THE STAR OF'THE NORTH H. U. JACOBY, Proprietor.] VOLUME 11. ffl'ffivis bode srcs)issisi£ PUBLISHED EVKHY WEDNESDAY BY WM. 11. JACOBY, Office on Main St., Iril Square below Market, TERMS: —Two Dollars per annum if paiil within six mouths from the lime of subscrib ing: two dollars anil fitly cts. if not paid with in the year. No subscription taken for a less period than six months; no discontinuance permitted until all arrearages are paid, un less at the option of the editor. The terms of advertising will he as follows : Ofle square, twelve lines, three times, $1 00 Every subsequent insertion, 25 One square, tnree months 3 00 One year, 8 00 Cljoite poeltjj. SUMMER AM) WINTER. Ah! those were very pleasant days, The days we spent together, Come back through memory's golden haze, Or cloudless summer weather! That 1 may deem I've saved at least Pome fragrants from my life's scattered feast. We wandered past the shallow stream, And through the new mown hay : Each hour was like some glorious dream From Paradise astray. The scent of roses on the air Seemed part of life, which was so fair. We roamed amid the thick green wood— Through the cool, pleasant trees; And ah! this world seemed very good, Wilh-all its memories. J never saw the moon so bright As through the boughs that summer night. And now I hear the bitter rain, Sweep from the angry heaven As blindly 'gainst the window pane The withered leaves are driven; Then faint and lorn the moon appears And dim, like one who smiles through tears. That ghostly moon's uncertain light Flung o'er the guant, bare trees— The starless sorrow of the night— The wsiling of the breeze : Ah me ! it was another earth Where summer reigned in light and mirth. And love so pleasant, although brief, Was made for summer days, Departing ere the falling leaf, And autumn's mellow rays; Nor does it seem so very strange That we, like all things else, should change. Our dream has vanished as it camo; Some hours of care it snatched ; Perchance we played a dangerous game, But well the players matched ; Without reproach in either heart, We clasp cold hands, and so we part. Hints to Young Teachers. The following good hints to those who contemplate taking upon themselves the weighty responsibilities and arduous duties necessarily connected with the profession of Teaching, are from the Michigan Jourua! of Education, but we presume they will suit this locality, admirably. Try them: 1. Meet your school at the outsot, with a quiet and natural demeanor. Affect neith er stemess nor affibility. Say a few simple words to your scholars, that you hope to do them good, and will try to do the best you can for them. 2. It whispering or disorder occurs, pause at once, and do not proceed until order is restored. The mere pause is generally sufficient for this. 3. Remember that good discipline is the principal thing; without this there can be no successful leaching. 4. Govern yourself; do not fly into a pas sion ; never stamp or scold, and do not threaten or talk too much. Let a kindly interest in your pupils temper all your ac tions. 5 Have the school room kept tidy and comfortable; wash off scribbling and ink spots, and hang up maps and charts to give the room an attractive appearance. 6. Let the lessons be short but truly mas tered. Go over the same ground again and again tn reviews. No lofty superstructure can arise except on solid foundations. 7. Foster in your pupils a spirit of justice and generosity, kindness and forbearance, and reverence for truth and duty. 8. Make daily preparation for your work; the oldest and ablest teachers do this. You will be able to give clear explanations, to infuse life and spirit in your instructions. 9. Remember that your every act is close ly watched, and that example teaches more powerfully than precopt. That teacher who is a gentleman in dress and demoanor— whose language is PURC, simple and TRUTH FUL —whose deportment is gentle, graceful and kind, will awaken a respect in both pu pils and parents that will make his task easy. 10. Put yourself into communication with neighboring teachers. If there be no Teach er's Association, organize one as soon as possibly. jvft *•••' K "I say Earthquake, were you ever in love V' "Ah ! Rolfe, there you are too hard for me; I hardly know what to say about that, 1 have sometimes felt rathor queer. When I've seen some of your Kentucky gals, l'vo felt right funny—felt as il some body was drawing a briar over me. Now if you call that love, I've been in love." "Well I think yon have. Do you know anything that you would marry?" "I marry I what for? to be always toting a wife through the woods or across the, swamps, to keep some ugly red skin from taking her hair! Fool who I She'll be alt sorts of a gal who catches me,' said Earthquake, "and getting one is like taking a varmint out of a hollow ; you dont know until you have got it into your hand what sort of a thing it is." A COUNTRYMAN, who witnessed a lady lifting up her dress, exclaimed, upon be holding the numerous tiers of hoops that oncircled her petticoat in the shape of crino line. "Well, may Ibe hanged, if she ain't got a five-barred gate wrapped round hor." BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY,"?A., WEDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 2, 1859. From the N- O. Courier. Dream of nil Editor. Last night in the shortening hours thai closej the holy tide venerated by all Chris tendom, wearied with the labor of the day and week, we declined gradually from think ing into revery, and from that into a ''doz ing," and from dozing into sleep—sleep in our chair—sleep under gas light—sleep with "papers to the right of us and papers to the left of us"—sleep in our room where we are generally pretty wide awake. We dreamed : (we are not accustomed to nar rate our dreams, but this was a Christmas dream,) and in our dream were renewed all the joyous and jolly sights and sounds of all the Christmas days of our life. Abound less contiguity of pretty children in new dresses and with handsome toys, merry, dancing and musical; a thousand orphans made glad with the gifts of charity; a thou sand peals of bells ringing out with the mu sic of rejoicing ; an army of inebriate youths celebratiug in revelry the advent of the Sa viour and at the same time forcibly illustra ting their great need of salvation ; a sad diu of pistols and firecrackers; millions of danc ers chasing the glowing hours with winged feet; floating Ministers of Pleasure in beau tiful forms such as painters dream of but never put on canvass; groups of laughing Elves clustering among the branches of gol den trees which had a bottle of choice champagne hanging on every twig, the air bearing on all its undulations enchanting tones of flutes, organs and singing voices; gems and pearls and (delightful vision!) coins of gold falling in showers all around. We thought again that we were standing on the sappire shore of a wide sea of egg nogg with a golden ladle in our hand, which "ever and anon" we dipped into the|creamy flood. As we stood there ankle deep in gol den sands we saw an aged man paddling towards us in a dug-out, handling his silver Dars most gracefully. His craft was laden lo the edge with toys and jewelry. He leap ed ashore and introduced himself as Santa Claus, Esq. "f have had a busy day" said he, "for I suppose I have distributed, since twelve o'clock last night, about fourteen millions of stockings full of Christmas gifts. I have scarcely recovered from the money pinch of last year, and have not been quite as lavish as heretofore; nevertheless, I flat ter myself that I have judiciously used the funds placed at my disposal by the appro priate committee." We congratulated Santa Claus on his sun cessful and 110 doubt satisfactory annual dis tribution. Ho wipped his wrinkled brow with his bandana and continued : "I have finished my day's work all but my visit lo you. 1 was just paddling ashore to find some water when I was happy to see you. I cannot be mistaken ! You are an editor, Mr. , of the Courier. We acknowledged ourselves lo be that individual. "Well, then, I have a few presents which are especially designed for editors, and al though you are opposed lo the dead-head Byslem, I hope you will do me the honor to accept them. Mind j ou, lam no candidate, no log-roller, no politician ; I do not want my character white-washed or anything of that. If I did I should know better than ap ply to the Courier. He pulled up his sleeves and began to overhaul the gew-gaws and jewelry in his canoe. "In this box," said he, "you will find a condensed miniature library of some five hundred volumes. There is not a word of trash or falsehood in the whole lot. In pre paring this library for your use I have re jected everything not written by faithful, honest authors. You can find anything you want in this collection, and the volumes have this valuable pecularity—they cannot be borrowed or stolen. "Here is a charm that will protect you against intruders and bores. It is a simple contrivance, and the method of using it will readily suggest itself." It was indeed nothing but a substantial lock and key. "This little machine is a thing of verv delicate workmanship, which I shall not undertake to explain. it up under your clock. The needle turning upon the centre pivot is the moral index, which will point out on the dial plate the precise rela tive degree of mortality of every man who enters your door. Watch this little monitor and govern yourself by it. Whenever a notoriously bad man happens to oome in, take the monitor down and put it in your pocket—tho extraordinary strain upon its machinery to indicate a high degree of ras cality may injure it. If any one varies from the truth in his conversation this monitor will give out a scarcely audible ringing, no louder than the 'still small voice.' "This package of ivory tablets is intend ed to predict the names of successful candi dates. Write, for example, the names of the hundred prominent candidates for the Presidency upon as many tablets, shuffle them, put this ring on your forefinger and draw a card. Lay that card aside until af ter the adjournment of the Charleston Con vention and, you can see whether it bears the name of the candidates or not. Most probably it will not" We saw that Santa Clans "meant a joke" but we did not want to know who the can didate is to be, and he knew that we did not. "Here is a peculiar pen. After you have written your editorials hold this pen hori zontally and move it over each line. When il comes to a superfluous word it will.des cend as if by the power of attraction and draw a line across it. It cost much pains I to make this little implement and I hope you will find it useful. '•1 feel a little diffidence in offering this to you," said lie taking up a mahogany box about the size of a dictionary, "not because 1 fear you will abuse it, but rather that you will commit the opposite error." We asked him to explain its proprieties. "This is intended to expedite, and facili tate collections. I'lace the name of any delinquent subscriber upon this tablet and he is at once under the influence of the Automation Dun. Touch this key and you make him remember that he owes you. A touch of the second key will make him try to borrow money to pay you. Key No. 3 gives him a headache, No. 4 the rheuma tism, &e., Sic. You can inflict upon him whatever you please until he pavs his bill." We complimented Santa Claus upon his ingenuity, but declined accepting his won derlully cunning machine. He smiled and threw it back into the dug-out. "Here," he continued, holding up a beau tiful diamond pointed pen, "is the choicest gift I have to offer you. It is the pen of Thruth. There is not the millionth part of a grain of alloy in its pure gold. Industry furnished the metal. Virtue and Reason fashioned it. Imagination polished it but its greatest value lies in the dimond with which it is pointed. It is from no mine of earth—l scarcely dare tell you who gave it or whence it came. With this pen you can write nothing but truth. When I see you next year please show me what you have writen with it." We were so eager to grasp the precious gift that we fell into the sea of egg-nogg, and awoke with our floundering and strang ling in the milky flood. The fine visions of our dream had vanished and with them the venerable Nicholas and his gifts. Extravagance of (lit; Day. An esteemed lady friend requests us to in sert the following, and commend a careful perusal of it to the "Manygirls" and "Many boys" of our community." We cheerlully comply with her request, the more readily because the article stricks at the very heart of the popular follies ol Hie day, and its | publication may benefit "many" who are I daily readers of our paper. "In the town of somewhere lives Mr. I Manygirls. He is a toilsome merchant, his I his wife a hard-working housekeeper. Once j limy utM pour, now thuy are ruinously rich. , They have seven daughters, whom they j train up in bitter idleness. They are all do- j ingnothing. They spend much money, but ! not in the works of humanity, not even in elegant accomplishments,painting, dancing, t music, and the like, so paying in spiritual beauty what they take in material means.— They never read nor sing; they are know j nothings, and only in vain show, as useless ( as a ghost and as ignorant as the block on 1 which their bonnets are made. Now these; seven "ladies" (as the newspapers e the j poor things, so insignificant and helpless) I are not only idle, can earn nothing, but they | consume much. What a load of finery is] on their shoulders, and heads, and necks, j Mr. Manygirls hires many men and women to wail on his daughters' idleness, and these servants are withdrawn from the productive work of the shop or the farm, and set to the unproductive work of nursing these seven grown-up babies. "On the otherside of the way, Hon. Mr. Manyboys has seven sons, who are the ex act match of the merchants's daughters; rich, idle, some of them desolute; debauch ery coming before their beards; all useless, earning nothing, spending much and wast ing more. Their only labor is to kill time, and in summer they emigrant from pond to pond, and from lake to lake, having a fish ing line with a worm at one end and a fool at the other These are the first families in the town of Somewhero. Their idleness is counted pleasure. Six of these sons will marry, and five, perhaps, of Manygirls' daughters, and what families they will found, to live on the toil of their grandfathers' bones, until a commercial crisis and the wear and tear of time has dissipated their fortune, they are forced, reluctantly, to toil. WHAT A NOSE. —Not many years ago, in the village of Eatonton, Georgia, a man made his appearance and stopped at a tav ern. He had a most remarkable—nose which almost entirely monopolized his en tire face—red, Roman, enormoub. The glan ces cast at it, and the remarks made about it, had rendered its owner somewhat sensi tive upon the subject. A halt grown negro boy was summoned by the proprietor to carry his baggage to his room. Cufi'ee was much taken with the nose. As he came out of the room unable to contain himself any longer, he exclaimed, "Golly, what a nose!" Our tavoller overheard him. and went to his master with a demand for his punishment. CufTee was called up, and, at the suggestion of some bystandors, was let off on condition that he would apologize to the offended gentleman. This he very readly agreed to do. Walking to the room where our travel ler was, and touching his hat and humbly bowing he said, " Massa, you ain't got no nose at all I" ASHLAND NOT SOLD. —The Nation ' Intelli gencer contains a card from the Hon. James B. Clay, in which he says : —"I request that you will do mo the favor, by publishing this note, to make known that 1 have not told Ashland : and I never intend to do to; and earnestly hope that during my life no ncces eity may occur which will force me to pari with a home so full of memories dear to vie." Troth and Right God and our Country. Kins Solomon's Blacksmith. [ And it came to pass when Solomon, the son of David, had finished tha temple of Jerusalem, that he called unto him the chief architects, the head artificers and cunning workers in silver and gold and in wood and in ivory and stone—yet, all who aided in working on the Temple of the Lord and he said unto them:— '■Sit you down at my table; I have prepar ed a feast for all my chief workers and arti ficers. Stretch forth your hands, therefore, and drink and he merry. Is not the laborer j worthy of his hire ? Is not the skillful arti- i ficer deserving of honor ? Muzzle not the ! ox that treadeth out the corn." And when Solomon and the chief work men were seated, and the fatness of the land > and the oil thereof were set upon the table, , there came one who knocked loudly at tbe door, and forced himself even into the fes- | lal chamber. Then Solomon, the King was i wroth, and said, "What manner of man art thou ?" And the man answered and said ; "When men wish to honor me they call me Son of the Forge; but when they desire to mock me they called me blacksmith; and seeing that the toil of working in fire covers me with sweat and smut, the later name, O, King is not inapt, and in truth thy servant I desires no better." "But," said solomon, " why came you thus rudely and the feast, where none save the chief workmen of the temple are invited V "Please ye, my lord, I came rudely," re lied the man, "because thy servants obliged j me to force my way; but I came not unbid- 1 den. Was it not proclaimed that the chief workmen of the temple were to dine with the King of Israel ?" Then, he who carved the chefubim said : ! "This fellow is no sculplo-." And he who in laid the roof with pure | gold, said: "Neither is ho a workman in fine ! metals." And he who rai'-ed the walls, said : "He is not a cutter of stone." And he who made the roof cried out: "He is not cunning in cedar wood; neither know eth he the mystery of uniting pieces of strange timber together." Then said Solomon: "What has thou to say, Son of the Forge, why 1 should not or der the to be plucked by the beard with a scourge, and stoned to death with stones?" When the Son of the Forge heard this he was In noway dismayed; but, advancing to the table, snatched up atid swallowed a cup of wine, and said "O, King, live forever! The chief men of the workers in wood and gold and stone, have said that I am not of them, and they have said truly. I am their superior, before they lived was I created. I am their master, and they are all my ser vants." And he turned him around, and paid to the chief of the carvers of stone : "Who made the tools with which you carve ?" And ho said: "'The blacksmith." And ho said to the chief of the workers in wood: "Who made the tools with which you hewed the trees ot Lebanon, and form ed them into pillars and roof for the Tem ple?" Atid he said: "The blacksmith." Then he said to the artificer in gold and ivory: ' Who made your instruments by which you work beautiful things for my Lord the King ?" And he said: "The blacksmith." "Enough, enough, my good fellow,".said Solomon, "thou hast proved that I invited thee, and thou art all men's father in art.— Go wash the smut of tbe forge from thy face and come and sit at my right hand. The chiefs of my workmen are but meu—thou art more." So it happened at the feast of Solomon, and blacksmiths have been honored ever since. Ike Partington and Pugilism. Mrs. Partington was much surprised to find Ike one rainy afternoon in the spare room, with the rag-bag hung to the bed post, which he was belaboring very lustily with his fists as huge as two one cent ap ples. "What gygpnastiness are you doing hore ?" said she, as she opened the door. He did not stop, and merely replying "train- j ining," continued to pitch in. She stood j looking at him as he dauced a round the 1 bag, busily punching its rotound sides.— "That's the Morrissey touch," said he, giv ing one side a dig, "and that," hitting the other side' "is the Benicia Boy." "Stop'" | said the dame, and he immediately stopped after he had given the last blow for Mojrts sey. "I'm afraid the training yon are hav ing isn't good," said 6he, "and I think you had better train in some other company. 1 thought your goiug into copound fractures at school would be dilalorious to you. 1 don't know who Mr. Morrisou is and don't want to, but I hear that he has been whipping the Pernicious Boy, a poor lad with a sore leg, and I think ho should be ashamed of himself." Ike had read the Herald with all about the geat prize fight, and hud become entirely carried away with if How IN A JURY ROOM—A row occurred in a jury room at Pittsburg, l'a., on Friday last. They stood eleven against one on a knotty case, when the one becoming insolent, and giving the lio to an old man, he was put throngh in good style. Three broken chairs were found in the jury room, and thero were other evidences of a general muss. " SAMBO, does yer know why dem noisy birds is called carron for ?" "Gosh, Jerry, I got him! Cause dey carry on so over a dead hoss." Sleeping with the Landlord's Wife. We give the annexed incident in regard to Ilev. Zeb Twitched, a methodist clergy man in lull and regular standing, and a member of the Vermont conference: At one time he represented Stockbridge in the State Legislature. Zeb, says our in formant, is a man of fair talents, both as a preacher and a musician. In the pulpit he is grave, solemn, dignified, and a thorough systematic sermonizer; but one of it there is no man living who is more full of lun and drollery. Oil one occasion he was wending his way towards the seat of the Annual Conference ofMinisters, in company with another clergyman. Passing a coun try inn, he remarked to the other clergy man— " The last time f stopped at that tavern, 1 slept with the landlord's wife." In utter amazement, his clerical friend wanted to know what he meant. "I mean just what I say," replied Zeb; and on went the two travelers in unbroken silence until they reached the conference. In the early part of the session, the con ference sat with doors for the purpose of transacting some private business, and es pecially to attend to the annual examina tion of each member's private character, or I rather conduct, during the past year. For ' this purpose the clerk called Zeb's name, j " Does any one know aught against the ! character ot brother Twitehell during the ! past year?" asked tbebishbp, who was the j presiding officer. After a moment'^silence, Zeb's traveling companion arose with a heavy heart and | grave countenance; said he had a duty to perform—one that he owed to God and the church, and to himself; he must therefore discharge it fearlessly, though tremblingly. He then related what Zeb had told him while passing the tavern, how he slept with the landlord's wife, etc. The grave body of ministers were struck as with a thunderbolt, although a few smil ed and looked first at Zeb, then upon the bishop, knowingly, for they knew better than the others the character of the accus ed. The bishop called upon brother T., and I asked him what he had to say in relation to so serious a charge. Zeb rose and said : | " I did the deed! I never lie !" Then pausing with an awful seriousness, he prooeeded with a slow and solemn de liberation: " There was one litilecircumstance, how ever, connected with the affair, I did not name to the brother. It may not have much weight to the conference, but although it may be deemed of trifling importance, 1 will state it: When I slept with the land lord's wife, as I told the brother, 1 kept the tavern myself!" 0 Tar! The Printer's Christmas. " Is the editor within !" " Your servant, sir " " A package. Charges, thirty-eight cents." Happened to have i-t that amount. Paid expressman, and then with a nervous han£, proceeded to examine the mysterious box, The cover is removed, when our eyes are gladdened with the sight of a fine, fat tur key. The next thing brought to light was a boltleof champagne; |and the next and last, a huge demijohn, marked " O Tar." What in the world is O Tar? It must mean Old Tar; but what in the world induced any one to send us either old or new Tor; We havn't got any wagon, and as for getting up ' a bonfire for the benefit of the Republicans, ! we are not in the humor. We have it.— j We will sell it lo the livery man. Called' on him and he said he did not use tar, but I grease on his wagons. Brought -it back lo i the office, in not very good humor, still wondering why it was sent to us. Resolved finallyto draw the cork. Did so. It wasn't! tar. Smelt of it. Knew by the smell it' wasn't tar. Tasted of it, and became fully j satisfied that it wasn't tar. Tasted again, and then drew up a resolution declaring, in 1 the most emphatic terms, that it wasn't tat. Tasted again, and then entered the resolu tion among the regular proceedings, to make i it sure that it wasn't tar. Tasted again and began to feel happy. Tasted again, and felt very happy. Tasted again, and soon became very rich and resolved to give our | cottage to a poor widow and purchase the j elegant mansion over the way—to donate . our office to Jabe and buy out the New Yoik Ledger. Gave the "devil" a S2O gold piece for Christmas, and promised him round hundred for New Years. Bought a $5,000 pair of nags and a sleigh cushioned with scarlet velvet, and decorated with gold and pearls. Ordered from the south, a darkey driver and postman, wose laces shone like a glass bottle under direct sun-ray. Went ovor the "Union" and told Fred to send every poor family in town a barrel of Julean Mills flour, and nameless other articles to render them comfortable. Bought all the wood in market and ordered it sent imme diately to the aforesaid poor families. Gave oach of the clergymen in town a thousand dollars—adopted fourteen orphan girls, and filteen orphan boys—run around and paid all debts (what printer on earth done that?) —kissed (before we thought) a pretty girl who called to wish us a merry Christmas (somebody looked unpleasant when this hap pened)—settled the matter by ordering a thousand dollar shawl, and a set of furs costiug an equal umount —put on our slip pers (imagining that we heard music,) did hear music, for somebody came near being kicked out of bed. Alas! wo bad ouly been drinking!— Sandy Hill Herald. I SORROWS grow less every time they are told just like the age of a woman. TO MY LITTLE DAUGHTER. By C. D. STEWART. Soft be thy pillow my darling, That beara thee in slumber to-night; Sweet be thy dreams, till the morning Wakes thee to fairer delight: My precious, my innocent darling, My loving, my beautilul one, God keep thee from sickness and sorrow, 1 1 ill life's little journey is done. What were the light of the morrow, If thou should'st not waken again— What but a cloud and a tempest, And sadness and anguish, and pain ? The curls on thy brow are our sunshine ; The light of thine eye is our joy ; The smile on thy lip brings us gladness, And pleasure unmixed with alloy. Surely the angels my darling," Will watch thee in waking and sleep, And God in his infinite goodness, The way of thy footsteps will keep ; Tenderly, lovingly, bending, Shield her. good angels, to night, Sweet be her slumber, till morning Wakes her to dearer delight. Frightening Children. We know of nothing more reprehensible, I nothing more dangerous and injudicious, i than the practice of frightening children in | the nursery, at the family fireside, and in I the social circle, by retailing to them ghost | stories, goblin tales and wilchcralt fictions, j They receive painful impression from which j their nervous system does not recover for | years, perhaps not during their whole lives j Children and young persons have generally great curiosity in relation to these tales of I the imagination, especially when they are attended by some gossipping nurse, whose head, being empty of good sense, has been filled brim full of ghost legends and black letter recollections. If there is a worse con ditio!) upon earth than that into which mon strous superstition plunges an imaginative child, we have novon.ception of its curdling horrors. Never to lay the head upon the pillow, from the time it is two or three years of ago, until seven, eight or ten, without feeling the most perfect assurance in its own prophecy, and seeing some hideous spectre before morning. This is the purga tory of early, innocent, and otherwise happy childhood. These midnight horrors haunt the imagination eyes to old age. They may lose somewhat of their painful vividness, their appaling distinctness—something of j their curdling horrors, so potent in its mys tery, and so terrific even in its impossibility —bui these terrors linger in the imagination still, ready to be called up in every suspic ions spot, awakened in every solitude, in spite of all the judgment can do or the per son can urge. For a moment, at certain I times, even to old age, the heart will throb I with paiuful distinctness, the hair will be- I come perpendicular, and a disagreeable J shudder will make the blood cold in his j veins, even when manhood has reached its prime. To be sure, the judgment soon dis- i pels these unfounded fears, but they will j haunt the victim at tijnes, to his dying day.' These are some of the painful deleterious ' effects of frightening children in the early | season of their growth. How important it is that parents should guard thein against } these early groundless terrors, exciting the early imagination, and chaining the tremb- | ling victim to the indescribable agony of i this nervous bondage for all its future lifo. | Religion in Wonmn. I The wisdom and skill of an Almighty | hand are visible in every part ot creation, j yet no where are they more so than in the I delicate and perfect form he has given to 1 Woman. It is not in the mind of a man to j conceive of an object that presents to the ' eye or to the mind, so perfect a model of what we esteem beautiful, or so many deli j cate and affectionate sensibilities as are I united in lovely and charming Woman.— ; j That lively sympathy which feels for every ; wo—that kindly strong affection, which I time nor circumstances can change—that benevolent heart, ever ready to bestow its charities upon suffering humanity—that j j spirit of perseverance under hardships and ] affections, which nothing can break down | —are peculiarly the attributes of woman 1 But she may possess all these, together with ' a well educated and woll cultivated mind;! an extensive acquaintance with books and ! with the world, possess all the power at-' tached to what are generally denominated 1 I the arts of pleasing—and yet, if destitute of lleligion, she is like a beautiful painting I ' exhibited in a bad light, or an elegant watch | wiihout a regulator. When we have seen, at the mention ot a religious subject, the | blood rising and indignantly to the face ol a beautiful woman, and her full dark eye kin i dling into angry disdain—the blood has | chilled at our heart, and a deep feeling of i | desolation came over us, as we mentally , exclaimed: i Beauty that veils an Atheist's heart Is seen, but is not felt— ' Tie like the moonbeam on the snow, That gilds, but does not melt. AN Irish gentleman perceiving that one of the great branches of an apple tree in his garden had been by some accident en tirely blasted, was determined to lop it off. To effectuate his purpose, the shrewed son of St. Patrick mounted the tree, and got across the withered branch and began very deliberately to saw off betwixt himself and the main trunk. The withered branch be ing nearly cut through, gave way, and down tumbled the gallant Hibernian, not a little stunned by the fall, and considerably bruis ed by the weight of the incumbent branches, but still most astonished at the mystery of this inexplicable accident I [Two Dollars per Annum. NUMBER 4. A Plucky preacher. | A Methodist preacher well known for his I uncompromising hostility to all intoxicating ! drinks, had made an appointment to preach j in a neighborhood notorious for its intem perance. It was generally understood that j his remarks were chief'y to be directed j against the besetting sin of the district in | which he was to preach, and several noted j bullies had given out that they intended to whip him if he touched on what they meant should be forbidden ground. The day ap pointed for preaching arrived, and tho preacher appeared on the stand. A large number of his friends from adjacent dis tricts, hearing of threats against him, had come to the meeting, in order, il necessary to protect him from violence, but the preach er had no intentions that any of his friends should fight on his account; he was able to do his own fighting. Accordingly, 011 mounting the stand, he had thrown off his coat and vest, and rolled up his shirt sleeves, displaying the arm and chest of a Hercules. He said he had heard there were several men prseut who had threatened to whip h'm ; that he had many friends present who were able ar.d willing to protect him. He said he did not like fighting, but if there must be fighting on his account, he would rather do it h : mself than have his friends tight for him, and as ho did not wish the services interrupted, lie would prefer that it should take place before the meeting was opened. <; And therefore," said he, 'if there is any man hero who thinks he can whip me and intends to try it, if he will have the goodness to step forward I will flax him out with as much easo as I now li.t brother Smiih; 7 saying while he seized a preacher who stood by his side and who was a small sized man, by the waistband of the breeches, and lifted him from the ground, held him out arms length with one hand. The exhibition of physical strength prevented any demonstration on the part o( his enemies, and the meeting proceeded without interruption. A DOMRSTIC NKCKSSITV Every house should have as an inmate, ivgood natured, sensible, tidy, old lady. This important fixture should always be, if possible a grand mother, or, as she next best, an aunt; yet so indispensable to tho respectability, com fort, and convenience of a well-regulated household is the old lady, that if this system of housekeeping become general, it will be come quite natural to find under tho head of'' wants" in the newspapers, inquiries for proper old ladies to supply the lack of dear old folks gone to the belter home. In ( deed, old ladies discovering themselves in | demand .would keep in preservation much i longer, nor begin to make winding sheets j and grave caps lull ten years before the reap | or came to gather in the shocks of corn fully ; ripe. Old ladies are needed. Providence | designed such to fill a large space in the do | mesiic circle; a class remarkable as not liv ! ing for themselves but for others—the most j beautiful specimens of disinterested love ( this side of Heaven. A CORRKSPODENT of the Boston Courier tells how Daniel Webster offered himself to the woman of his choice: "Mr. Webster married the woman ho loved, and the twenty years he lived with her brought him to the meridian of his great ness. An anecdote is current on this sub ject which is not recorded in the book. Mr. Webster was becoming intimate with Miss Fletcher, when a skein of silk g'ing into a knot, Mr. Webster assisted in unraveling the snarl—then looking up to Miss Grace, he said: ' We have untied a knot, don't you think we could tie one V Grace was a little embarrassed, said not a word, but in the course of a few minutes' she tied a knot in a piece of tape and handed it to Mr. W. This piece of tape, the thread of his domes, tic joys, was found alter the death of Mr. Webster, preserved as one of his most prec ious relics." TUB bight of impudence was well illustra ted at New York, in the United Stales Cir cuit Court. A man named M'Adam, was tried on a charge of larceny on the high seas, in stealing some sovereigns out of a woman's corset, but he was acquitted through the ex ertions ol his counsel. As soon as the ver dict had been rendered, the accused cooly stepped up to the jury and addressing one of their number, said ; "You have acquitted me, but i am the man that took the money, and then waeked out of the court, leaving a rather funny look 011 the face of the juror, addressed. SENSIBLE GIRL.— As a weary traveler was wending his way through the mud out in the far west he discovered a young maiden standing in the door of a log house. He rode up in front of the house and asked the mai den for a drink of water; he drank it, and she being the first woman he had 6een for several days; kissod her and offered her a dime. The traveler was about to resume his journey, but the maiden having never seen a dime, asked ; What I am to do with the dime V "You can use it any way you wish, he replied ; "it is yours." ""That being the case," said she. "I'll give you back the dime and take another kiss J" A KENTUCKY girl, who married a follow of mean reputation, was taken to task lor it by her uncle. 1 know uncle," she replied, "that Joe is not good for much ; but 110 said I dure not have him, and I wou't take a stump from anybody.'^
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers