and dimpled ohin ? Oh, Ellery Vano, you littlo thought, An hour ago when you besought This oouutry lass to walk with you, After tho sun had dried tho dew, "What perilous danger you'd bo in, As she tiod her bonnet under her chin. JONATHAN'S SHEEP. —Soma years ago, a tall lank, eastern Jonathan was traveling through the western country, endeavoring to dispose of his notions, and happened to put up at a 1 tavern kept by a worthy old Dutchman, with whom, as is usually the case, the neigh boring farmers generally spent their even ings. There happened, at this time, to be an unusual number of them assembled to gether, and their conversation naturally turned to occupations, the principal; topics being fafeattle, hogs, sheep, &c. At i length a guessing at their weight. Jonathan beitig of a social turn, anc! not relishing a subject which he was unable to engage in, determined to put a stop to (heir gossiping, and adopted ihe following method. He thrust his lantern visage over the shoulders of an honest yeoman, saying that he guessed as how he could tell a story about father's sheep which would beat their's all hollow. They all turned a listening ear to the story. After giving his chair a hitch or two, to J come within the ring around the fire, he J commenced by saying his father had one of the largest sheep he over saw; he put him in a yard and fed him one month OB hay, in which time he ate up a whole ton; he then put him in a stable, and led him a month on oats; and the tarnal critter eat twenty kushels; jn two weeks more he fed him eight bushels of injen meal, and the day be- j fore Thanksgiving he killed him. How much, said he, streching himself up, how ! much bo you guess ho weighed) From the enormous quantities eaten by the sheep,' and the length of timo it had been kept, each supposed him an enormous sheep; the ' guess went round, each one guessed a large weight. Still Jonathan said nothing. At length, one of them, encouraged by the pleasant twinkling in the Yankee's eye, ventured to ask him how much he did weigh; when, raising his seven feet figure, and lengthening out his voice, he answered:— "I'll be darned if I know." The joke took—an explosion of laughter followed—and the subject of conversation was changed. SiCNATunE OP THE CROSS. —The mark which persons who are unable to write are required to make instead of their signature, is in the form of a cross (f;) and this prac tice having formerly bfion followed by kings and nobles, is constantly referred to as in stance of deplorable ignorance of ancient times. This signature is not, however, invariable a proof of such ignorance ; an* ciently the use of this mark was not confin ed to illiterate persons; for, amongst the Saxons the mark of the cross, as an attesta tion of the good faith of persons signing, was required to be attached to the signaturo of those who could write, as well as to stand in the place of those who could not write. In these times, if a man could write, or read, his knowledge was in holy orders. Tho word clericui or dak, was synonymous with penman; and the laity, or people who were not clerks, did not feql any urgent necessity for the use of letters. The ancient use of the cross was, therefore, univesal, alike by thoso who could not write; it was the sym bol of an oath, from its holy associations, and generally the mark. On this account of the expression of "God save the mark," donotes a form of ejaculation approaching to the character of an oath. Cy Two weavers working in one shop in the village of Houston, were conversing one day upon authorship, when one of them ob served that the man Finis was a great author; ho had seen thnt writer's name attached to a great many books. "Yon must bo a stnpid blockhead," repli ed the other; "that man Finis is Ute^rinter. BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY. PA., WEDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 17. 1858. From the Evtnivg Argu.i. (PhtTa.) The Fonition of the President. The factious and disorganizing spirit which prevails at the present day, to an ex tent truly alarming for the peace and har mony of the Union, which has even per vaded the centre ranks of the Democratic party, and shaken its hitherto impregnable bulwarks, finds one statesman firm and undismayed, whose ripe judgment, unclou ded vision, unsullied patriotism, and in domitable will, fit him pre-eminently for the post he occupies. Calm, clear, and confident, he stands at the helm of State, and blanches not at the mutterings of the storm ; high-aims, and noble purposes, en dow him with a courage equal to the emer gency, which not only nerves his own soul for the duties of his station, but inspires trust, and a sense of safety, in those who would otherwise despond. Thousands of honest and patriotic hearts now rejoice, as will millions hereafter, that in this dark hour for the Republic, this trial, as it were, for national existence, the Executive Chair is filled by a statesman so wise and firm, a patriot sb true and devoted, as James Bu chanan? With a determination to fulfill, to the letter, his duties under the Constitution, and his oath of office, which nothing can shake, he has nobly disregarded all extran eous influences, and collateral issues, and guided by a spirit of truth and justice, he pursues, amid cavils and bickerings, the open r.nd even tenor of his way, mindful only of the right, trusting only to God, and his own conscience, for justification and re ward. Who can read those noble words, in the concluding portion of his message accompanying the Lecomplon Constitution, and not feel an exalted admiration and re spect for the MAN. He says : " 1 have thus performed my duty on this important question, under a deep sense of my responsibility to God and iny country. My public life will terminate within a brief period, and I have no other object of earthly ambition than to leave my country in a peaceful, prosperous condition, and live in the affections and respect of my country men." And who can read that message, in our judgment unanswerable in its positions and argument, without acknowledging the hon esty and truthfulness of every sentiment uttered, even though he be so jaundiced by opposing interests and views as to be unable to appreciate its conclusions? With what power Aes lie scatter to tho wiml iho hog mas of Douglas, nnd th£ fino-spu.l theories of Walker, wielding with the skillful hand of a master the very weapons of the latter to overthrow and confound him! It is true that in regard to this perplexing question " the end is not yet," hut notwith standing the alarm it has created, we almost deem the occasion providential which has enabled Mr. Buchanan to stand forth as the champion and defender of the representa tive principle in our government, the key to the preservation of order and harmony, the only element which can save us from con fusion and anarchy. A true friend to "pop ular sovereignty," he would preserve the rights of the people by inculcating obedi ence to the laws. He says: " The sacred principle of popular sover eignty has been invoked in favor of the en emies of law and order in Kansas. But in what manner is popular sovereignty to bo exercised in this country, if not through tho instrumentality of established laws. In certain small republics of ancient times, people did assemble in primary meetings, passed laws, and directed public affairs In our country, this is manifestly impossi ble. Popular sovereignty can be exercised here only through the ballot-box, and if the people will refuse to exercise it, in this manner, as they have done in Kansas at the election of delegates, it is not for them to complain that their rights have been viola ted." If every irregular ebullution of popular feeling, exerted and pandered to by dema gogues, for base and selfish purposes, is to be taken as the voice of the people, and to control' or aorogate acts and ordinances passed and established in a legal manner, by constitutional authority, then indeed may we bid farewell to liberty with its attendant blessings, and prepare for the reign of an archy and tyranny in its worst form. Is it because Mr. Buchanan has been en abled to look beyond the mere questions of temporary expediency which surround this question, because his stand is more eleva ted, and his vision more extended, that he sees the consequences hereafter of the vio lation, and probable destruction of the rep resentative principle, as far more disastrous to the whole country, and to our republican institutions, than any wrong which the ad mission of Kansas under the Lec.otnpton Constitution can possibly inflict. It is in the character of a statesman whose far reaching vision pierces the future, and pre pares events which shape for good or evil the destiny of nations, and not in that of a mere politician, whose excited hopes and lust of office blinds him to all but present success, that James Buchanan appears now before his countrymen and the world ; and whatever may be the issue ot iho present contest, his truth and wisdom will assuredly bo vindicated and confessed. We will scarcely permit ourselves to believe otherwise, then, that success must attend his noble efforts in behalf of law, or der and our republican institutions, but that the triumph of his views and principles will be ultimate and complete, we no more doubt than we do the benevolent purposes of Di vino Providonco in behalf of the liberties and happiness of our people ! 51 (Shrilling sUt)entnre. TIIE ROBBER OF THE WABASH. In the summer of 1832. I was engaged with a young man named Lyman Kemp, in locating land lots along the Wabash, in Indiana. I had gone out partly for my health and partly to accommodate one who had ever been a noble friend to me, who had purchased a great deal of government land. At Davenport'hc was taken sick, and after watching him a week, in hopes that he would soon recover, I found that he had a settled fever; and, as the physician said he would not be able to move on under a month, I determined to push on alone. So 1 obtained a good nurse, and, having seen that my friend would have everything nec essary to his comfort, which money could procure, 1 left him. As good fottuno would have it, I found a party of six men bound on the very route that I was going, and I waited one day for the sake of their company. At length we sot out, with three pack-horses to carry our luggage, and I soon found I lost nothing by wailing, for my companions were agreeable and entertaining. They were going to St. Joseph, where they had land already loca ted, and where they had mills upon the river intending to get out lumber the re mainder of the season. On the third day from Logansport wo reached Walton's Settlement, on Little ltiv er—having left the Wabash on the morning of that day. It was well on into the even ing when we reached the little log built inn of the settlement, and we were glad enough of the shelter, for, ere we were fairly under cover, the rain commenced to fall in great drops, and thickly, too. And more still I had to be thankful, for my horse began to show a lameless in one of his hind legs, and when I leaped from the saddle, I found that his foot pained him very much, as I could tell by the manner in which ho lifted it from the ground. I ordered the ostler to bathe it with cold water, and then went in to the house, where we found a good sub stantial supper, and comfortable quarters for tho night—that is, comfortable quarters for that country at that timo. About ten o'clock, just after I had retired, and just as I was falling into a grateful drowse, I was startled by the shouts of men and barking of dogs, directly under my window. As the noise continued, I arose, threw on my clothes, and went down.— "What is u %" I asked of the landlord, who stood in the en try-way. "Ah ! don't you know, stranger ?" said the host, returning, "You've heard of Gustus Karl, perhaps ?" Who, in the west, at that time, had not heard of him!—the most reckless, daring, and murderous robber that ever cursed a country. 1 told the host that 1 had heard of him often. "Well," ho resumed, "th 3 infernal villain was here only this afternoon, aud murdered and robbed a man just up the river. We've been out after him; but ho's gin us the slip. We tracked kirn as far as the upper creek, and there he came out on the bank, fired at us, and killed, one of our horses, and theu drove into the woods. We 6et the dogs on, but they lost hira." " And you've come back horseless," I said. "Yies," the landlord growled. "But," lie added, with a knowing shake of his head, "ho can't run clear much longer. The country is in arms, and he'll either leave these huntins or be dropped." "What sort of a man is he?" I asked.— "The very last man in the world you would take for Gus Karl. He is small—not a bit over five feet six; with light curly hair, a smooth while face, and not very stout.— But, Lord love ye, he's quick as lightning, and his eye's got fire in it. He dresses in all sor<s of shapes, but generally like a common hunter. Oho! he's the very devil, I do believe." After the .tub full of whiskey and water which the host had provided, was all drank, the crowd began to disperse, and shortly afterwards 1 went up again to bed: this time I slept on uninterrupted till morning. 1 had just eaten my breakfast, and had gone out to the front door, when a horse man came dashing up to the place, himself and animal all covered with mud. It had been raining all night.' The first thing the new comer did was to inquire for mo. I answered at once to the name, and he ihen informed ine that Lyman Kemp could not live, and he wished to see me as Boon as possible. "The doctor says he must die," said the messenger, "and the poor follow now only asks for life long enough to see you." "Poor Lyman !" 1 murmured to myself.— "So young, so hopeful, with so many friends and fond relatives in his laroffhome—and taken down to die in a strange land." I I told the man 1 would set out on my return as quick as possible. He ato some break fast and resumed his journey, being bound as far up as the Pottawattemie border. 1 settled my bill, and then sent for my horse; but a bitter disappointment awaited me. I found the animal's foot swollen very badly, and it pained him so he could hardly step upon it. Had the road been good I should have been tempted to try him; but I knew that in somo places the mud would be deep. 1 went to the host and asked him if he .could lend or sell mo a horse. He could do neither. His only spare horse had been shot by the Wabash robber. There was not a horse in the place to be obtained for any amount of money. I returned to the stable and let out my horse, but ho could not even walk with any degroo of Troth and RlKht Cooutry. ease. 1 could not use him. I was in de spair. "Look'o," said mine host, as I began to despond, "can't you manage a canoe " "Yes—very well," I told him. "Then that's your best way. The cur rent is strong this morning, and without a j stroke of the paddle, 'twould take you along ! as fast as a horse could wade through the mud. • You shall have one of my canoes for just what it is ■SvorlM? and ye can sell it again at Logansport for as much." 1 caught the proposition, instantly, for I saw it was a good one. "If you daren't shoot the rapids," added the landlord, "ye can easily 'shoulder the canoe, and pack it around. 'Tisn't far." I found the boat to be a well fashioned "dugout," large to A, four men with ease, and at once paid'.'the'owner the price—ten dollars —and then had lug gage brought down. I gave directions a bont the treatment of my horse, and then put off. Tho current was quite rapid—say four or five miles an hour—but not at all turbulent, and I soon made up my'mind that it was far better than riding on horse back. The banks of the river were thickly covered with largo trees, and 1 saw game in plenty, and more than once I was tempt ed to fire the contents of my pistols at the boldest of the "varmints," but I had no ' time, so I kept on. Only "one thing seemed I wanting, and that was a companion, but I ! was destined to find one soon enough. It was shortly after noon, and I had eaten my dinner of bread and cold meat, when I came to a place where tho river made an abrupt bend to the right, and a little further ou I came to an abrupt basin where the current formod a perfect whirlpool. I did not notice it until my canoe got into it, and found myself going round instead of going ahead. I plied my wood patldle with all toy power, and soon succeeded in shoot ing out from the current; but, in doing so, ran myself upon the low sandy shore. The effort }iad fatigned me not a little, and as I fotitul myself thus suddenly moored, I re solved to rest a few minutes. I had been in this position some ten min utes when I was startled by hearing a foot fall close by me, and on looking tip I saw j a man at that side of my boat. He was a j young looking person, not over two aud j thirty, and seemed to be a hunter. He wore ; a wolf-skin shirt, leggias of red leather, and a cap of bear-skin. "Which way arc yon bound, stanger)" ho rskct in a ple-.r-irg "Down the river U> I re- ' plied. "That's fortunate. I wish to go there my- j 6clf," the stranger resumed. "What say you to my taking tho and keeping you company." "I should like it," I told him frankly; 'l've been wanting company." "So have I," added the hunter. "And I've been wanting some belter mode of con- • voyance than those worn out legs through j the deep forest." "Come on," I said; and as I spoke, he j leaped into the canoe, and having deposit- I ed his rifle in the bow, he took one of the paddles and told ine he was ready when I was. So he pushed off, and were soon clear of the whirlpool. For an hour we conversed freely. The stranger told me his name was Adams, and that his father lived in Columbus. He was out on a hunting and exploring expedition with some companions, who had gone on to Logansport by horse, and having got separated from them in the night, and had lost his liorso into the bargain. He said that he had a great sum of money about his person, and that was one reason why he disliked to travel in the forest. Thus he opened his affairs to me, and 1 was fool enough to be equally frank, I ad mitted that I had some money, and told him my business, and by a most unpresuming course of remark, ho drew from me the fact that I had money enough to purchase forty full lots. Finally ihe conversation lagged, and I began to give my companion a closer scru tiny. I sat in the stern of the canoe, and he was about midships, and facing me.— His hair was of a light, hue, and hung in long curls about his neck; his fea tures were regular and handsome; and his complexion very light. But the color of his face was not what one could call fair. It was a cold, bloodless color, like pale mar ble. And for the first time too, I now look ed particularly at his eyes. They were grey in color, and had the brilliancy of glaring ice. Their light was intense, but cold and glittering like a snake's. When I thought of his age I set him down for not much over thirty. Suddenly a sharp, cold shudder ran through my frame, and my heart leaped with a wild thrill. As sure as fate—l knew it—there could be no doubt—l had taken into my canoe, and into my confidence, Gustus Karl, the Wabash Robber. For a few moments 1 feared my emotions would betray me. I looked carpfully over his per son again, and I knew I was not mistaken. I could look back now and see how cun ningly he had led mo on to a confession of my circumstances—how ho had made me tell my affairs, and reveal the state of my finances. What a fool I bad been! But it was too late to think of the past. I had enough to do to look out for what was evi dently to come. 1 at length managed to over come all my outward emotions, more sharply and closely. My pistols were both handy, and I knew they were in order, for 1 had examined them both in the forenoon, when 1 thought of firing at some game. They were in the breast pockets of my coat, which pockets had been made on purpose for them, and I could reach them at any inslant. Another hour passed away, and by that time I had tiecome assured that Iho robber would mako no attempt upon me until after nightfall. He said that it would be convenient that we were together, for we could run all night, as one could steer the canoe while the other slept. " Ay," I added, with a smile; "that is good for me, for every hour is valuable.— I would not miss meeting my friend for the world." " Oh, you'll meet him never fear/" said my companion. Ah! he spokp that-, with a meaning. I understood it well. I knew what that sly tone, and that strange gleaming of the eye meant. He meant that he would put me on the road to meet poor Kemp in the other world! I wondered only now that I had not detected the robber when 1 first saw him, for tho expression of his face was so heartless, so icy—and then his eyes ltad such a wicked look—that the most unprae ticed physiognomist could not have failed to delect the villian at one#. During the rest of tho afternoon we con versed some, but not so freely as before I could see that the villain's eyes were not so frankly bent upon mine as ho spoke, and then he seemed inclined to avoid my direct glances. These movements on his part were not studied, or even intentional; but they were instinctive, as though his very nature led him thus. At length night came on. VVe ate our supper, and then smoked our pipes, and finally my companion pro posed that I should sleep before he did At first I thought of objecting, but a few minutes reflection told me that I had belter behave as though he were an honost man : so I agreed to his proposition. He took my seat at the stern, and I moved further for ward and having removed the thwart upon which my companion had been silting, 1 spread my cloak in the bottom- of tho ca noe, and then having placed my valise for a pillow, I lay down. As soon as possible 1 drew out one of my pistols, and under the cover of a cough, I cocked it. Then I moved my body so that my right arm would be at liberty, and grasping my weapon firmly, with my finger on the guard, I drew up my mantle, slouched my hat, and then settled down for my watch. Fortunately for me the moon was up, anil though the forest threw a shadow upon me, yet the beams fell upon Karl, and I could see his every moment. We were well into the Wabash, having entered it about three o'clock. " You will call me at midnight." I eaid drowsily. " Yes," he returned. " Good night." " Good night—and pleasant dreams. I'll have you further on your way than you think ere you wake up again." " Perhaps so," thought I to myself, as I lowered my head, and pretended to lower myself to sleep. For half an hour my companion steered the canoe very well, and seemed to take but little notice of me; but at the end of that time I could see that ho became more uneasy. I commenced to snore with a long, regularly-drawn breath, and on the instant the villain started as starts the hunter when he hears the tread of game in the woods. But hark! Aha—there was before one lingering fear in my mind that I might shoot the wrong man ; but it was gone now. As tho fellow stopped the motion of the paddle, I distinctly heard him mutter: " O-ho, my dear sheep—you little dream ed that Gus Karl was your companion. But he'll do you a good turn. If your friend is dead, you shall follow him, and take your traps to pay your passage to heaven !" I think these were the very words. At any rate, they were their drift. As he thus spoke he noiselessly drew in Ihe paddle, and rose to his feet. I saw him reach up over his left shoulder, and when he brought back his hand, he had a huge bowie-knife in it. 1 could see the blade gleam in the pale moonlight, and I saw Karl run his thumb along the edge, and then ieel the point! My heart beat fearfully, and my breathing was hard. It was with the utmost exertion that I could continue my snoring, but 1 managed to do it without interruption. Slowly and noiselessly the foul wretch pro ceeded to approach me. Oh! his step would not have awakened a hound—and his long, gleaming knile was half raised.— I could hear tho grating of his teeth as he nerved himself for the stroke. The villain was by my side, and measured tho distance from his hand to my heart with his eye. In his left hand he held a thick handkerchief all wadded up. That was to stop my mouth with. Kvery nerve in my body was now strung, and my heart still as death. Of course my snoring ceased, and at that instant the huge knife was raised above my bosom! Quick as thought I brought my pistol up—the muzzle was within a foot of the robber's heart—he mut tered a quick cry—l saw the bright blade quiver in the moonlight, but it came not upon me. I pulled the trigger, and the last fear was past. I had thought that the weap on might miss fire, but it did not. There was a sharp report, and as I sprang up and backed, 1 heard a fierce yell, and at the same time the robber fell forward, his head striking my knee as it came down. Weak and faint I sank back, but a sud den tip of the canoe brought me to my sen ses, and went aft and took the paddle. As soon as the boat's head was once more right 1 turned my eyes upon the form in the bottom of the canoe, and then 1 saw it quiver—only a slight spasmodic movement —and then all was still. All that night 1 sat there at my watch ttntl stcored my little bark. I had my second pistol ready, for I knew not surely that the wretch was dead. He might be waiting to catch me off my guard, and then shoot me. But die night passed slowly and drearily away, and when the morning broke the form had not moved. Then 1 stepped for ward and found that Gustus Karl was dead! He had fallen with his knife true to its aim, for it struck very near the spot where my heart must have been, and the point was driven so far into the solid wood that I had to pull it out, and harder still to unclasp the marble fingers that were closed with dying madness about the handle. Swiftly flowed the tide, and ere the sun again sank to rest I had reached Logans port. The authorities knew the face of Gustus Karl at once, and when I had told them my story, they poured out a thousand thanks upon my head. A purse was raised; and the offered reward put wifh it, and ten dered to me. I took the simple reward from the generous citizens, while the remainder I directed should be distributed among those who had suffered most fyim the Wa bash robber's depradations. I found Kemp 6ick and miserable. He was burning with fever, and the doctors had shut liim up in a room where a well man must soon have suffocated. "Water—water! In God's name, give me water!" he gasped. " Haven't you had any?" I asked. He told me no. I threw open the win dows, sent for a pail of ice-water, and was on the point of administering it when the old doctor came in. He held up his hands in horror, and told me it would kill the sick man. But I forced him back and Kemp drank the grateful beverage. He drank deep ly and then slept. The perspiration poured from him like rain, and when he awoke, the skin was moist, and the fever was turn ed. In eight days he sat in his saddle by my side, and started for Little River. At Walton's settlement I found my horse whol ly recovered, and when I offered to pay for his keeping the host would lake nothing.— The story of my adventure on the river had reached there ahead of me, and this was the landlord's gratitude. NEW DODGE —We often read of dodges perpetrated by bad men'in cities father north than New Orleans, for tho purpose of procuring or disposing of goods, which make us laugh; but we know of one of our res taurants, we must tell. One of the many late arrivals in tho city who came here "hard up" was invited, not ceremoniously, to leave his boarding house because he did not pay up, and was compelled to get his dinner by his wits—and he succeeded. Mr. Hardup walked into an eating house and grandly ordered a plate of gumbo, and of course devoured it—or most of it with a good appetite. When nearly through, he discovered a piece of yellew soap at the bottom, and with and air of disgust & injur ed appetite, he called the waiter and asked him if that was a componant part of gumbo! Waiter was surprised—indignant at the cook and said no— but Mr Hardup would be angry, and demanded, "How much to pay?" Waiter said "nothing," ot course. Hardup departed rejoicing in utility of soap. He had put the lump in his soup, himself, previous to eating it all. May he never be called Hardup again—or be so. BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATION OF LlFE. —Bishop Heber, upon departing for India, said in his farewell sermon:— "Life bears us on like the stream of a mighty river. Our boat first goes down the mighty channel—through the playful mur muring of the little brook, and the willows upon its glassy borders. The trees shed I their blossoms over our young heads, the flowers on the brink seem to offer them- j selves to our young hands; we are happy in hope and grasped at the beauties arouud us; but the stream hurries on, and still our hands are empty. Our course in youth and manhood is along a wider, deeper flood, and amid objects more striking and mag nificent. We are animated by the moving picture of enjoyment aud industry passing us; we are excited by our short-lived en joyments. The stream bears us on, and joys and griefs are left behind us. We may be shipwrecked, but we cannot be delayed— for rough or smooth, the river hastens to wards its home, till the roar of the ocean is in our ears, and the waves beneath our feet, and the floods are lifted up around us, and we take leave of the earth and its inhabi tants, until of further voyage thore is is no witness save the Infinite and Eternal. EF On Thursday afternoon a young lady and gentleman skated from Bangor to Hamp den, Maine, on a trial of speed. The Whig says: "The young gentleman had tho longest legs, but the lady spread the most canvas, and tho wind being fair and fresh , she beat htm by two minutes and a half, and the feat was performed in half an hour. So exhausted were the parties, however, and so strong the head wind 10 skate back, that they were brought to the city in a carriage." EF" A bit of a wag was driving in his phmton, when somebody who thought ho knew him accosted him with, "I believe your name's Smith." "Then you'd believe anything," was the reply. , [Two Dollars per Annua. NUMBER G. CONFIDENCE AND CREDIT. The day was dark, the markets dull, The 'Change was thin, gazettes were full, And half the town was breaking. The countersign of cash was 'Stop,' Bankers and bankrupts shut up shop, And honest hearts were aching. When near the 'Change, my fancy spied A faded form, with hasty stride. Beneath griefs burthen stooping; Her name was Credit, and she said, Her father Trade, was lately dead, Her mother, Commerce, drooping. The smile that she was wont to wear Was withered by the hand of care, Her eyes has lost their lustre: Her character was gone, she said. For basely she had been betrayed, And nobody would trust her. That honest Industry had tried To gain fuir Credit lor his bride, And found the lady willing ; But, ah ! a fortune hunter camo, And Speculatian was nis name, A rake not worth a shilling. The villian was on mischief bent; He sained both dad and mam's consent, And then poor Credit smarted. He filched her fortune and her fame, Ho fixed a blot upon her name, | And left her broken hartcd. While thus poor Credit seemed to sigh, Her cousin, Confidence, came by, (Methinks he must be clever;) For When lie whispered in her ear, She checked die sigh, she dried the tear, And smiled as sweet as ever. "LITTLE JOKERS. ry A Clergyman observing a poor man by the roadside breaking stones with a pick axe, and kneeling to get at his work belter, made the remark—"Ah, John, I wish I Could break the stony hearts of my hearers as easily as you are breaking those stones " The man replied—"Perhaps, sir, you do not work on yottr knees." tyTwo Irishmen happened to get into an affray, in which one of them was knock ed down. Ilis comrad ran up to him and cried out: "Zounds, Dennis an if you bo dead can't you spoke I" "I'm not dead, but spacheless,,' said tho other. f "What do yon think of whiskey, Dr. Johnson ?" hiccopped Boswell, after empty ing a sixth tumbler of toddy. "Sir," said the doctor, "it penetrates my soul like tho still small voice of conscience, and doubtless the worm of the still is tho worm that never dies." u' An Impertinent Editor in Alabama (says the Louisville Journal,') wants to know when we intend to pay "the debt of nature." We are inclined lo think that when nature gets her dues from him it will be an execu tion. tJT The Spirit of Daniel Webster was cal led up lately in a spiritual circle in North ampton, Mass. He confessed he had made many mistakes in his social and political life while on earth, and in his Dictioniry. " Wo lately Heard a vulgar politician boast upon the stump, that he and Daniel Webster once staid over night at die samo public house. It must have been a house of "entertainment for man and beast." If Our Government Land costs one dol lar an acre on an average ; champagne two dollars a bottle. How many a man dies landless, who, during his lile has swallowed a whole township, trees and all. W Chemical Facts Familiarized. I thaa been discovered that bread can be manufac tured out ol wood. Long before this dis covery was made, all wood was known to have grain in it. t V Why can a person cook eggs sooner in England than in America? Because in England all that he has to do is to steal them, and they immediately become poach ed. BT"Well Pat, Jimmy didn't quite kill you with a brickbat, did he 1" "No, but I wish he had," "What for?" "So I could see him hung, the villen !" CF" Teacher—"William, can you toll ma why the sun rises in the east?" I'upii look ing demure—"Don't know, sir, 'cept it bo that east makes everything rise." ur "Is that clock rite over there?" asked a visitor the other day. "Rite over there?" said the boy; "tain nowhere else." ry "Boy what's become of the hole I saw in your pants the other day ?" (Young America, carefully examining his unmentionables.) "Its worn out, sir." Ey An Old Scotch Preacher said of a young opponent that he had a grerat deal of the young man, not a little of the old man, very little of the new man. ty Why does a lady with immensely woalthy lovers around her hear more music than anybody else ? Because she hears several millionaires at once. BT Ai a Colored Ball, the following notice was posted on the door post"Tickets fifty con's. No geroraan admitted unless he comes himsolf." QT Who aro the most wicked peoplo in church on Sunday. The organist and bel lows-boy; for ono plays, and tho other blows it. BT An Irishman tells of a fight in which there was but ono whole nose left in tho crowd, "and that belonged to tho ta-kettlo!" I A MUFF.—A thing that holds a young lady's hand without squeezing it.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers