THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
. B. JACOB!, Croprklor.J
VOLUME 11.
©IF
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY
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l£l)oite JJoelrn.
HIE RIVER'S BANK.
BV FRANK LEE BENEDICT.
So many untold years have passed,
As birds with bright wings flee,
Since we beside that river's edge
Sat down in childish glee.
The day was beautiful and calm,
We happy as the day,
The very waters seemed to laugh
Like children in their play.
You sat and told me fairy tales,
And both believed them true,
You from your faith in all things bright,
I from my trust in you.
You told nie that in after years
We'd dwell beside that stream,
And all the while the waters laughed,
So pleasant was the dream,
1 asked you if an elfin queen
Had made your eyes so blue—
And then the waters louder laughed,
As if they thought it true.
The sunlight played amid your hair—
It loved you as its child—
And if 1 had a childish pain,
I lost it when you smiled.
We launched our barks upon the waves,
And marked them dance and shine ;
Yours safely gained the other shore—
The waters buried mine I
Your face was like an angel's then,
lis look has scarcely changed,
Yon dwell beside that river yet
While 1 afar have ranged.
You might believe in fairies still,
Your life has been so fair—
Some vestal nun serenely calm
Might have the look you wear.
The hopes which blossom o'er your heart,
Are like the flowers of yore—
You still fling roses on the tide,
And still they gain the shore 1
The laughing glee of that bright day
Departed trom me long,
Perchance those dreaming waters keep j
The echo of its song.
Ah no ! the throbbing of my heart
Would hnsh its pleasant tone.
To hear the summer music there
Is left for you alone.
Country Churches.
There is something grand and impressive
in a fashionable city church, notwithstand
ing the frivolities that are said to prosper in
satin and broad-cloth, and under vaulted
roofs. The slender and graceful columns
supporting the roofs, the pictured windows,
and, above all, the tones of the organ swel
ling in triumphal rejoicings, or dying away
in mournful cadences. The deep hnsh that
falls suddenly upon a multitude during the
prayer: the grave silence which attends the
discourse, broken now and then by a half
smothered cough, or the slight shuffling of
a foot, grown restless with long quiet, and
which increases rather than detracts from
its inipressiveness; the eloquent tones of
the preacher, and the deep solemnity of the
subject which has called them together—all
these unite in aweing the attendants and
wakening, with sublimity of the surround
ing circumstances, a feeling of heartfelt ap
preciation of that unnamed Power, whose
throne is bounded on morality, which rises
with inconceivable magnificence into the
vastness of the immortal.
Notwithstanding all these, we believe that
our hearts turn with far tenderer recollections
and more earnest devotion to the Creator, in
the little churches that are dropped down,
in beautiful places in every village and on
every country side. In the former we may
be more impressed with the majesty of God,
but in the latter we seem to feel his tender
care as nearer to us. Me seems the more
loving God when surrounded by the every
day exhibitions of his hand. It is no long
er the Creator to dread, but the Heavenly
father to love. Our recollections go back to
them, and dwell about them with eve
ry sunshinny Sabbath in the city. The per
fume of the trees and the growing grass is
; Strangely associated with them. The brook
gfilose at hand has a murmur like the soumfr
jpf Sunday bells; and we remember the quiet
Bhttle aisles, the hard benches, and even the
VHbgarmon with a feeling of the tenderest
SBL. The balmy air, blowing fresh from
"that turned the hymn-books'
the bright faces, once so
full ofVpes, but now grave and tender, as
if a w<fl(Mng thought of deeper feeling
had a moment in the heart; and
the language of the preacher,
are kept memory, while many
a worldly d into oblivion.
Then, after the gathering of bon
nets, the sense of relief, and
the are a pleasure
of themselves. still call
them beaux in the they
are friends in the would not ride
home with some one ; tlmHpjLdreaded suc
cess obtained, and the of
conversation, and—there's luoCT^^K.
Somebody advertises for j
a work entitled, "Hymeneal
A cotemporary adds, "The best hyniHai ;
instructor we know of is a young widinlH
What she don't know, there is no use in!
learning."' I
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 13. 1859.
WHAT SKILL BE HOKE WITH IIUTKAL
Now that our Charley is so admirably dis
posed of, we have a moment to spare to
look after his mother. We shall And her
in the nursery, her basket piled with clean
clothes from the wash that need mending
—her dress is neat, but very plain, for she
says she has not time to attend to a more
elaborate toilette; the children's sewing
must be attended to first. Now, this matter
of sewing that Martha speaks of has be
come a very serious affair. 'Tis true I has
tened to buy her a most approved sewing
machine, as soon as such an article was
heard of. "Now, Martha," said I, "here is
a machine that will do your sewing all up
by magic, so farewell to work-baskets,
needles, and thimbles—let me see no more
of those wearisome things." Martha was
delighted with my gift, and soon learned to
use it skillfully; but, if you'll believe me,
she works as constantly as before; and to
all my inquiries and remonstrances only re
plies, "Oh, you men have no idea how
much filling and finishing there is to be
done." Between you and me, I really be
lieve my wife has multiplied the number of
garments in proportion to her facility for
making them. (There's a dozen of shirts
beautifully stitched for myself; now those
were really necessary.) She points with
pride to Charley, Jane and Fanney, and
seys she sees no children better dressed on
the sireet,ar.d her motherly heart is satisfied;
but must she wear out her valuable life for
this? She has suffered greatly from neu
ralgia during the past year. I consulted
her doctor; he said, "It is getting to be a
very common disease, very common, partic
ularly among females; the nervous disease
is easily prostrated, she must be careful—
try aconite and belladonna—let her take ex
ercise in the open air—have freedom from
care—if she is not better, call me in."—
Exercise in the open air. Why, that is
wholly out of the question. Martha is busy
within doors all day long, makes capital
pies, cake, and preserves, and will not trust
any domestic with this department of cook
ing; to tell the truth, I should not fancy
these things made by any other hands
Then she prefers ironing her own muslin,
the children's undersleeves, etc.; servants
tear fine things so. So with many other
little matters about the house. But these
things would be a pleasure if she could rest
after them. But there are' our children ;
were there ever such noisy ones before ? I
suppose so, as they are really an institution.
Jane and Charley are so nearly of an age,
and both are favored with such remarkable
inventive powers, that they aid each other
in getting up all kinds of mischief and noise.
Now on the back of a chair, reaching over
the open grate to the mantel piece, now at
the sewing machine, arranging and old
stocking under the pad, and hurrying to get
thiough before mamma appears; now gal
loping up and down the room like wild
horses, which last operation, being most
harmless, is submitted to by poor weary
Martha, who is trying to rest on the lounge.
But there goes Fanny! The dear little thing
used to be a perfect sunbeam in the house;
but she is irritable Irom teething, and ma
ma must rise and take her. I tried to get a
nurse lor her, but the careful mother dis
covered so many defects that she preferred
looking after the children herself. In all
this I have not touched upon the numerous
guests, who, finding Martha's house-keep
ing excellent, and her table so abundant,
often claims our hospitality. When can
she take the fresh air ? When can she find
freedom from care ? What shall be done for
our Martha?
A year or two ago Martha's sister spent
some time with us. She was a returned
missionary from India, and from constant
association with the English residents there,
had become thoroughly English in her taste
and fellings. Our manner of life evidently
disturbed her. She telt no sympathy with
our nervous hurry and excitement. "Oh,
you Americans do not know how to enjoy
life," she would say; "you need to take a
few lessons from the English. They sacri
fice far less to outward show, but enjoy in
finitely more in their families. The money
you all expend in equaling or outshining
I your neighbors, would purchase for you a
host ol simple pleasures." I pondered her
words. It is true, thought 1, that I take
Martha and children a drive every eve, after
business is over, but that is all. The chil
dren's noise disturbs me; they are hurried
to bed, and are not up when I start for the
store, so I seldom see them, and can of
course do little for them. Recently I came
across a little book, written by Mary Howitt
at the solicitation of friends, describing their
manner of educating their daughters, and
there I had a nearer glimpse of English
life. The mother read the life of our Sav
ior, and pointed out the lessons of practical
wisdom and piety to her child; the father
led her out into the grand old woods, and
there pointed out the sublime beauty of the
prophets; whilst from the book of nature he
learned her the voice of every warbler she
listened to, and the name of every leaf and
tree she gazed upon. And when the little
girl's health seemed delicate, the molh'or at
once removed to one ol those charming
cottages which the English ever seem ready
to lend or hire, ready furnished, to one an
other; and there in a quiet farm-house, on
the shores of a beautiful lake, she drank in
the fresh air, and gathered strength from
long rides on her little pony, or equally long
walks through the woods with her mother.
And when her father could find a leisure
jgitf, he would'take a friend or two in his
■Mtboat, and stopping for his wife and
jßhjtter by the lake, they would row out to
some beautiful island,and there under wide
spreading trees spread their table and enjoy
a few delicious hours, ere their father return
ed to the city and the mother and daughter
to their pleasant retreat. Do yoa wonder
that the daughter recovered her health, or
that Mary Howitt is so Iresh and youthful
in her feelings? Cannot we Americans do
something ol this kind ? I know many do;
and if we live till next August, Martha and
I will join their ranks. Farewell to Niagara
and Saratoga, rich dresses, late hours, and
little uncomfortable rooms ;—we will seek !
out some quiet farm house among the hills,
or by the sea side; take all the children and
let them run wild in their old clothing, whilst
we, with books and ponies and picnicing in
the woods, will forget for a few brief weeks
that there are such things as counting houses,
sewing machines, or bad servants.—Aide
pendent.
Sensible Advice to Young Men.
The following article from the Cayuga
Chief, contains so many valuable suggestions
and such pithy advice to our young men
that we publish it, and hope that every per
son, both old and young—male and female
—will carefully read it, and then cut it out
to read the next time they are afflicted
and tormented with the blues. Everji word
of it is true, and by remembering its injunc
tions, you will be greatly benefitted :—That
never'll do young man 1 No use to stand
on the sidewalk and whine about hard luck,
and say that everything goes against you.—
You are not of half the consequence your
talk would lead us to believe. The world
hasn't declared war against you. You are
like all the rest of us—a mere speck on the
earth's surface. Were you this moment to
go down in the living tide, but a bubble
would linger lor a moment upon the surface,
and even that would vanish unnoticed.—
The heart is full of hope and ambiiion, but
is not missed when it ceases to beat. One
such as yon would not leave a ripple.
Yon are a coward—a cowird —in the bat
tle. There's no fight in you. You have
surrendered without a struggle, and now
whine because you are beaten! You are
not worthy of a triumph for you have not
earned it. In garret, hut, and dripping cel
lar are ten thousand heroes who would put
you to shame. They must toil or starve
The strife is a desperate one with them, for
they wrestle with want, while ragged and
despairing ones watch at the lone hearth
tho IcaYful contest. Strong men look death
in the eye when their sinews are strung by
the wail of hungry childhood.
Shame on you ! In the full vigor of health
and manhood, no mouth but your own to fill,
and no back but your own to cover,and yet
crouching under the first scourgings of ad
verse fortune. You know nothing of the
storm, for you have seen but the summer.
One cloud has frightened you,and you think
you are hardly dealt by. You will be lucky,
if you find no darker shadows across your
path. Stand up, young sir, pull your hands
from your pockets, throw off your coat,
and take fortune by the throat. You may
be thrown again and again, but hang on.—
Put away the nonsense that the world is all
against you. Tain't so. Your destiny is in
your own strong arm ! With an unbending
will,and honor and truth for your guide, the
day is your own.
No capital, eh ? You have capital. God
has given your perfect health. That is an
immense capital to start on. You have
youth and strength—all invulnerable. Add
a will to do. put your sinews in motion, and
you will win. A man in full health and
strength, should never whitie or despair be
cause fortune does not pour a stream of gold
eagles into his pockets. If you have no
money,work and get it. Industry,economy,
and integrity will do wonders. From such be
ginings fortunes have been reared. They
can be again. Will you try it? Or will you
wait for the stream of gold to run bv, so that
you can walk dry shod into the El Dorado
of wealth ? Or will yen meet the waves
defiantly, and be the architect ol your own
fortune."
Try —it is glorious toconquer in the strife.
NEVER DO TOO MUCH AT A TIME.— Sir Ed
ward Bulwer Lytton, in a lecture recently
delivered in England, gave the following
history of his literary habits :
Many persons seeing me so much engag
ed in active life, and as much about the
world as if 1 had never been a student,have
said to me, "When do you get time to write
all your books ? How on earth doyou con
trive to do so much work ?" I shall surprise
you by the answer I make. The answer is
this : "1 contrive to do so much by never
doing too much at a time. A man, to get
through work well, must not over work him
self; or, il he do too much to-day, the reac
tion of fatigue will come, and he will be
obliged to do little to-morrow. Now since I
began really and earnestly to study, which
was not till I had left college, and was actu
ally in the world, I may perhaps say that I
have gone through as large a course of gen
eral reading as most men of my time. I
have traveled much, and I have seen much,
1 have mixed much in politics, and in the
various business of life ; and in addition to
all this, I have published somewhere about
sixty volumes, some upon subjects requir
ing much special research. And what time
do you think,as a general rule I have devot
ed to study—to reading and writing? Not
more than three hours a day; and, when
Parliament is sitting, not always thai. But
then, during those hours, I have given my
whole attention to what I was about."
IF a good act benefits no one else it bene
fits the one who does it.
Trntb and Right i'ad fonutrj.
A Midnight Adventure.
Females often possess presence of mind, ,
and the power of self-control under circum
stances of imminent peril which seems al
most foreign to their nature and beyond the
endurance of a delicate physical organize- ,
lion. A striking instance ol self-command,
by a lady whose fears must have been pow- '
erfully excited, and whose life ol affluence
had probably never before given her nerves
any severer test than is incident to the vex
ations of domestic cares is given in Cham
ber's Journal of last month. We copy the
adventure, premising by the way of ex
planation, that the lady was the daughter of i
a rector in a quiet English country village, I
and was upon the eve of maniuge.
"The wedding day was to be upon the '
morrow of that upon which our adventure
happened.
Grand preparations were made for the
wedding; and the rector's fine old plate,and
the costly gifts of the bride were discussed
with pride and pleasure at the Hare and
Hounds, in the presence of some strangers,
who had come to a prize fight, which had
taken place in the neighborhood.
That r.ight Adelaide, who occupied a sep
arate room from her sister, sat up late—long
after the household had retired to rest. She
had a long interview with her father and
had been reading a chapter to which he had
directed attention, and since had packed up
her jewels &o. She was consequently, still
dressed when the church clock tolled mid
night. As it ceased she heard a low noise
like that of a file ; she listened, but could
discover nothing clearly. It might have
been made by some of tho servants still
about, or perhaps it was only the croaking
of the old trees. She heard nothing but the
sighing of the winter winds for many min
utes afterwards. House breakers were mere
myths in primitive Thydon. and the bride
elect without a thought of fear, resumed
her occupation. She was gazing on a glit
tering set of diamonds, destined to be worn
at the wedding, when her bedroom door
soltly opened. She turned, looked up and
beheld a man with a black mask, holding a
pistol in his hand, standing before her
She did not scream for her first thought
was for her father who slept in the next
room, and to whom any sudden alarm might
, be death, for he was old and feeble and suf
i fering from heart complaint. She confront
ed the robber boldly, and addressed him in
a whisper, "You are come IQ rob us Spare
j your soul the awful guilt of murder. Mv
father sleeps next to my room, and to be
; startled from his sleep would kill him.—
Make no noise, 1 beg of you.
The fellow was astonished and cowed.—
' "We won't make r.o noise, (he replied sud
denly,) if you give us everything quietly."
| Adelaide drew back and let him lake her
jewels—not without a pang, for they where
, precious love gifts, remarking at the same
lime that two more masked ruffians stood at
the half open door. As he took the jewel
case and watch from the table and demand
ed her purse, she asked him if he intended
j logo into her father's room. She received
a surley affirmative. "He wasn't going to run
I a risk and leave half the tin behind !" She
proposed instantly that she would go her-
I self; saying : "I will bring you whatever
I you wish, and you may guard me thither,
and kill me if 1 play false to you. The fel
j low consulted his comrades, and alter a
1 short parley, they agreed to the proposal,
and with a pistol pointed at her head, the
dauntless girl crossed the passage and en
| tered the rector's room. Very gently she
! stole across the chamber, and removing his
j purse, watch, keys and desk gave them up
|to the robbers who stood at the door. The
j old man slept peacefully and calmly, thus
I guarded by his child, who softly shut the
door, and demanded if Ihe robbers were yet
satisfied.
The leader replied that they should be
when they got the spread of plate spread
out below, but they couldn't let her out of
sight, and that she must go with them. In
compliance with this mandate she followed
them down stairs to the dining room, w here
a splendid wedding breakfast had been laid
to save trouble and hurry on the morrow.—
To her surprise,the fellows.eight in number
W'hen assembled—seated themselves and
prepared to make a good meal. They or
dered her to get out wine, and cut her own
wedding cake for them; and then seated at
the head of the table, she was compelled to
preside at this extraordinary revel.
They ate and drank, and joked; and Ade-1
laide, quick of ear and eye, had thus time
to study, in her quiet way, the figures and
voices of the whole set.
When the repast was ended,and the plate
was transferred to a sack, they prepared to
depart, whispering together ar.d glancing at
the young lady. For the firsttime Adelaide's
courage gave way and she trembled ; but it
was not a consultation against her; they told
her that they did not wish to harm her—
that she was a jolly wench, regular game,
and they wouldn t hurt her,but that she must
swear not to give an alarm till nine or ten
the next day, when they should be off all
safe. To this she was of course obliged to
assent, and then they all insisted on shak
ing hands with her. She noticed during the
parting ceremony, that one of the ruffian*
had only three lingers on his lefl hand.
Alone in the despoiled room, Adelaide
faint and exhausted, awaited tne first gleam
of day; when, as the robbers did not return
she stole up to her room, undressed, and
fell into a disturbed slumber. The conster
nation of the family, the next morning
might be imagined, and Adelaide's story
was still more astounding than the fact of
the robbery itself. Police were sent for
from London, guided by Adelaide's lucid
description of hßr midnight guests, actually
succeeded in capturing every one of the
gang, whom the young lady had no difficul
ty in identifying and swearing to the "three
fingered Jack" being the guiding clue to the
discovery. The stolen property being near
ly all recovered, and the old rector always
declared; and with truth, that he owed his
life to the self-possession and judgment of
his eldest daughter.
Rualificalioiis of a Schoolmaster.
A long time ago, a young collegian, itin
erating in the State of Maine, tell in com
pany, and also in love, with a very pretty
girl, the daughter of an old curmudgeon,
whose brains were made of sawdust, hog's
lard, and molasses, but who, on account of
the spaciousness of his farm, had been for
years at the head of the school committee
in the district. The collegian's attachment
to Sally (lor.fhat was the name of the daugh
ter) was so overpowering that all the logic
and philosophy he had learned in the
schools was, compared to the force of his
passion, as chaff in a hurricane. But not
having ihe werewithal to winter in Maine
without a resort to employment, he intima
ted to Sally that he would like to keep the
school in that district. The kind-hearted
girl informed him that her father was com
mittee-mati; and she also informed him
what questions he would put to him, and
how he must answer them if he expected
to gain the good graces of her parenia! re
lative. Accordingly, one Sunday evening,
the young man of classio lore informed the
old ignoramus that he would like to take
their school for the winter, and board in
his family, whereupon the old fellow as
sumed an air of much importance, and
looking at the applicant with his usual dig
nity while examining candidates for keep
ing school, put the same questions that Sal
ly had informed her admirer would be ask
ed.
'Do you believe in the final salvation of
all the world ?'
'Most certainly,'answered the young col
legian, 'it is the only belief that the scrip
tures justify.'
'Do you believe that God ever made an
other man equal to Thomas Jefferson ?'
'Certainly not—and 1 have been of this
opinion ever since 1 read his Notes on Vir
ginia ?'
!Can yon spell Massachusetts?'
'I ought to know how, sir, for it is my
j native State.?'
I 'Well, spell it.'
j The young man spelled the word very
j distinctly, when the father turned to the
j daughter and said:
I 'Did he spell it right, Sally ?'
I 'Yes, sir, answered the affectionate girl:
when her father, turning again to the can
didate, trumphantly exclaimed :
'You may begin school to-morrow.'
How the young pedagogue and Sally
managed affairs through the wrnter is an
other part of the story.
Moral Suasion.
When a friend of ours whom we shall
call Agricola was a boy, he lived on a farm
in Berkshire county, the owner of which
was much troubled by his dog, Wolf. The
cur killed his sheep, and he could devise
no means to prevent it. "I can break him
of it," said Agricola, "if you will give me
leave." "Thou art permitted," said the
honest farmer—and now we will let Agri
cola tell the story in his own words.
"There was a ram on the farm," says Ag
ricola, "as notorious for butting as Wolf was
for sheep-stealing, and who stood in as much
need of moral suasion as the dog. I shut
Wolf up in the barn with this old fellow,
and the consequence was, that the dog nev
er looked a sheep in the face again. The
ram broke every bone in his body lit
erally. Wonderfully uplifted was the ram
by this exploit; his insolence grew in
tolerable; he was sure to pitch into whom
soever went nigh him. "I'll fix him," said
I, and so I did. I rigged an iron crowbar
out of a hole in the barn, point foremost,
and hung an old hat on the end of it. You
can't always tell,when you see a hat,wheth
er there is a head in it or not, how then
should a ram 1 Aries made at it full butt,
and being a good marksman, from long
practice, the bar broke in between his horns
ana came out under his tail. This little ad
monition effectually cured him of butting."
TIIB Steuben Courier says that a school
commissioner there recently required a
class of young gentlemen to pledge them
selves not to attend evening parties, nor go
home with girls after dark !' before he
would grant them the required certificates
as teahers. We consider this rather a sen
sible condition—but have very little doubt
if this would be made a consideration in
Columbia county, that there would be a
great many pledges broken. We ihink the
young men here would go in for having the
order reversed. After (lark is the very time
when they believe young ladies to stand
most in need of their protection.
An English Judge being asked what
contributed most to success at the bar re
plied : " Some succeeded by great talent,
some by the influence of their friends,some
by a miracle, but the marjority by com
mencing without a shilling.
A chap walking along the street, seeing
a lawyer's office, walked in, and inquired:
" What do you keep to sell 1" "Block-!
hends," replied the lawyer. "Pretty good
business, 1 guess, I Bee you've got only
one left."
YVepledaed our hearts, my love and 1 —
1, in my arms, the maiden clasping ;
1 could not tell the reason why,
But, oh ! I trembled like an aspen.
Her father's love she bid me gain ;
I went, and shook like any reed !
1 strove to act the man—in vain !
We had exchanged our heart's indeed.
A Romance in Politics.
One of Texas' distinguished citizens,
name not given, who has figured largely in
public life, first as a lawyer, then as a sol
dier in the Mexican and Indian wars, and
then as a leading politician, has the follow
ing related of him in a sketch of his life by
the New Orleans Christain Advocate—He
had been put op by his parly in 1847 to
succeed Gen. Houston in the United States
Senate; but feeling called io the ministry,
and distrusting his own ability to resist the
temptations of Washington life, was unwil
ling to accept the nomination. He laid the
case before his wife, leaving to her the
choice between the United States Senate and
destruction to his morals, and the pulpit
and salvation :
" Taking the letters and papers from all
parts o r the State, giving him assurance of e
lection,he went to his wife and said: "I can
go to the United States Senate. Here are
the evidences. If you wish it, 1 will go.
But ifl go, hell is my doom. I shall die a
drunkard as certain as I go to Washington.
I can yet escape. If I pass this point, I
never can. I can enter the ministry, which
I ought to have done long ago and save my
self from a drunkard's grave, and my soul
from hell. But you shall decide. His poor
wife, unwilling to relinquish the glittering
prize in view, replied weeping, that she
could not see why he could not be a great
man and a Christian too. But after prayerful
reflection, she would not incur the fearful
responsibility of deciding against his con
science, and told him to go into the itinera
cy, and she would go with him. To the
astonishment of the whole State, a letter
Irom him appeared in the papers, just be
fore the meeting of the Legislature, decli
ning the office, and announcing his retire
ment from political life. The next thing
that was heard of him was that he was
preaching."
Effect of Sorrow.
Life has long years ; many pleasures it
has to give in return for many which are ta
ken away ; and while our ears can receive
the sounds of revelry, and our eyes are sen
sible of pleasant sights, and our bodies are
conscious of strength we deem we live;
but there is an hour in the lives of all when
the heart dies : an hour unheeded, but after
which we have no real life, whether it per
ish in the agony of some conquering pas
sion, or die wearily of sorrow; an hour
which they may strive to trace, who say,
"ay. I remember,l thought and fell different
ly then—l was a mere boy—l shall never
feel the same again;" an hour when the cord
is broken and the chain snapped on which
depended the liartnony of existence.
Shout, little children ! shout and clap your
hands with sudden joy ! send out the sound
of ringing laughter over the face of the
grepn-bosomed earth ! From you the an
gel nature hath not yet departed, in your
hearts linger still Ihe emanations'from the
Creator: perfect love and perfect joy.—
Shout, I say and rejoice ! for the dark days
are coming upon ye, when ye shall see no
light, and the hours of mirth will be strange
to you, and the time when your voices shall
grow so sad that they shall mingle with the
wailing of the winds, and not be distingush
able from them, because of the exceeding
sorrow of their tones !
" Please, marm, and what shall I do with
the bits of candles?"
" Take them down stairs and burn them
in the kitchen, Bridget."
Off she started. At night Bridget called
the Lady, and asked for a caudle for the
kitchen.
" A candle ! why, what have you done
with those pieces you had this morning ?"
" Faith, marm, I put them in the fire and
burned them in the kitchen, as you told me
this morning."
A school boy of about six years of age
approached the master with a bold look
and self confident air, and the following
dialogue ensued: —
" May 1 be dismissed, sir ?"
" What reason have you for making the
request, Thomas ?"
"I want to take my woman out sleighing
sir."
Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
who never to himself hath said, I will a
family paper take, both for my own and
children's sake 1 If such there be, let him
repent, and have the paper to him sent; and
it he'd pass a happy winter, lie in advance
should pay the printer.
The great bar to unliappiness is the bar
of the grog shop. He who frequents it will
very likely soon find himself before the bar
of justice. Let us all, then, place a bar
againsj,all evils arising from intemperance
—the rock on which many young men
have been shipwrecked.
" Why don't you hold your head up in
the world as Ido ?" asked a haughty law
yer of a sterling old farmer. " Squire,"
said the farmer, " see that field of grain;
the well-filled heads hang down while those
only that are empty stand upright."
Tears may soothe the wound they can
not heal.
[Two Dollars pot Annum.
NUMI3ISR 14-
Smells Something.
A short time since a gentleman and lady
were traveling in Michigan, and having
missed the stage, were compelled to take a
private conveyance from the town of Scud
eri to Thomastown The lady had with her
a beautiful little lap-dog, which she carried
on her lap on an embroidered mat. During
the ride the husband discovered that he had
no handkerchief, when the lady lent him
Iters, which was fashionably scented with
musk. About half way between the two
towns the carriage broke down, in the midst
of a hard rain, and they were obliged to
take refuge in the half way house—a "one
horse" log tavern, consisting of two roams—
a bar-room and a lodging room. The lady
laid her lap dog on its mat before the fire,
and herself and husband took seats. In a
short time the gentleman had an occasion
to use his handkerchief, and took it out,
leaving it lying on his knees when he got
through with it. In a few moments the
landlord opened the door, put his head in,
looked around, went out, came in gazed at
the dog; his nostrils all the while upturned
in intense disgust. He finally appeared sat
isfied, went to the out side door opened it,
came back with a bound,seized the lap-dog
by the tail, and hurled him howling through
the open door full ten rods into the forest.
The wife fainted; the husband rose to his
feet, terribly enraged, and wanted to know
what he did that for. "That's my dog,"
continued he furiously. "Don't care a cuss
whose dog it is," said the man gruffly and
irnpetiously, "I ain't going to have no such
blasted smelling varmint around my tavern."
The husbard and wife evacuated the house
instantly, and proceeded on their way in the
rain.
THE LAST Hoop STORV.—A Newcastle
v,English) paper states that at a fashionable
conversation recently held at the Musio
Hall in that city, a mischievous wag, short
ly after the opening of the entertainment,
put into circulation a story to the effect
that an experienced electrician had mana
ged to conceal a powerful magnet in each
of the six beautiful chandeliers by means
of uhich the hall is lighted, and that the
effect of this arrangement would be such
that any lady with steel spring skirts pass
ing them, would have the said skirts in
j stantly inverted by the powerful attraction,
j There was a great many ladies present, and
| the consternation created by this mischiev
■ ous story can more readily be imagined
j than expressed. There was of course, for
I a time, considerable shyness in approach
{ ing the chandeliers, and some of the fair
j ones became so alarmed they immediately
i scooted. The fellow ought to have been
| ducked in the Tyne.
j It is stated that a young lady on Boston
j Common, dressed in the extreme of fashion,
j was mistaken by some boys jpr a circus
; tent, and they actually crawled some dis
j tance under the " curtains" before they
j discovered their mistake. How they en
j joyed the "show" the report does not state
In a school district, a lady having engag
ed to teach school for a given time, a'tends
regularly at the school-house from 8 A. M.
; to 4 P. M. and keeps up a good fire, although
j she has not had a scholar for weeks. She
j seems determined to be on hand whether
j "school keeps or not."
| A GREENHORN took a notion to get mar*
! ried. After the ceremony was concluded,
| Jonathan taking a quarter of a dollar from
his pocket, deliberately walked up to the
parson and handed it to him, saying, "Par
son, keep the whole, you needn't give me
back any change."
TIT FOR TAT.—" Will you give me that
ring?" said a village dandy to a lady, "for
it resembles my love for you; it has no end."
"Ecnse me, sir," was the reply, "I choose
to keep it, as being emblematical of mine
for you; it has*no beginning."
Two centuries ago not one person in one
hundred wore stockings. Fifty years ago
not one boy in 1,000 was allowed to run
at large nights. Fifty years ago not one
girl in 1,000 made a waiting-woman of her
mother!
"•'Tie strange," uttered a young man. as
he staggered home from a supper party,
"how evil communications corrupt good
manners. I've been surrounded by tum
blers all the evening, and now I'm a tum
bler myself."
We have all heard of asking for bread
and receiving a slone, but a gentleman may
be considered as still worse treated when
he asks a young lady's hand and gets her
father's foot.
DEAN SWIFT, hearing of a carpenter fall
ing through the scaffolding of a house which
he was engaged in repairing, dryly remark
ed that he liked loseea mechanic go through
his work promptly.
THE worthiest people are the most assail
ed by slander; as we usually find that to be
the best fruit, which the birds have been
picking at.
The editor of an exchange says he never
saw but one ghost, and that was the ghost
of a sinner, who had died without paying
for his paper. "'Twas horrible to look
upon."
" I'm getting /at," as the loafer said
when he was stealing "lard."