THE STAR OF THE NORTH. IT, If. jacby, rrtfridir.] VOLUME 10. OOAIB rmtiDn BVEHY wsbmiDAT IT WM. H. JAI'OBY, Offirt on Main St., 3rd Sqmrt below Market, TERMS Two Dollars tor annum if paid within lx months from the time or subscribing; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription received for a less period than six „toonth§; no discontinuance permitted until all ar rearages are paid, unless at the option of the editor. ADVERTISING Tho rates of advertising wilt .be as follows: One squaro of twelve lines, three times, • - $1 00 .Every subsequent insertion, - 25 Ono square, three months, -.- ••••• 300 Six months, 500 One year. - - •• • • 800 Business Cards of five lines, per annum, - • 300 OR I GIN A LP O ET R Y. TOE DYING CHRISTIAN. DT LILLUFF. •Tis evening's calm and sacred hour, I feel the sweet, the maggic power, Of unseen spirits hovering near— Spirits from ft heavenly spnere — • From round tho great white throne they come To guide my woary spirit home. Tho world is fair, and bright, and gay, Flowers aro blooming round my way; Fond friends surround wcre'er I roam, Boar are the sweet delights of homo. Earth's choicest treasures bid mo. stay, Vet gladly would I wing my way— From earth, with all its joys ana pains, To heaven whero my Redeemer reigns. 'Tis hard to sever each fond tie, And thus, in life gay morn, to dio, Earth's pleasures tempt us, but alas! They're transient—asa flash they pass, Like mist, they hover round us, noar, Wo grasp thorn—and they disappear- The woalth of earth was never given To draw our souls away from Hoavon, But lent us, while below we dwell, To use, but not to love too well. Then let us fix our hopes, our love, On things abiding, things above, That when from earth we're called to part, We'll meet death with a willing heart. My breath grows short, my pnlse is low, My fluttering spirit soon must go, Will soon be free from pain and eare, In heavenly glory soon will share. With faith, to heaven I lift my eye, And calmly breathe my parting sigh, May the stone that marks my ashes, tell The passer by, that (< All is well." BUCK IIORN, March 1858. Major Brown's Coon Story. u 1 was down on the crick this morning," said Bill Gates, "and 1 seed any amount of coon tracks. 1 think tht.ri agoin' to be pow erful plenty this season." " Oh, yes," replied Tom Coker, "I never hearn tell of the like before. The whole woods is lined with 'em. If the skins is only a good price this season, I'll be worth somethin' in the spring, sure's you live, for I've jest got one of the be6t coon dogs in all Illinois." " You say you never heam tell o' the like o' the coons 1" Put in Major Brown, an old veteran who had been chewing tobacco in silence for the last ball'hour, "Why you don't know ennything 'bout 'em! If you'd a come hero iorty years ago, like I did, you'd a thought coons! I jest tell you, boys, you couldn't go amiss for 'em. We hardly ever thought of pesterin' 'em much, for their skins weren't worth a darn with us— that is, we couldn't get enough for 'em to pay for the skinnin'." " I recollect one day I went out a bee huntin'. Wal, arter I'd lumbered about a good while, I got kinder tired, and so I leaned up agin a big tree to rest. 1 hadn't much more'n leaned up afore somethin' gave me one of the allliredest nips about the seat o' my briches 1 ever got in my life. 1 jumped about a rod, and lit a runnin', and kept on a runnin* for over a hundred yards, when think, sez I, it's no use runnin', and I'm snake bit, but runnin', won't do enny good. So I jest stopped and proceeded to examine the wound. I soon seed it was no snake bite, for thar's a blood-blister pinched on me about six inches long. " Think, sez I, that<ather gits me ! What in the very dence could it a bin 1 Arter tbinkin' about't awhile, I concluded to.go back, and look for the critter, jess for the curiosity o' the thing. I went to the tree and poked the weeds and stuff all about; but darned the thing could I see. Party soon 1 sees the tree has a little split a run nin' along up it, and so I gits to lookin' at that. Dreckly I sees the split open about halt an inch, and then shet up agin; then 1 sees it open and shet right along as regular as a clock a tickin'." " Think, sez I, all creation can this mean ? I know'd I d got pinched in the •plit tree, but what in thunder was makin' it do it 1 At first 1 lelt orfully scared, and thought it must be somethin' dreadful; and then again I thought it moutn't. Next I thought about hants and ghosts, nd about ruunin' home and sayin' nothin' about it; and then I thought it couldn't bo enny on 'em, for I'd never hearn tell o' them a pes terin a feller right in open daylight. At last the true blood of my ancestors riz up in niy veins, and told me it 'ud be cowardly to go home and not find out what it was; so I lumbered for my axe, and swore I'd find out all about it, or blow up. Wben I got back I let it into the treo like blazes, and pqrty soon it cum down and smashed into flinders —and what do you think 1 Why it was ram med and jammed smack full of coons from top to boltom. Yes, sir, they's rammed in so close that every time they breathed they made'the split open." Scene,—A fashionable city party—low necked dresses a prominent feature—Miss addresses her country cousin: " Coz Sam, did you ever see such a glo rious sight before 1" " Never since I was weaned," replied Sam blushing. CTA Dublin paper contains the follow ing advertisement: To Let—the upper part of a cellar—to a small family rent low. P. S. Privileges on the sidewalk for a pig. BLOOMSBURG* COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY. MARCH 31, 1858. A RACE WITH A WIDOW, " Merciful Jehosaphat and big onions, what a lime I've had with that widder.— We chartered an omnibus for two on Ghrist mas, and started. Widder said I, where we go to ? She blushed, and said she did'nt like to say. I told her she must say." " Well Jehuel, if you insist upon it and T am to have ray choice, I had rather go to church." x. " What fer, widder ?" said I. " Oh, Jehuel how can you ask me?" " Cause I want to know," said I. " YVell—(blushing redder than beef) — it is such cold weather now, and tho nights aro awful cold, and oh. Jehuel I can't stand it!" " Oh, pshaw, widder spit it out what do yon mean V The widow riled. She biled right over like a quart of mik on the fire and burst out with— " If you can't understand me, you'ro a heartless brute so you are." " Hold your horses !" said I. What's all this about? lam not a brute, nor never was, ami if a man called me that I'd boot him sure." And then biled right over, and unbutton ed my coat collar to keep me from bustin' off my buttons. The widder saw 1 was go ing to explode, or else collapse my wind pipe, and she flung her arms around my neck, put her lips to mine, I cooled right down. "Jehuel, dear!" said she, in an insinua tin' way, and a voice as sweet as a hand or gan, " Jehuel, honey 1 want to go to church to get mar—no I can't say it all, you finish the word, Jehuel, sweet." " What word, marm?" " Oh you stupid Jehuel, dear, I mean the word marriage love." "Married, widder!" said I, "did you mean that ?" " Indeed I did, Jehuel, love !" " Look here marm, my name isn't Je huel Love, nor Jehuel Dear, nor Jehucl Sweet. I'd have you know. And I won't get married to nobody but one, and you are not the she." Oh, pewter pennies, but didn't she rave ! She made one dash at me, I dodged, and she went butt up against the upper end of the omnibus. Crash went the comb, and smash went that bran new bonnet that I didn't buy for her, and down she went with her face in the straw. But in a moment 6he rose again, arid made one more dash at me. I dropped—she went over mt and butted the door of the omnibus. The strap broke and out 6ho went—her gaiter boots higher than her head as she struck the pavement. " Drive on !" I yelled to the driver. " Woman overboard !" cried a passing sailor. " Stop that White Coat—breach of prom ise—reward—Herald—published," shriek ed the widow, in tones of moral agony while tears of blood streamed from her beautiful pug nose. " Drive on ! drive on !" 1 shouted. " Where to 1" asked the driver. " To the devil—to Harlem—to Macomb's Dam—anywhere so that we escape matri mony and the widder." He started, so did the widder, and then we had it up the avenue, the bus having the start of about a hundred yards. Foot by foot the widder gained. Thinks I, Jehuel, you are a goner, 1 thought it best to lighten 6hip. So first I hove overboard the straw. Still she gained on mo. Then overboard , went the cushions. But still she gained. More team, driver, for mercy's sake more team !" I yelled. " We arc going faster than the law allows now," he answered." Thirteen miles an hour." Jehosaphat how the widder run ; she hove off her bonnet and camo up hand over hand. A thought struck me, and so I off my coat and flung it right down iu her path. She sprang on it like a panther, and tore it to pieces. Oh how they flew. 1 wept to seo it go, but lile is sweeter than a coat, and my tailor is making mo a new one. Hero we gained full two hundred yards, but on she came again. Once more 1 could see the green in her eyes—merciful Moses, how I felt. " Drive," said I, " kill them horses or get another mile out of them." " Will you pay for them 1" he said. "Yes, yes," said I, " only Bave me from the widder." By cracky wo did slide ; the widder no longer gained, but held her own beautifully. Thus we had it—out past the Red House— through Harlem—where Capt. Graham at tempted to catch us. he probably supposing that we were running away with some bank fund. My only hope was reaching Degroot's ahead of her, for I knew they would hide me. We were on the bridge, and, oh, Mo ses, the draw was up, and a sloop going through. " Driver," said I, "jump that bridge and I'll make your fortune for life, sure as you're born.'*' " I'll do it or dio !" he cried. And he did it. The widder jumped after us, tell into the Harlem river, and hasn't been heard of since. XW Some poetaster wrote the following for the Hartford Review, but it almost killed him Long is the moon That brings no eve ; Tall is the com That no cob leaves; Blue is the sky That never looks yeller; Hard is the apple That never grows meller; But longer and bluer and harder and tall, Is my lady love—my adorable Poll. "IF I WERE A MAN." Don'tl wish that I were aman ! Wouldn't I set tlic beaver-batted population an exam ple of brilliant perfection 1 Wouldn't I make myself generally agreeable to all the ladies, and talk to 'em as if they had souls above bonnets! What a glorious man I should make ! I wouldn't stand on the hotel steps and puff clouds of villaneous tobacco smoke in to the eyes of all the pretty girls that go past, nor spit on the pavements to spoil their lit tle shoes and injure their tempers. I wouldn't set my huge heel down on the trains of their silken dresses, to tear 'em half off; and I think—l'm not quite sure, but I thinks —l'd knock down the first brute who dared to complain of the circumfer ence of their garments! And when they come into a car or omni bus, I wouldn't stick my nose into a news paper, or look abstractedly out of the win dow, nor get up grumbling, " Always the way with women !" Not a bit of it! I'd spring up like a patent India-rubber-ball, and if the old batchelor on the right-hand side, and the spruce clerk on the left-hand side, didn't congress themselves into the smallest possible space, to make room for the crinolines, I'd know the reason why ! And then, when I get married (for to what end was I created, if not to pay the milliner's bills of some blessed little bit of womankind, j wouldn't I make a model hus band ! Do you suppose I should bother her sweet life out of her, by grumbling because a paltry button had dropped off a shirt col lar, or a string off a dickey? Do you think ! I'd explode like a camphene lamp every time 1 found a rip in my gloves ? I'd like to see myself stooping to any such little ness. I wouldn't consult the almanac every time she bought a new bonnet, to see just how many weeks she had worn the old one ; and I wouldn't snarl like a cross tiger cat whenever the coffee happened to be cold or the bcaf-steak raw, just as if 1 wanted her to abase herself in dost and ashes, and burn up her rosy little face before the kitchen ftre tvhile I sat with nry heels on the table, reading the paper in the next room. I wouldn't use profane language when she asked me to button up her sweet little gai tor-boots, or fasten her gloves, or even to carry her parcels down Broadway, on a rainy day—which last I consider to be an infalliable test of patience and meekness. I wee-K.ln't gorge myself with wine and oysters and cigars at a fashionable down town restaurant, while tny wife dined at home on cold mutton, and then look as black as an over-charged tliuddercloud, when the grocer's " little bill" came in ; I wouldn't expend a small fortune in dia mond shirt-studs, extravagant broad-cloth, and fancy canes and then mutter about "hard limes" when she ventured to ask me for half a dollar to buy check for the ba by's aprons ! And 1 rather think I'd go shopping with her too, when she hinted to that effect, in stead of inventing excuses about Smith, or Brown, or the club—aye, and pay her bills, too, without screwing up my month as if I had the cramp in my face ! And if she looked into a shop window and admired a thirty-dollar collar, I'd walk straight in and buy it for her, instead of feigning to be ab sorbed in the signs opposite, and " forget ing to hear" what she said. When I came home at night, I wouldn't make a bear of myself, behind the evening paper and answer savagely, when she tim idly asked what I was reading, " Women can't understand politics !" No, indeed ! I would read her all the anecdotes, play with the children, pull the pussy's ears, and tell her how becoming her new silk was. That's the way to keep the woman good natured, take my word for it; arid what pret tier sight is there in the world than a good humored woman 1 Mind, 1 don't ask the in corrigible old bachelors; first, because it isn't any of their business, and second, be cause they're not judges of the article. But put the question to any sensible fellow be tween the ages of eighteen and twenty-eight and see what he ll say! I'd make a point of always asking my wife's advice, before I went to vote, and doing just as she said about it—then I'd be sure to bo always right. And if any bach elor friend of miuo had the impudence to ask me to an oyster supper, without inclu ding my wile in the invitation, do yon sup pose I'd go 1 Ask my mother-in-law about that. I wouldn't go to evening parties., and flirt desperately with other ladies, and talk about "my poor, dear wife, whose ill health pre cluded her enjoyment of society," when I knew very well that she was sitting at home alone with the cat, and crying her eyes out, over one of my ragged old coats. Good gracious, what a wide field for im provement there is among the benighted sons of Adam! It puts me completely out of breath to think of half tho relorms I'd make. Oh, if I only wore a man SHIRELY. iz A young lady recently remarked that she could not understand what her brother George Henry, saw in the girls, that he liked them so well, for her part, she would not give the company of one young man for that of twenty girls. W The following question is now before the Sand Lake Debating Society. " Which do women like the best—to be hugged in a polka, or squeezed in a sleigh!" We shall issue the decision in an extra. Truth and Eight Cud M uar Country. The Tyrant Sway. BT 0. P. MORRIS. The heart that owns thy tyrant sway, What'er its hopes may be, Is like a bark that drifts away Upon a shoreless sea! No compass left to guide her on, Upon the surge she's tempest-torn— And such is life to me! And what is life when love is fled I The world, unshared by thee, I'd rather slumber with the dead, Than such a waif to-be! The bark that by no compass steers, Is lost, which way so'er she veers— And such is life to me 1 • THE STOLEN KNIFE. ' Many years ago, when,a hoy of seven or eight years thofe was d-Sr thing* which 1 longed for more than anything else, and which 1 imagined would make me supreme ly happy. It was a jaeWnife. Then I would not be obliged to borrow father's ev ery time I wished to cut a string or stick, but could whittle whenever I choose, and when ever 1 pleased. Dreams of knives, bows and arrows, boats, &c , all manufactured with the aid of that shining blade, haunted me by day attd night. It was a beautiful morning in June, that my father called me, and gave me leave, if I wished to go with him to the store. I was delighted, and taking his hand, we started. The birds sang sweetly on every bush, and everything looked so gay and beautiful, that my heart fairly leaped for joy. After our arrival at the village, and while my father was occupied in purchasing some articles in a remote part of__the store, my attention was drawn to a man who was asking the prioe of various jack-knives which lay on the counter. As this was a very interesting subject to me, 1 approached, intending only to look at them. 1 picked one up, opened it, examined it, tried the springs, felt the edge of the blades with my thumb, and thought 1 could never cease admiring their polished surface. Oh! if it were only mine, thought I, how happy I should be ! Just at this moment happening to look up, I saw that the merchant had gone to change a bill for his customer, and no one was observing me. For fear that I might be tempted to do wrong, I started to replace the knife on the counter, but an evil spirit whispered, "Put it in your pocket; quick!" Without stop ping to think of the crime or its consequen ces, 1 hurriedly slipped it into my pocket, and as Ji did.so. feu# a. sliinr.c bur-' tiittg on my cheek; but the store was rather dark, and no one noticed it, nor did the .merchant miss the knife. We soon started for home, my father giv ing me a parcel to carry. As we walked along, my thoughts continually rested on the knife, and I kept my hand iu my pocket all the time from a sort of guilty fear that it would be seen. This, together with carrying the bundle in my other hand, made it diffi cult for me to keep pace with my father.— He noticed it and gave me a lecture about walking with my hands in my pockets. Ah! how different were my thoughts then, from what they were when passing the same scenes a few hours before. The song of the birds seemed joyous no longer, but sad and sorrowful, as if chiding roe for my wick ed act. I could not look ray father in the face, for I had been broken one of God's commandments, and become a<f/u?/ As these thoughts passed through my mind, I could hardly help cry ing, but concealed my feelings, and tried to think of the good times I would have with my knife. I could hardly say anything on my way home, and my father thinking I was either tired or sick, kindly took my burden, and spoke soothingly to me, his guilty son. No sooner did we reach home, than I retreated to a safe place, behind the house, to try the stolen knife.—A had picked up a stick, and was whittling it, perfectly delighted with the sharp blade, .which gli ded through the wood almost of ffself when suddenly 1 heard the deep, sudden voice of my father, calling me by look ing up, saw him at the window directly over my head, gazing down very sorrowfully at me. Thfe stick dropped fraja my hand, and with the knife clasped iu trie other, I proceeded into the house. I saw byhislooks that my father had divined all. I lound him sitting in his arm chair, looking very pale, walked directly to his side, and in a low calm voice, he asked me where I got the knife. His gentle manner and kind tone went to my heart, and I burst into tears.— As soon as my voice would allow mo, I made a full confession. He did not flog me as some fathers would have done, but rep rimanded me in such a manner, that, while I felt truly penitent for the deed 1 loved him more than ever, and promised never, never to do the like again. In my father's com pany, I then returned to the store, and on my knees begged the merchant's pardon, and promised never again to take what was not my own. My father is long since dead; and never do I think of my first theft, without blessing the memory of him whose kn:d teachings and gentle corrections have made it, thus far in my life and forever, my last.— Moore's Rural Ncto Yorker. Ey A lady wishing%e service of a dyer, was referred to an excellent workmau.— The lady asked: •"Are you the dying man? "No ma'am, I'm a living man—but I'll die for you. lair A young lady who lately gave order to her milliner for a bonnet; said, "You are to make it plain, but at the same time smart, as 1 set in a conspicuous place in church." TOE WILD GOOSE. A DANGEROUS FEAT- Many a daring adventure had Aleck Brent in his lonely quarters by Pawah lake. Du ring Indian times it was esteemed a coura geous thing for the noted braves to lurk Aleck's cabinet and wait for the scalp ; but every such attempt proved a miscarriage, and every miscarriage cost an Indian life or two. So they learned discretion at length, and sought other war trails, wherein there was less danger. Then Aleck remained unmolested, and was allowed to grow grey-headed, and in due time to disappear altogether from the field of human action without further inter ruption. The history of this man, hermit yet hos pitable, taciturn yet full of interesting lore, is* the history of a race whose fortunate des cription immortalized Cooper. They are fading fast away, and to find them, even now, requires a journey far beyond the ultima thule of cockney travelers and city sportsmen. The reader will not complain, especially ho who loves wild romance and startling peculiarities of character have long romained fading and useless in my memor andom book. Many a daring adventure had Aleck Brent in his lonely quarters; of such was the fol lowing. The lake by which his cabin was pitched was a horrid pool; in summer the head quarters of alligators, water moccasin snakes and gar-fish ; in winter, backed by the Miss issippi river, until it frequently backed Al eck clean out of his little home and drove him to the hills. Why he lived in such an aguish spot none could say. Probably it was for the convenience of the fish, which were abundant, and to be handy to the deer and bear that came down to the lake to drink. But whatever the cause, there lived Aleck; summer and winter, for thirty years, fishing when he choose, hunting a day or two in the week—just long enough in fact to knock down a fat buck or bear—and drinking the lake water until its very slime was relished as sauce piquante to a French man. With this introduction enters the story of the Wild Goose. One rainy, bleak March clay, Aleck found, upon examination of his larder that his pro visions were out. Bread he had never cared for, and there had been so much wet weath er, that the hunter who was getting rheu matic ironi a lifo of continued exposure, had kept within doors, smoking his pipe, till the last piece of dried venison gave out. So with an ill-natured growl, he shouldered an old gun that had done him service since a boy, and took the way to his favorite deer haunts. But the deer were closely housed and did not afford him a single shot. Wear ied and wet, he took back with the uncom fortable prospect of sleeping supperless, when his eyes fell upon a large gander that had pitched into the lake some sixty yards from shore, and was swimming temptingly abont, quite regardless of his propinquity. With but little reflection Aleck leveled his piece, and had spread the bird headless upon the water, before he had time to think how he was to gel it out. The alligators were so abundant that a dog could not swim across without being picked np, and even the deer were frequent ly packed attempting a passage. But night was coming on, his canoe was a mile off at least, and it was the gander or no supper. Aleck stripped his bucksins for the at tempt. He attached his hunting knife by a throng to his neck, took a stout chunk for support and a club for defence, then boldly plunged in. The first dash nearly chilled him to the heart; but be reached ihe prize, fastened it around him, and started back.— Scarcely had he turned, however, when he was startled by a well known sound, and a glance over his shoulder assured him that an old soldier, a bull alligator, to use the expressions of the frontiers, was upon his track, length ten or fifteen feel, teeth long enough to carve him at a nip, stomach suf ficiently capacious lo hold every ounce of him, and an appetiie to match all three.— It is unnecessary to remark upon the velo city wilh which Aleck's fins were moved, following this interesting discovery. Dan ger may sometimes render men reckless, but the prospects of such on ending to his wild goose adventure only rendered Aleck swift; he had seen a (ellow hunter dissec ted at his very side when their canoe was upset, and the sight was one of unmitigated horror. The alligator struck twice to his once, and the race was a short one. Aleck tossed the bird Irom his back, and to his great satis faction the reptile stopped a moment to smell it, which slightly delay saved his life. But he had only reached the top of the bank as his pursuer thrust his ugly nose high up on the mud at his feet. His gun being al ready loaded—for when did genuine hunter fail to load before leaving hie tracks?—gave him now an advantage and an opportunity for revenge, and as the alligator, stimulated to unwonted rapacity by his long winter's fast, came on up the bank in his clumsy way, the enraged hunter, putting the muz zle of his piece into his very mouth, fired a ball down the throat he hud so narrowly escaped, a mode of operation that killed him as quick as such hardy chaps ever die. Will the reader believe me, that Aleck Brent was reckless enough to plunge again into the lake and bring out the bird—even while his enemy was floundering half dead upon the shore, and hundreds more were within the sound of his voice! The only journeys he ever made to the settlements were two each year, to the nearest store, fifty miles distant. These were for the purpose of exchanging a pack of bear skins for powder and lead. | 1 met him upon one of these excursions, and accompanied ;him home. Nothing could be more dismal than his locality, un less it was dwelling. The cabin consisted of a single room about 12 feet squaro, made of poles and covered with bark. The in terior was thickly hung round with skins, many of them large and valuable, among which I recognized those of a panther, wild cat, for, bear and deer. A fine festoon of Indian scalps gave evidence of tho barbar ous tastes contracted from so long a resi dence nigh the aborigines Amongst these,'of which lie was partic ularly proud, he pointed out the top knots of several distinguished braves. His bed was more luxuriant than the most fastidious city dame can boast, being com posed of swan feathers and swan skins dressed with the feathers on. And here through the cold wet months the old man burrowed : a string of dried venison and a few flooces of dried bear meat for his food; a gourd of lake water for .his supply of drink : his patched yet faithful rifle hard by, and the panther might scream upon his very roof pole, he cared not. The wolfs howling through ihe long nights never dis turbed his slumbers. The alligators might splash the moss lake or build their mud heaps by the very side of his walls, or bellow in rage upon the ad jacent sand bar, old Brent heard lliem not, or only heard them as the dweller in city walls hears the ordinary sounds of the thronged streets. Nothing was of interest to attract his attention, except the voice of man, and this for obvious reasons the gray hared hunter did not often hear. My visit was protracted to a week, and when I oflercd him the parting hand, a convulsive twitching of his face answered the words of thankfulness and real esteem with which I acknowledged his hospitality. And now by the side of a Camanclie war helmet, in my cabinet of curiosities, hangs the top-knot of a huge Creek warrior; slain by old Brent in his. days of youthful strife, and presented me as the highest token of esteem that he could entertain towards his fellow men. A PRIMATIV* REPUBLICAN INSTITUTION.— The Baltimore "Exchange" says that the Maryland State House at Annapolis, is a venerable structure, to which the modern improvements have not been applied. In the council chamber and immense hickory fire warms the applicants for office who are want lo approach, in fear and trembling, its temporary tenant. In the Senate cham ber below, a corresponding fire place, of the amplest dimensions, sheds its cheerful blaze upon the wisdom of the State assembled in that hall. The conscript lathers of the low er house and library, are heated by a fur nace, whilst the comptroller and court of ap. peals still cling lo open fires and hickory logs. No gas illumines the dark places in this ancient pile—but whenever night sess ions are held, hundreds of spermacetic candies, which once extinguished, though half burned, never appear again within those walls, shed their ineffectual glare upon the congregaied wisdom of the Slate. A soli tary watchman, who takes his round when he pleases, is the only guardian of this anti revolutionary edifice, and the invaluable ercords within it. FACTS FOR THS CURIOUS.—If a tallow can dle be placed in a gun and shot at a door, it will go through without sustaining injury ; and if a inuskcl ball be fired into the water, it will not only re-bou nd but be flattened as if fired against a solid substance. A mus ket may be fired through a pane of glass— making a hole the size of the ball without cracking the glass : if the glass be suspend ed by a thread it will make no difference, and the thread will not even vibrate. In tho Artie regions, when the thermom eter is below zero, person can converse more than a mile distant.—Dr. Jameson as serts that he heard every word of a sermon at a distance of two miles. A mother has been distinctly heard talking to her child accross water a mile wile wide. PoSTRY I gave her a rose—and I gave her a ring, And 1 asked her to marry mo then; But she sent them alt back—the insensible thing, And said she'd no notion of men. I told her I'd oceans of money and goods, And tried her to fright with a growl ■ But she said she was not brought up in the woods To be scared by the screech of an owl. I called her baggage and everything bad— I slighted her feature and form, 'Till at length I succeeded in getting her mad, And she raged like a sea in storm, And then in a moment I turned and smiled, And I called her my angel and all, And she fell in my arms like a wearisome child, And exclaimed— " Jf'< will maiy next fall f *ar"Toii, said an impudent wag to a conceited fop, "I know a beeutiful girl who wishes to make your acquaintance." "Devilish glad to hear it—delightful and beautiful appearance, 1 suppose, eh V "Yes, very much so. She thinks you'd make a capital playmate for her pretty little poodle dog." Excit fop, shockingly sold. WAn exchange paper says that the most dignified, glorious, ai>4 lovely work or nature is woman—the next, man— and 1 thirdly the Berkshire pig. [TWO Dollars per Annum. NUMBER 12. SPBI.VG. I What a magic word! How we delight to anticipate thy coming through the long and dreary winter months 1 We have awaited thee with anxiety. Thou art here at last.— We salute thee; we bid thee welcome.— Thou contest to infuse joy and gladness in to every heart ; thou art the harbinger of many good things in embryo ; thou coinest decked and adorned like a youthful maiden, with floral beauiies entwined about thee All nature rejoices ; the feathered songsters are glad ; they sing with sweeter notes ; they delight to bask in thy warmth ; in harmony and love they select their mates, and begin to build their nests together ; they toil and care for their young, showing all the maternal fondness that is possible for a kind and tender parent to exhibit. Shall man—.intellectual man—fail to profit by their example 1 We trust not. Thou infu ses! new life and vigor in the vegetable kingdom. Everything therein bids theo welcome, and puts on a gladsome appear ance at thy approach ; even the emerald turf is made to smile and greet thee ; even the equatic animals rejoice and sing thy praise. • Spring, iike youth, is a season of antioi ! palion. It is then that everything looks ! charming and lovely ; it is then wo should dig, piant and delve. We anticipate much, and it is well that we do, for what is life without anticipation ? In truth, it is the joy of life itself, although we often anticipate much that is never realized. Who can walk abroad on a lovely morning in May, when every tree and shrub is robed and adorned with the wedding garment of floral beauty —when the senses are greeted at every turn by vegetable odor of the most enchanting kind—when the grass itself is made to smile with joy—when the very insects are humming their notes of gladness, and greet ing spring—we say who can, and not leel his pulse beat with a quicker stroke, and his heart leap with joy, and feel gratified to the beneficent Creator for all the beauti ful and lovely things that He in his his good ness bestowed upon man, to cheer to en courage, to gladden his heart, and to bring forth grateful ■emotions that will brighten his labor in hi? journey through life ? Who can doubt that spring is an emblem of eternal joy and felicity ? We do not. We say that the man who can walk abroad and behold all these and not appreciate them in some degree.is unworthy to be called c man ; bebas a defect,in his nature that he ought to be sor ry lor. How kind of the Creator to bestow upon man so many rare gems of floral beau ty with which he may embelish, adorn, and beautify his home. What is more lovely, when one is traveling, than to see a cottago nestled among honey suckles and climbing roses? How inviting to the traveler! How it bespeaks intelligence and virtue for the inmates 1 How it denotes the abidng-placo of industry and contentment! Alas !' we are sorry to say thai in some parts of our country—even the old parts—those that have beep settled for more than two hun dred years, there is but little of this taste to ,be seen. One may ofton travel for a wholo 1 day in someofthe interior towns, and scarce ly meet with any thing better than a com mon May rose. These things ought not to bo so, and we are sure they will not long re maiu ; plenty of good examples exist in va rious parts of the country, and fashion is I fast doing its work, nothing can long with stand her sway, as it is generally irresista ble. In a few years it will be as rare to sea a cottage without honey-suckles and climb ing roses as it is now rare to see, old-fash ioned short pants and long stocks. Who would wish to live without flowers ! Where would the poet fly for his images of boauty, if they were to perish forever ? Aro they not the emblems of loveliness and inno cence, the living types of all that is pleasing and graceful? We compare young lips to the rose, and the white brow to the radiant lilly; the winning eye gathers its glow from the violet, and the sweet voice is liko a breeze kissing its way through the flow ers. We hang delicate flowers on the silk en ringlets of the young bride, and strew her path with the fragrant bells when she leaves the church. We place them around the marble face of the dead in the narrow coffin, and they become symbols of our af fectum—pleasures remembered and hopes faded, wishes flown and scones cherished the more that they can never return. Still we look to the far ofT spring in other valleys —to the eternal summer beyond the grave, when the flowers that have faded shall again bloom in starry fields, where no rude winter can intrude. They come upon us in spring, like the recollections of a dream, which hover o'er us in sleep, peopled with shad owy beauties and purple delights, fancy broidered. Sweet flowers! that bring bo fore our eyes scenes of childhood—faces re membered in youth, when love was a stran ger to himself. The mossy bank by tho wayside, where we so olten sat for hours drinking in the primrose with onreyes ; tho sheltered glen, darkly green, filled with tho perfume of violets, that shone in their in tense blue like another sky spreud upon tho earth ; the laughter of merry voices ; the sweet song of the maiden—the downcast eye, the spreading blush, tho kiss ashamed at its own sound— are all brought hack tho the memory by a flower. FIORA, HT "You have destroyed my piece of mind," said a desponding lover to a truant lass. "I can't do you much harm, John, foe 'twas an amazingly small piece you had, anyway."
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers